From his sitting position he looked up at the others.
"Neela—?" he began.
"—has fled," finished one of the hunters. "He heard you quarreling with Sleeza. We cannot catch him, now."
The third man grinned. "Next time, Barkoo, let Sleeza bite you. While you may die, at least our food will not run away!"
Ignoring the grim attempt at humor, Barkoo scrambled to his feet and watched, in helpless rage, the bobbing heads and flying legs of Neela and his flock, now far away.
Barkoo swore mightily. "And it's too late to hunt further," he growled. "As it is, darkness will come before we reach the caves of Tharn. To return empty-handed besides—" One of his companions suddenly caught Barkoo by the arm. "Look!" he cried, pointing toward the west.
A young man, clad only in an animal skin about his middle, had leaped from a clump of grasses less than twenty yards from the fleeing herd. In one hand was a long war-spear held aloft as he swooped toward them.
Instantly the herd turned aside and with a fresh burst of speed sought to out-run this new danger.
"Look at him run!" Barkoo shouted.