After a short rest period, Vulcar called them together and gave the word that began the last stage of the journey.
While only a short distance ahead, Urb and his four companions plodded slowly on toward their distant homes.
Darkness was not far in the offing, and Urb was inwardly debating on ordering the men to the trees for the night, when Tolb, at the rear of the column, voiced a low note that arrested the others in mid-stride. Turning as one, the five stood motionless, their ears, keen as those of Sadu, himself, cocked to catch and interpret what Tolb had heard.
Urb, wise old campaigner, was first to identify the sounds. "Men!" he grunted. "The hairless ones! Hide."
Silently each Neanderthal man stepped behind a trunk of one of the trees lining the path. Mighty clubs swung ready in steel fingers; narrowed eyes beneath overhanging brows scanned the open ground of the trail. The minutes lengthened....
And then five white-tuniced figures appeared at the far end of the path and came on at a half-trot. Slung across their shoulders were short bows; at their backs hung arrow-filled containers, and in their right hands dangled clubs, smaller than those used by the Neanderthals but still formidable weapons.
Not until the group had drawn abreast the ambushers did Urb give the signal. Then his fingers closed on a dry branch, and five immense bludgeons hurtled toward the startled Sepharians.
It requires far more skill to hit a moving target than a stationary one. Then, too, the half-light near the end of day does not add to the chances of a successful cast.
Three of the clubs missed their marks altogether, one struck a shoulder glancingly, while the fifth crashed into the base of a neck, snapping the spine and killing the stricken man instantly.