There was a little brook singing in the pass, and from it they refilled their canteens, then watered the animals. This time Sierra did not join them.
By mid-afternoon they were nearing the northern end of the bowl. All through the day the circular mountain across the plain had unrolled its vast arc of cliff. A wind had arisen, sweeping from the distant forest and bending the tall heads of the grass far below them.
Suddenly, deep within the wind, Graydon heard a faint, far-off clamor, a shrill hissing, as of some onrushing army of serpents. The girl halted, face turned toward the sound. It came again—and louder. Her face whitened, but when she spoke her voice was steady. "There is danger," she said. "Deadly danger for you. It may pass and—it may not. Until we know what to expect you must hide. Take your animals and tether them in the underbrush there—" she pointed to the mountainside which here was broken enough for cover—"the four of you take trees and hide behind them. Tie the mouths of your animals so that they can make no noise. " "So!" snarled Soames. "So here's the trap, is it! All right, sister, you know what I told you. We'll go into the trees, but—you go with us where we can keep our hands on you." "I will go with you," she answered, gravely. Soames glared at her, then turned abruptly. "Dan," he ordered, "Starrett—get the burros in. And Graydon—you'll stay with the burros and see they make no noise. We'll be right close—with the guns. And we'll have the girl— don't forget that." Again the hissing shrilled down the wind. "Be quick," the girl commanded.
When the trees and underbrush had closed in upon them it flashed on Graydon, crouching behind the burros, that he had not seen the cloaked faults of Sierra join the retreat and seek the shelter of the woods. He parted the bushes, and peered cautiously through them. There was no one upon the path. A sudden gust of wind tore at the trees. It brought with it a burst of the hissing, closer and more strident, and in it an undertone that thrilled him with unfamiliar terror.
A thing of vivid scarlet streaked out from the trees which here were not more than a half a mile away. It scuttled over the plain until it reached the base of one of the monoliths. It swarmed up its side to the top. There it paused, apparently scanning the forest from which it had come. He caught the impression of some immense insect, but touched with a monstrous, an incredible suggestion of humanness.
The scarlet thing slipped down the monolith, and raced through the grasses toward him. Out of the forest burst what at first glance he took for a pack of huge hunting dogs—then realized that whatever they might be, dogs they certainly were not. They came forward leaping like kangaroos, and as they leaped they glittered green and blue in the sunlight, as though armored in mail of emeralds and sapphires. Nor did ever dogs give tongue as they did. From them came the hellish hissing. The scarlet thing darted to right, to left, frantically; then crouched at the base of another monolith, motionless.
From the trees emerged another monstrous shape. Like the questing creatures, it glittered— but as though its body were cased in polished jet. Its bulk was that of a giant draft-horse. Its neck was long and reptilian. At the base of its neck, astride it, was a man.