He turned and went back to his chair, causing it to swivel around and face the view crystal.
There was that matter of Tibara, as far as that went. Possibly it would be well to count that herd and identify the animals positively.
Maybe the pasturage was getting poor and he would have to instruct the new headman to move to better lands. Those strays had looked rather thin, now that he thought of it.
Maybe some of the other long-necks had strayed from the main herd and he would have to have the headman send out guards to pick them up and bring them in.
He concentrated on the viewer, swinging its scan over to the swamp where he had driven that small herd.
They were still there, wallowing in the shallow water and grazing on the lush vegetation. He smiled. It would be several days before their feeble minds threw off the impression he had forced on them that this was their proper feeding place.
Idly, he examined the beasts, then he leaned forward, studying them more critically. They weren’t the heavy, fat producers of meat normal to the Tibara herd. Something was wrong.
These were the same general breed as the Tibara long-necks, to be sure, but either their pasturage had been unbelievably bad or they had been recently run—long and hard. They looked almost like draft beasts.
[p 25]
He frowned. If these were from the Tibara herd, he’d been missing something for quite a while.
Thoughtfully, he caused