Then he
laid it on the ground and stood astride its gleaming length.
"Lumbrilo!" His confident voice arose above the call of the drum.
"Lumbrilo--I am waiting."
VIII
Vaguely aware that the clamor at the other end of the camp had died
away, Dane muted the sound of his drum. Over its round top he could
watch the Khatkan outlaws; their heads bobbed and swayed in time to the
beat of his fingers. He, too, could feel the pull of Tau's voice. But
what would come in answer? That shadowy thing which had been loosed to
drive them here? Or the man himself?
To Dane, the ruddy light of the fire dimmed, yet there was no actual
dying of those flames which coiled and thrust around the wood. And the
acrid scent of burning was thick. How much of what followed was real,
how much the product of his tense nerves, Dane was never afterwards able
to tell. In fact, whether all the witnesses there saw the same sights
could be questioned. Did each man, Khatkan and off-worlder, see only
what his particular set of emotions and memories dictated?
Something swept in from the east, something which was not as tangible as
the creature born of swamp mist.
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