The soldiers, both those from Vairkingi and those from Sur, scrambled up the golden cascade and started hacking the crystals out of the solid formation, in search for perfect cubes, while their two leaders watched them with amusement from below.
All at once there came a shriek, and one of the Vairkings toppled the whole length of the pile, almost at Cabot’s feet, where he lay perfectly still, the wooden shaft of an arrow projecting from one eyeball.
“Roies!” Crota shouted.
Instantly every member of the party took cover with military precision behind some rock or tree.
They had not long to wait, for a shower of missiles from up the valley soon apprised them of the location of the enemy. So the Vairkings thereafter remained alert. Those who had bows drew them and discharged a flint-tipped arrow at every stir of grass or bush in the locality whence the missiles of the enemy had come.
“We know not their number,” Crota whispered to Cabot. “And since we have accomplished our mission let us return to Sur as speedily as possible.”
“Agreed,” the earth-man replied.
The withdrawal was accomplished as follows. Crota first dispatched runners to the village to inform the inhabitants of the situation. Then, leaving a small rear guard of archers and slingers to cover their retreat, he formed the remainder of the expedition in open order, and set out for Sur as rapidly as the cover would permit.
The enemy kept pretty well hidden, but it was evident from the increase of arrows and pebbles that their numbers were steadily augmenting. Noting this, Crota sent another runner ahead with this information.
It now became necessary to replenish and relieve the rear guard, of which several were dead, several more wounded and the rest tired and out of ammunition. This done, Crota ordered the main body of his force to leave cover and take up the double quick.