With his long arms swinging low, and his face raised to meet whatever fate might lie before him, he walked straight toward the neck of the pathway. A sudden flare from the fire-pit showed him the way at the foot of the rock bulge, showed him that it was choked with dogs, their gnashing snouts and glaring eyes thrust at him from around the turn of the wall—and showed him, towering above, clearly outlined for an instant, the form of their master with raised spear.
The time to fight had come.
Others besides Garlanes saw Polaris in the flare of the fire. As the son of the snows quitted his place and leaped down to the ledge among the dogs, several spears splintered against the rock wall where he had stood.
Wondering much how Kalin and the Rose were faring, and if he might hold off their pursuers until the sledge was through the wall safely, he slipped along to the narrowest point of the path and ordered back the dogs. Again a flare of fire from the depths showed his position to the enemy, and an ilium-bladed spear was his greeting, hissing past his cheek to go clattering down the declivity of the precipice.
Urged by Garlanes, the Sardanians had crept dangerously near. Polaris held his hand no longer. He steadied himself and hurled a spear. The man next behind Garlanes fell to the floor of the ledge and lay twitching horribly in silence. The glittering point of the spear was set fast in his throat. Once more the light gave him opportunity, and another stout Sardanian gave up the ghost before his unerring cast.
Then Garlanes waited no longer for the coming of Minos, but gathered his men and charged.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE HUMBLING OF MINOS
It was no part of Polaris's program to take part in a hand-to-hand fight with the pursuers. There were seven of them remaining, and with nothing but his own safety at stake, he might have been confident of the issue; but he did not dare, under the circumstances, to take the risk of the encounter.