And—it came to him in a sudden flash—it was the weapon he was seeking!
Scooping up the sand, he stuffed it between the girdle and his belly in sifting handfuls, till he could pack in no more.
And as he did so, his weariness fell away a little. A tiny spark of his old fire came alive again. A thread of the strength he'd thought was gone flowed slowly through him.
He found that he could even stand straight without staggering.
Bleakly, he laughed.
Then, breathing deep, throwing back his head, he howled the wild, harsh howl the charging primitives had uttered—pushed it out with all the volume he could muster.
He could see the guards jerk, in the light-ring round the ship. A ray-gun blazed.
Jarl crouched behind a pile of debris. After a moment, when the guards' first excitement had subsided, he moved in closer; howled again.
This time, the crewmen showed less tension. Grim, purposeful, they crouched by their weapons, watching and waiting.