CHAPTER XI
From Jungle Depths
Urb, the Neanderthal, was beginning to tire. He and his five hairy companions had been on the march since Dyta had risen, and even now the sun was hunting a new lair for the night. From the frequency with which those behind him were stumbling, he judged they, too, were tiring.
But the mountains were close, now. He and his men were almost certain to reach them before darkness came. There they might find caves near grasslands rich in game. Urb's mouth watered and he was aware of being very hungry.
A faint breeze, blowing lightly against their backs, changed its course suddenly and came whipping in from the west. As it flicked across their faces the six Hairy Ones came to an abrupt halt, standing stiffly as though turned to stone.
Urb sniffed in short rapid inhalations, his unkempt visage twisted in a ferocious scowl.
"Men!" he grunted. "The hairless ones! It has been long since we have found such. Hide!"
With a degree of soundlessness surprising in such clumsy bodies, the six Neanderthals faded into the mazes of undergrowth at either side of the path.