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He wormed his way to his familiar cover. Excitment coursed through him as he
looked into the clearing` the lick. A spearfang had just slain a plump doe aq
_ dragging the carcass back into the bushes to feedf A
without conscious volition, his rifle sprang to his tk and spoke. ;
The spearfang yowled with anguish as it staggering from its kill.
Kenton reloaded, hurried after it. He he9 gun at the ready, although he did
not think he wouldj _ it for such desperate work as before. The big cat's
unco . gait reflected a wound that would soon be fatal.
So it proved. Less than a furlong from the fallen de scout found the
spearfang dead, its mouth gaping in defiant snarl. Insects were already
lighting on the cai They buzzed away as Kenton stooped beside it.
He set down his rifle, used his knife and a stone out the beast's fangs.
They were a fine pair, notM shorter than the gap between his thumb and little
when he splayed them wide. He bound the two longc _
with a rawhide thong, slipped them into his pouch rest.
s He caught a slight motion out of the corner d- Still on his knees, he
turned. "See, I'll be rich yet,-C;q The words caught in his throat. The sim
behii was naked, and shorter and stockier than his compal!i hefted a stone in
its right hand.
The tableau held for several seconds. The sirn tit Kenton as if unsure it
believed its eyes. The sos . himself for putting his musket to one side.
The si hurl its rock before he grabbed the gun.
AndSeven,* twenty feet, he might miss with a pistol. .
All the same, his right hand was easing towa4] when three more sims, all adult
males, slid sile -_ _ _ .
tnd his teeth--no chance now to get rid Xe-could frighten them off. He drew a
pistol. auld have sent wild Virginia sims running;
iDa
arm to cast its L4l into the air. At the report and the u; the sims shouted
in fright. The scout I flee, but the one that had its rock ready ad that
rallied the others. They rushed at
}Fl thetmissile, snatched out his other gun, and liblank range. As happens
too mournfully
_ Ft of action outside romances, he missed. He wlol down club-fashion on a
sims head. The Zgned but still surged forward to grapple P had thicker skulls
than humans.
tite scout was just as glad not to remember ilSiht with the sims. What he
could recall hurt.
t consciousness, but after a while he could iche either. The sims were not
sophisti W deliberate cruelty, but when four of them him into submission the
result came close *t but the most exacting critic.
iiS back to himself, one sim was carrying vand another with its hands dug into
his
. iwd why the sims had not killed him on lug his head, he saw that the four
he had
* pare of a larger band. There mwt have Xber, mose of them bearing big joints
lwdeer the spearfang had killed and from the v her food, he thought, they
could afford * duiosity about him.
Humans were as Ws-aa the leverse; indeed, sims had kidvgrandmother when she
was a baby, $ . aj i which proved interesting enough to distract a good part
of the troop from his person.
The fine black grains of gunpowder made the sims sneeze; some tasted the
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stuff, and made faces at the result. The scout hoped they would toss the
powderhorn onto the fire. The blast might scare them away long enough for him
to get free. Of course, afoer a pound of gunpowder went off close by, he
might not be in any condition to try.
Given his present predicament, though, he was willing to take the risk.
The sims poured the powder out onto the ground, scotching that chance.
His tin water jar enthralled them a good deal more. Like his belt, it was an
idea they had not thought of. One rushed over to a tiny creek a few hundred
yards away, filled the jar, and brought it back.
The sim that had bound the stone to the vine belt suddenly snatched up the
powderhorn. It hurried to the streamlet and filled the powderhorn with water.
Adapting a tool from one use to another showed quicker wit than most sims
could boast.
They came to his shot-pouch next. The bullets cascaded out. As soon as the
sims discovered they were not some queer kind of fruit, their youngsters
pounced on the musket balls, which made toys unlike the sticks, leaves, and
stones they had known before.
The older sims went on exploring the scout's gear. He ground his teeth as
they opened the leather bag that held the canines of the spearfangs he had
killed. The sims recognized the fangs at once.
Surprised hoots arose. The sims stared wide-eyed at Kenton, unable to imagine
how he had slain so many of the big cats.
Last of all, the sims pulled his knife from its sheath. The only sharp edges
they knew were the ones they laboriously chipped and flaked onto stone. They
did not recognize the gleaming steel blade as something familiar until one of
them closed her hand round it. She shrieked at the unexpected pain, gaped to
see blood streaming down her fingers.
One of the males seized the knife then, by the hilt--more through luck than
design. The sim brandished the weapon wildly, then suddenly stopped,
realizing what it was for. Again Kenton fought panic; men likely would have
tested the blade on his flesh.
But sims had minds more strictly utilitarian. The male squatted in front of
one of the joints of meat the hunting party had brought back.
It screeched in pleasure at the ease with which the knife slid through the
flesh. Another sim stuck the carved-off gobbet on a stick and held it over
the fire.
The first smell of roasting meat made most of the sims forget about
Kenton. They armed themselves with sticks and dashed over to the butcher,
who, grinning, was cutting chunk afKr chunk from the doe's hindquarters. The
males jostled round the fire; such a feast did not often come their way.
Females and youngsters beseechingly held out their hands. With so much food,
the males were generous in sharing.
The wind had shifted till it came out of the west, filling the sky with clouds
and blowing smoke from the fire straight into Kenton's face. It made him
cough and his eyes water. Mixed with it, though, was enough of the aroma of
cookery to drive him nearly wild. He could hear his stomach growling above
the racket the sims were making.
He loudly smacked his lips, a signal sims gave one another when they were
hungry. The sims who heard him sent him the same curious look they had when
he imitated their greeting-call. But they did not feed him.
Taking a captive was so unusual for them that they had no idea how to treat
one. Any being outside their troop was not one of them, and so was entitled
to nothing.
Things might have been worse, Kenton decided. Insttul of begging {or food, he
could have been food. That the sims showed no signs of moving in that
direction was mildly il heartening, enough at any rate to help him resist
his hunger pangs.
He wondered what Charles was doing. By now the sim should long since
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have returned to their cmp, and it was - late enough for him to be wondering
what had happened to Kenton.
He might, the scout decided, be clever enough to visit the salt lick, Kenton
went there most often. The scout could not guess what Charles would do after
that. He was used to the company of humans--maybe he would try to go back to
Virginia. Kenton wondered if the men at
Portsmouth would believe his explanations, or kill him for doing away with his
master. He hoped they would believe him; Charles deserved a betoer fate than
disbelief would get him.
The sim might have a better chance here west of the mountains. He was an able
hunter; he would have no trouble feeding himself.
Eventually he should be able to find a home among the wild sims here,
suspicious though they were of all strangers.
Charles would be able to show them so much that he could prove himself too
valuable to exclude. Apart from the knife and hatchet he carried, he had
learned a great deal in Virginia that wild sims were ignorant of.
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