The Old Man had not been napping. As Rog's attention wavered he leaped in close and pulled his cudgel around behind him for a vicious roundhouse swipe that would crush his adversary's head. Rog's only warning was his hissing breath. He squatted down quickly, just as the stone swept over him, so close it raised the hackles on his neck.
In the next moment Rog's chance came. Sarak lunged off balance and twisted desperately around to recover it. Rog took one deep breath ... and then he leaped.
His club hissed through the air as he put all his force into a final effort. There was a solid crunching sound as the sharp rock connected with Sarak's skull. The Old Man went down without a sound, and he was Old Man no longer....
In the moment's hush that fell over the group, Rog went swiftly back to Lo and Johann Adam. He stood between them and raised both arms for attention.
"Is there any other who wishes to be ruler?" he shouted.
There was not a sound. Luk-no crouched where he had fallen.
A glad tide rushed up in Rog's breast. He had won! He was the Old Man now, himself, free to do as he wished, and with the power to make the tribe do what he knew was best for them. He spoke once more.
"Then, know this—I am your ruler and you are my people. But this old man beside me is far wiser than any of us. You will follow my wishes—I will follow his. You do not know what this means now, but you will later."
A few feet away the hapless Luk-no still crouched and awaited the death blow that was his due. Then Rog performed the first act of mercy mankind had known in many hundreds of years.
Sharply he said to him, "Get up. I will not kill you because I do not deign to dirty my club with your blood. But if ever you interfere with me or my mate or the old one, it will go hard with you."