He was still a captive, even though of the tribesmen
and not the unearthly strangers. Perhaps to the ship people these
primitives were hardly higher in scale than the forest animals.
Ross did not try to talk to his present guard, who towed him into the
western sun of late afternoon. They halted at last in that same small
grove where they had rested at noon. The tribesman fastened the mounts
and then walked around to inspect the animal Ross had ridden. With a
grunt he loosened the prisoner and spilled him unceremoniously on the
ground while he examined the horse. Ross levered himself up to sight the
mark of the burn across that roan hide where the fire had blistered the
skin.
Thick handfuls of mud from the side of the spring were brought and
plastered over the seared strip. Then, having rubbed down both animals
with twists of grass, the man came over to Ross, pushed him back to the
ground, and studied his left leg.
Ross understood. By rights, his thigh should also have been scorched
where the flame had hit, yet he had felt no pain.
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