And yet, the spaces seemed filled with watchers. He felt their gaze upon him. He knew that some
hidden host girdled the camp. He scanned every bush and shadow—and saw nothing. The certainty of a hidden, unseen multitude persisted. A wave of nervous irritation passed through him. He would force them, whatever they were, to show themselves. He stepped out boldly into the full moonlight.
On the instant the silence intensified. It seemed to draw taut, to lift itself up whole octaves of stillness. It became alert, expectant—as though poised to spring upon him should he take one step further.
A coldness wrapped him, and he shuddered. He drew swiftly back to the shadow of the trees; stood there, his heart beating furiously. The silence lost its poignancy, drooped back upon its
haunches—watchful.
What had frightened him? What was there in that tightening of the stillness that had touchedhim with the finger of nightmare terror? He groped back, foot by foot, afraid to turn his face
from the silence. Behind him the fire flared. His fear dropped from him.
His reaction from his panic was a heady recklessness. He threw a log upon the fire and
laughed as the sparks shot up among the leaves. Soames, coming out of the tent for more
water, stopped as he heard that laughter and scowled at him malevolently.
"Laugh," he said. "Laugh while you can. Maybe you'll laugh on the other side of your mouth
when we get Starrett up and he tells us what he knows."
"That was a sound sleep I gave him, anyway," jeered Graydon.
"There are sounder sleeps. Don't forget it," Dancret's voice, cold and menacing came from
the tent.
Graydon turned his back to the tent, and deliberately faced that silence from which he had
just fled. He seated himself, and after awhile he dozed.
He awakened with a jump. Halfway between him and the tent Starrett was charging on him
like a madman, bellowing.
Graydon leaped to his feet, but before he could defend himself the giant was upon him. The
next moment he was down, overborne by sheer weight. The big adventurer crunched a knee
into his arm and gripped his throat.
"Let her go, did you!" he roared. "Knocked me out and then let her go! Here's where you go,
too, damn you!"
Graydon tried to break the grip on his throat. His lungs labored; there was a deafening roaring
in his ears, and flecks of crimson began to dance across his vision. Starrett was strangling
him. Through fast dimming sight he saw two black shadows leap through the firelight and
clutch the strangling hands.
The fingers relaxed. Graydon staggered up. A dozen paces away stood Starrett. Dancret, arms
around his knees, was hanging to him like a little terrier. Beside him was Soames, the barrel
of his automatic pressed against his stomach.
"Why don't you let me kill him!" raved Starrett. "Didn't I tell you the girl had enough green
ice on her to set us up the rest of our lives? There's more where it came from! And he let her
go! Let her go, the—"
Again his curses flowed.