At the hillock the white llama was struggling to its feet. A band of crimson ran across one silvery flank, the mark of Starrett's bullet. The llama limped down the mound.
As it passed Soames it nosed him. The New Englander's head lifted. He tried to arise, and fell
back. The llama nosed him again. Soames squirmed up on hands and knees; eyes fixed upon
the golden panniers, he began to crawl after the beast.
The white llama walked slowly, stiffly. It came to Starrett's body and touched him as it had
Soames. And Starrett's massive head lifted and he tried to rise, and failing even as had
Soames, began like him to crawl behind the animal. The white llama paused beside Dan. He stirred, and lurched, and followed it on knees and hands.
Over the moon-soaked sands, back to the camp they trailed—the limping beast with the blood
dripping from its wounded side. Behind it the three crawling men, their eyes fixed upon the
golden-withed panniers, their mouths gasping, like fish being drawn up to shore.
The llama reached the camp fire and passed on. The crawling men reached the fire and were
passing in the llama's wake. The figure in motley lowered his rod.
The three men ceased their crawling. They collapsed beside the embers as though all life had
abruptly been withdrawn.
The strange paralysis lifted from Graydon as swiftly as it had come upon him; his muscles
relaxed, and power of movement returned. Sierra ran by him to the llama's side, caressed it,
strove to stanch its blood.
He bent over the three. They were breathing stertorous, eyes half closed and turned upward
so that only the whites were visible. Their shirts had been ripped to ribbons. And on their
faces, their breasts and their backs were dozens of small punctures, the edges clean cut as
though by sharp steel punches. Some were bleeding, but on most of them the blood had
already dried.
He studied them, puzzled. The wounds were bad enough, of course, yet it did not seem to him
that they accounted for the condition of the three. Certainly, they had not lost enough blood to
cause unconsciousness; no arteries had been touched, nor any of the large veins.
He took a bucket and drew water from the brook. Returning, he saw that Sierra had gotten
the llama upon its feet again, and over to her tent. He stopped, loosed the golden panniers,
and probed the wound. The bullet had plowed almost through the upper left flank, but
without touching the bone. He extracted the lead and bathed and dressed the injury with strips
of silken stuff the girl handed him. He did it all silently, nor did she speak.
He drew more water from the brook, and went back to his own camp. He saw that the hooded
figure had joined the girl. He felt its hidden eyes upon him as he passed. He spread blankets,
and pulled Soames, Dan and Starrett up on them. They had passed out of the stupor, and
seemed to be sleeping naturally. He washed the blood from their faces and bodies, and
dabbed iodine into the deepest of the peck-like punctures. They showed no sign of awakening
under his handling.
Graydon covered them with blankets, walked away from the fire, and threw himself down on
the white sands. Foreboding rested heavily on him, a sense of doom. And as he sat there,
fighting against the depression sapping his courage, he heard light footsteps, and Sierra sank
beside him. His hand dropped upon hers, covering it. She leaned toward him, her shoulder
touched him, her cloudy hair caressed his cheek