In desperation, the native threw one arm over the wall. He glanced down fearfully. Then cautiously he drew himself up. In the pale star shine he could see that the sentry was not facing him. He dropped to the inside walk. The sentry half-turned.
Reluctantly, the native leaped the few intervening feet and hit him. There was a brittle snap and the native lowered the sentry gently to the walk. Then he turned, relooped the rope, pulled it more securely around the trunk. Up came the four who had been waiting below.
In a whispery hiss, he explained what had happened. The leader of the group shook his head in the darkness. "If we go inside, now," he said, "the other will discover this one and then warn the demon before we can destroy it. We must silence the other one too."
They nodded.
One of the group bent and removed the fallen sentry's weapon. He turned it over and over in his hands, curiously.
"Hey! Hey!" the other sentry called, suddenly, from out of the darkness along the wall. "Hey, Ed!" Receiving no answer, he fumbled his weapon into his hand. "Hey! Ed! Answer me!"
"Too late," the leader of the natives hissed. "He will wake the demon. Run!"
They vaulted the wall, striking the ground and scattered toward the tall grasses and the forest beyond. One dragged a broken leg painfully.
The body of Ed, the limp sentry, teetered for a moment on the walk and then slipped awkwardly over the side. It struck a wall buttress and bent over it like a horseshoe.