Recognizing how much was at stake, he planned his campaign with the most careful forethought. When at length the chosen day arrived, he led his ten followers down the cliff in the early dawn, when the first tinge of gray was barely beginning to touch the cliffs. All had been carefully trained in the use of the "wonder stick"; and each man carried one of the weapons and eight or ten flint-tipped arrows. Confidently they stole from the cave, while the other men stood by in a glowering silence and the women poured forth encouragement, advice, and tears; stealthily and without a sound, each a shadow against the dark rocks, they made their precarious way along the ledges and to the base of the precipice.
Having reached the floor of the cañon, they crept forward a few dozen yards with Ru at their head; then, following orders which had been drilled into their heads beforehand, each concealed himself behind a boulder. And, until the daylight shone full upon them, not a sound nor a motion came from any of that watching band.
The beast-men meanwhile were unaware of their presence. The invaders could see the hideous black forms swarming about the brink of the river, could see them dipping into the water with hoarse gibbering and hissing laughter; they could watch some sucking in long thirsty draughts, some chewing greedily at great bones, some casting logs into the blazing fire, and some snarling and quarreling like embattled dogs.
Suddenly, leaping up from behind his rock with waving arms, Ru let forth a shrill and blood-curdling scream, the battle-cry of his tribe—"Oo-ow, oo-ow, oo-ow!" And at the same time his followers darted into the open, brandishing their bows high in air and joining in Ru's ferocious howl. And the watchers on the cliff above took up the call, so that it seemed like the roaring of a multitude.
The beast-men, startled, ceased their screeching and jabbering, and stared as if thunderstruck at their unexpected foes. For a moment they seemed unable to utter a sound; then confused low cries of surprise and fear broke from their lips.
Headed by Ru, the assailants were meanwhile striding forward. And the hairy, growling throng, unorganized and terror-smitten, appeared uncertain whether to charge and overwhelm the intruders or dash for safety to the woods.
But when Ru and his followers were within a hundred yards of the nearest beast-man, a tall befeathered individual stalked forth from the crowd, beating his chest and growling pugnaciously. In his enormous right hand was a club nearly as tall as himself; above his thick eyebrow ridge was a ghastly painted streak of red; his teeth, chiseled to a point and stained black, gaped like the fangs of some gruesome monster. At his side, encouraged by his boldness, shambled a dozen of his fellows, their forms gigantic and stooping, their evil little eyes staring out from thickets of black hair. All snarled and angrily swung their clubs, while behind them their people pressed, gibbering at a distance, as if expecting Ru's tiny band to turn and flee.
But they did not turn and flee. Some, indeed, did tremble and draw back a pace; but there came the reassuring, commanding voice of Ru: "Now, now is the time!" And instead of taking flight, they hastily adjusted the arrows to their bows.
Still the feathered one stalked onward, side by side with his mighty companions. The space between them and Ru had been cut in half; in another instant the invaders would feel the touch of their clubs.
"Now, now is the time!" repeated Ru. And the bows were drawn back by powerful hands, then furiously recoiled. There came a sudden whizzing sound—and an amazing thing befell.