The Stones of Nomuru

Salazar heard the crack of one of the lighter rifles in the hands of Travers or Pokrovskii. The tseturen was a mere fifteen yards away and moving fast. Over his shoulder, Salazar, shouted:

"Run, Kara!"

Bergen fired again, completely missing. He worked his bolt and found his magazine empty.

"Run, all of you! Scatter!" shouted Salazar.

Bergen reversed his weapon, holding it by the barrel, preparing to bash the animal with the butt.

"You, too, Conrad!" yelled Salazar. But Bergen continued to stand his ground. In the seconds remaining, Salazar sprang to one side, knelt and sighted on the tseturen's neck. His face was twisted with concentration. His rifle cracked, and the tseturen pitched forward on its belly.

Simultaneously, Salazar felt a sharp blow on the head, and his tropical helmet went flying. He staggered, then spun around to see Pokrovskii lowering his rifle. The tubby Suvarovian dropped his gun into the lime-green grass and rushed forward, crying:

"Keit'! Keit'! You are not dead? I stupid ass! I did not mean to shooted you!"

"Just parted my hair," said Salazar, running a hand across his skull. "One centimeter lower and you'd have needed another guide."

"So glad, so happy you are all right! I am world's biggest fool! I would have killed myself if I had murdered you! I will never make a hunter!"

Pokrovskii, face wet with tears, locked Salazar in a bear hug and kissed his cheeks. Kara and Travers added their more restrained expressions of relief at Salazar's survival.

Salazar ruefully examined the remains of his helmet. The bullet had nearly split it in two. With a sigh, he tossed it away.

"I get you odder hat," said Pokrovskii.

"They don't make these on Kukulcan," said Salazar. "I got it in Bombay, on Terra. It would take decades to get another. But ..." He shrugged.

Bergen asked: "Keith, how come you brought down that animal with one shot from your pea shooter, when I couldn't stop it with three from my cannon?"

"I cut the spinal column. Using your gun as a club would have been as futile as hitting it with a flyswatter."

"For a guy who doesn't like hunting, you're sure a killer," said Bergen with grudging admiration. "Those things move pretty fast, in spite of their build."

"Yep; but they run out of wind pretty quickly. I once got away from one by outrunning it."

"You did? Well, you skinny guys have an advantage there. Now we'll start collecting a head. I'll take the other one; it's bigger. Will you tell the Kooks what to do? We ought to get some of the meat, too."

"We shall have all the steaks we can carry—until they get too high," said Salazar as he motioned to the two natives.

Insects had already begun to buzz around the two carcasses in thickening swarms. The rest of the day, Salazar directed five bloodsmeared Kooks as they hacked, sawed, and chopped their way through the tseturen's thick neck. Meanwhile five other Kooks went back to the ridge, felled several small trees, and built a crude sled.

All around the great carcasses, the planet's arthropodal organisms circled in a glittering, buzzing cloud. Most did not molest the Terrans; but one large black-winged buzzer alighted on Bergen's bull neck. Bergen leaped into the air, slapping. The blow crushed the attacker, but a thread of scarlet blood trickled down Bergen's neck.

"What the hell was that, Keith?" growled Bergen, studying the remains of his assailant.

"Forget the scientific name," said Salazar. "Most of these bugs hunt by smell, and our scent is strange to them. But that kind hunts by heat-seeking."

"Is it liable to give me sleeping sickness, or something?"

Salazar shrugged, "Don't rightly know; but it seems unlikely. Few Kukulcanian microorganisms can live in a Terran body."

Salazar thought that his first reaction to Bergen's offer, to refuse it, had been right. It was not impossible that Pokrovskii had shot at Salazar on Bergen's order, to get him out of the way as a possible rival for Kara. In any case, the archaeologist resolved to cut the hunt as short as he could.