His lips were stiff with bitter rage, however, as he faced the other man, who had not moved.
“Get up on your hind legs, you yellow coyote!” he commanded.
For an instant it seemed that the other man was to share the fate of the first. The man seemed to think so, too, for he got up trembling, his hands outstretched along the rock, the fingers outspread and twitching from the paralysis of fear that had seized him.
“Shoot your gab off quick!” commanded the rider. “Who are you?”
“I’m Laskar,” the man muttered.
“Where you from?”
“Lamo.”
The rider’s eyes quickened. “Where did you meet up with that scum?” He indicated Dolver.
“Lamo?”