There was a low sound which was more a throb in the clear air about
them, getting into a man's blood and pumping in rhythm there. Dane
tracked the sound to its source: four large drums standing waist high
before the men who tapped them delicately with the tips of all ten
fingers.
The necklaces of claws and teeth about those dusky throats, the kilts of
fringed hide, the crossed belts of brilliantly spotted or striped fur
were in contrast to the very efficient and modern side arms each man
wore, to the rest of the equipment sheathed and strapped at their belts.
There was a carved stool for the Chief Ranger, another for Captain
Jellico. Dane and Tau settled themselves on the less comfortable seats
of the terrace steps. Those tapping fingers increased their rate of
beat, and the notes of the drums rose from the low murmur of hived bees
to the mutter of mountain thunder still half a range away. A bird called
from those inner courts of the palace from which the women never
ventured.
Da--da--da--da.... Voices took up the thud-thud of the drums, the heads
of the squatting men moved in a slow swing from side to side.
Pages:
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37