GIVING CHASE

Soames had reached the edge of the mound's flat summit. The llama bent its head,

contemplating him. As he scrambled over that edge and thrust out a hand to grasp its bridle, it

flicked about, sprang to the opposite side and leaped to the sands.

The clamor of the elfin horns about Soames had never stilled. Graydon watched him wince,

strike out, bend his head and guard his eyes as though from a shower of blows. And whatever

was that attack of the invisible, it did not daunt him. He leaped across the mound and slid

down its side, close behind the llama. As he reached the base, Starrett arose, swaying

drunkenly.

The horn notes ceased abruptly, like candles blown out by a sudden blast. Dancret came

running around the slope. The three stood arguing, gesticulating. Their clothes were ripped to

rags, and as Soames shifted and the moonlight fell full upon him, his face showed streaked

with blood.

The llama was walking across the sands, as slowly as though it were tempting them to further

pursuit. It was strange how its shape now stood out sharply, and now faded almost to a

ghostly tenuity. When it reappeared, it was as if the moonbeams thickened, swirled, wove

swiftly, and spun it from themselves. The llama faded—and then grew again upon the warp

and woof of the rays like a pattern on an enchanted loom.

Starrett's hand swept down to his belt. Before he could cover the white beast with his

automatic, Soames caught his wrist. He spoke wrathfully, peremptorily. Graydon knew he

was warning Starrett of the danger of the pistol crack, urging silence.

The three scattered, Dancret and Starrett to the left and right to flank the llama, Soames

approaching it cautiously to keep from frightening it into a run. But as he neared it, the

animal broke into a gentle lope and headed for another hillock.

For an instant Graydon thought he saw upon the crest of that mound the figure in motley, red

staff raised and pointing at the llama. He looked more intently and decided his eyes had

played a trick upon him, for the crest was empty. The llama leaped lightly up to it. As before,

Soames and the two Others closed in. They swarmed up the mound.

Instantly the elfin horns rang out—menacingly. The three hesitated, stopped their climbing.

Then Starrett slid down, ran back a few paces, raised his pistol and fired. The white llama

fell.

"The fool! The damned fool!" groaned Graydon.

The silence that followed the shot was broken by a tempest of the elfin horns. It swept down

upon the three. Dancret shrieked, and ran toward the camp, beating the air as he came.

Halfway, he dropped and lay still. And Soames and Starrett they, too, were buffeting the air

with great blows, ducking and dodging. The elfin horns were now a raging tumult—death

creeping into their notes.

Starrett fell to his knees, arose and lurched away. He fell again, not far from Dancret and lay

as still as he. And now Soames went down, fighting to the last. The three lay upon the sands,

motionless.

Graydon shook himself into action, and leaped forward. He felt a touch upon his shoulder. A

tingling numbness ran through his body. With difficulty he turned his head. Behind him was

the figure in motley. His red staff it was that had taken from him all power to move, even as it

had paralyzed the spider-man and sent him into the jaws of the dinosaurs.

The red staff pointed to the three bodies. Instantly, as at some command, the clamor of the

horns lifted from around them, swirled high in air—and stilled.