The beast that held her crouched and the creature
that faced it crouched also, and growled--as hideously as the other.
Pan-at-lee trembled. This was no Ho-don and though she feared the
Ho-don she feared this thing more, with its catlike crouch and its
beastly growls. She was lost--that Pan-at-lee knew. The two things
might fight for her, but whichever won she was lost. Perhaps, during
the battle, if it came to that, she might find the opportunity to
throw herself over into the Kor-ul-gryf.
The thing that held her she had recognized now as a Tor-o-don, but
the other thing she could not place, though in the moonlight she
could see it very distinctly. It had no tail. She could see its
hands and its feet, and they were not the hands and feet of the
races of Pal-ul-don. It was slowly closing upon the Tor-o-don and
in one hand it held a gleaming knife. Now it spoke and to Pan-at-lee's
terror was added an equal weight of consternation.
"When it leaves go of you," it said, "as it will presently to
defend itself, run quickly behind me, Pan-at-lee, and go to the
cave nearest the pegs you descended from the cliff top. Watch from
there. If I am defeated you will have time to escape this slow
thing; if I am not I will come to you there. I am Om-at's friend
and yours."
The last words took the keen edge from Pan-at-lee's terror; but she
did not understand.
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