"Just natives," Blayne said. He handed back the glasses and Elliot looked at the little knots of mauve-skinned natives here and there on the island.
"Don't they have any guards?"
Elliot shook his head. "No. They stick to their belief that the Dragonbird will protect them from any invaders."
"Good," Blayne said. "So much the simpler for us. When do we get moving?"
Elliot glanced at the man at his side, saw the desire on Blayne's face, the greed of the hunter. "Don't be impatient," he said. "It's almost noon now. Keep your glasses trained on the temple. Unless they've changed the program, the Dragonbird will make an appearance at noon."
The minutes ticked past slowly. Blayne kept glancing at his watch and looking eagerly out across the water toward the island.
At the instant the second-hand of the watch brushed past the "12," there was a sudden boom, as of a huge kettledrum, and the sound reverberated hollowly out over the river. A group of natives, carrying a dark-hued animal the size of a small sheep, marched in orderly procession toward the temple. They laid the animal on an altar before the door.
Another muffled boom followed.
"Here it comes," Elliot murmured.
The natives stepped back reverently, and the doors of the temple slowly swung outward.