He finally banked the fire with turf and started out on foot for the junction of the brook and the creek. Walking made it seem quite a distance, and The Star was still lower, painting the eastern mountains gold and red, before he came in sight of the camp.
"Ho! It's still there!" he exclaimed in relief.
Someone had seen him, for when he had gone a little way further, a figure showed against the dark tents, walking toward Yorgh. He wondered where all the carts were.
He was still a quarter of a mile from camp when the lone figure met him. It was Kwint, and he had changed somewhat in the four hours or so since they had parted. He wore a discolored swelling beneath his left eye, over which he peered at Yorgh.
"You can't come back!" he said glumly.
"What?"
"Tefior sent me out to say they don't think your latest joke was funny. They won't let you come back."
"Joke? What do you talk of, man?" demanded Yorgh.
"I suppose you meant just a little scare with that stampede, but it passed right below camp—where the wollies were kept!"
Yorgh realized then why Kwint had walked out to meet him. The tribe's animals must have run their best as soon as the picket line went down, and it would take time to catch them.