We fought in the open. The rubbery footing was deadly, but it played no favorites. I struck a heavy blow that made the green-and-black lined arms shudder. Gravgak's eyes flashed as he plunged back at me. I struck him again, with the full force of my body. He bounced and tumbled. He rolled out of sight. But not for long. It was an intentional trick. He disappeared in the crevice where Leeger had fallen. When he came up, the bloody knife was in his hand. I heard Vauna's warning cry.
I leaped down into the crevice. She was trying to get my coat. She knew there were explosives in it, if she could only get them into my hands.
No time for that. Gravgak leaped down at me. The knife was rigid from his hand, coming down with a plunge. I kicked back, floundering against the tricky walls of the scales, and Gravgak fell down deep where I had been. I saw it happen. A sight I never expect to see repeated.
His descent to the base of the scales, where the walls joined, might have been a harmless fall. Yet who knows how sensitive is the material of the vast living thing called Kao-Wagwattl? The knife plunged into deep Kao flesh beneath our feet. The flesh opened. Gravgak whirled, tried to escape the opening. His arm twisted under him. And went down. As if something drew it. His back—his whole body, from hips to shoulders—was caught in the gaping hole that he had seemingly opened with a plunge of the knife blade. It closed on him. It severed him. Part of him was gone. Before our eyes there remained his legs, cut clean away. And his head, and part of one shoulder.
The rest of him? It would not return to sight. Kao-Wagwattl was a living thing. When it wished it could devour.
Many of the tribe came back to this spot to examine what remained of the traitorous guard. I too observed him closely. I examined his eyes with a glass. Also the eyes of the murdered Leeger. Neither showed any traces of eyelashes or eyebrows.
12.
The tribe rode on tranquilly. There would be new legends of Kao-Wagwattl, after what had occurred. Many were the stories, and I relayed them to Campbell, at the ship, who faithfully recorded them all.
There was a tragedy to be added. It could not have been otherwise. For some months the news of Omosla and her little daughter had been vague. It was the Benzendella tradition that weddings should not be delayed for long after the arrival of the first-born child. It was rumored that this young mother now faced the shame of having been left without a mate. It was hard to get exact information. Even though Vauna and I had always sought an understanding between us, some things were not talked about freely. Deepest, most important truths in new worlds are often the most elusive. Now I questioned Vauna closely, and I learned of the tragic end of Omosla.