"Not my
chief!"
Foscar shrugged. "He say so. He give good things to get you back under
his hand. So--he your chief!"
Once again Ross was boosted on his mount, and bound. But this time the
party split into two groups as they rode off. He was with Ennar again,
just behind Foscar, with two other guards bringing up the rear. The rest
of the men, leading their mounts, melted into the trees. Ross watched
that quiet withdrawal speculatively. It argued that Foscar did not trust
those he was about to do business with, that he was taking certain
precautions of his own. Only Ross could not see how that distrust, which
might be only ordinary prudence on Foscar's part, could in any way be an
advantage for him.
They rode at a pace hardly above a walk into a small open meadow
narrowing at the east. Then for the first time Ross was able to place
himself. They were at the entrance to the valley of the village, about
a mile away from the narrow throat above which Ross had lain to spy and
had been captured, for he had come from the north over the spurs of
rising ridges.
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