The arms tightened like steel cables. There were more grunts, triumphant shouts, the crashing of underbrush.
Across the river the caveman had come to a halt. Then suddenly he saw them turn and flee, scampering up the cliffs like terrified monkeys, tearing at each other in their efforts to get away from the thing that had him in its grip.
Jupiter Jones was a powerful man—doubly so on this planet of mild gravity. Furthermore he'd been in too many tight scrapes to be overly bothered with scruples.
Recovering from his first shock, he twisted the carbine over his shoulder until he felt the muzzle prod into flesh and pulled the trigger.
The flat vicious "craack!" of the rifle slapped back from the cliffs. The arms relaxed. He wrenched himself free, spun around.
One glance told him these were the lean red-haired savages he'd seen last night. He was already pulling the trigger as he recognized them. The shot knocked the nearest brute off his feet.
The others hesitated, ringing him in like a pack of wolves. Down the trail, the two green tinted porters stood nervously, the litter perched atop their shoulders.
The glittering purple-shelled octopod was sitting bolt upright in the litter. At this distance it looked like a huge snail—an obese snail that has grown out of its shell. Perched on one of its tentacles was a kite-like thing.
Jupiter jerked the gun around. But at that moment the purple-shelled monstrosity tossed the kite-thing into the air where it spread enormous membrane wings.
With a shock, he realized that the kite was alive—a huge, flying, web-like bird!