How long he had been observed, in his preoccupation, he had no way of knowing. When he glanced up at an overhanging rock-ledge above the pool, DuChane was regarding him with sardonic amusement.
"I figured you were up to something," the man called down. "So this was the inspiration for the shave."
Marlin licked his lips, stifling a wave of apprehension.
"She's mine," he said.
DuChane circled the ledge until he found a place to descend. Making his way down slowly, he strode toward the girl—would have touched her but for a warning gesture from Marlin.
He turned abruptly.
"We may as well get this settled." His voice was harsh—his eyes had grown hard. "One of us gets her—the other doesn't."
"She's mine," Marlin repeated doggedly. "I found her—opened the channel to the tide—brought her to life."
"You want her," returned DuChane, "because she's a woman. I want her because—she's the one. I'd come to feel that way about her back in the space ark."
Filled with a blind rage, Marlin plunged toward him. DuChane carried a spear, and he raised it in defense, but in the fury of his onslaught Marlin brushed it aside and heard it clatter on the rock.