The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

thrust of his own, and his foot came down hard on a sharp pebble. Through the sole of his moccasin pain shot upward, caused him to stumble. Again the scarlet flame of a wound, down his shoulder and forearm this time.
    Well, there was one trick, he knew. Travis tossed the knife into the air, caught it with his left hand. Deklay was now facing a left-handed fighter and must adjust to that.
    “Paw, bull, rattle your horns!” Travis cried. “The Fox still shows his teeth!”
    Deklay recovered from his instant of surprise. With a cry which was indeed like the bellow of an old range bull, he rushed into grapple, sure of his superior strength against a younger and already wounded man.
    Travis ducked, one knee thumping the ground. He groped out with his right hand, caught up a handful of earth, and flung it into the dusky brown face. Again it seemed that luck was on his side. That handful could not be as blinding as sand, but some bit of the shower landed in Deklay’s eye.
    For a space of seconds Deklay was wide open—open for a blow which would rip him up the middle, the blow Travis could not and would not deliver.
    Instead, he took the offensive recklessly, springing straight for his opponent. As the earth-grimed fingers of one hand clawed into Deklay’s face, he struck with the other, not with the point of the knife but with its shaft. But Deklay, already only half conscious from the blow, had his own chance. He fell to the ground, leaving his knife behind, two inches of steel between Travis’ ribs.
    Somehow—he didn’t know from where he drew that strength—Travis kept his feet and took one step and then another, out of the circle until the comforting brace of a tree trunk was against his bare back. Was he finished—?
    He fought to nurse his rags of consciousness. Had he summoned Buck with his eyes? Or had the urgency of what he had to say reached somehow from mind to mind? The other was at his side, but Travis put out a hand to ward him off.
    “Towers—” He struggled to keep his wits through the pain and billowing weakness beginning to creep through him. “Reds mustn’t get to the towers! Worse than the bomb…end us all!”
    He had a hazy glimpse of Nolan and Jil-Lee closing in about him. The desire to cough tore at him, but they had to know, to believe.…
    “Reds get to the towers—everything finished. Not only here…maybe back home too.…”
    Did he read comprehension on Buck’s face? Would Nolan and Jil-Lee and the rest believe him? Travis could not suppress the cough any longer, and the ripping pain which followed was the worst he had ever experienced. But still he kept his feet, tried to make them understand.
    “Don’t let them get to the towers. Find that storehouse!”
    Travis stood away from the tree, reached out to Buck his earth and bloodstained hand. “I swear…truth…this must be done!”
    He was going down, and he had a queer thought that once he reached the ground everything would end, not only for him but also for his mission. Trying to see the faces of the men about him was like attempting to identify the people in a dream.
    “Towers!” He had meant to shout it, but he could not even hear for himself that last word as he fell.
    CHAPTER 14
    Travis’ back was braced against blanketed packs as he steadied a piece of light-yellow bark against one bent knee scowling at the lines drawn on it in faint green.
    “We are here then…and the ship there—” His thumb was set on one point of the crude map, forefinger on the other. Buck nodded.
    “That is so. Tsoay, Eskelta, Kawaykle, they watch the trails. There is the pass, two other ways men can come on foot. But who can watch the air?”
    “The Tatars say the Reds dare not bring the ’copter into the mountains. After they first landed they lost a flyer in a tricky air-current flow up there. They have only one left and won’t risk it. If only they aren’t reinforced before we can move!” There it was again, that constant gnawing fear of time, time shortening into a rope to strangle them all.
    “You think that the knowledge of our ship will bring them into the open?”
    “That—or information about the towers would be the only things important enough to pull out their experts. They could send a controlled Tatar party to explore the ship, sure. But that wouldn’t give them the technical reports they need. No, I think if they knew a wrecked Western Confederation ship was here, it would bring them—or enough of them to