DEPARTURE

The white sands of the barren were wan in the first gleam of the dawn. A chill wind was blowing down from the heights. Graydon walked over to the three men, and drew their blankets aside. They were breathing normally, seemed to be deep in sleep, and the strange punctured wounds had closed. And yet—they looked like dead men, livid and wan as the pallid sands beneath the spreading dawn. He shivered again, but this time not from the touch of the chill wind.

He drew his automatic from Soames' belt, satisfied himself that it was properly loaded and thrust it into his pocket. Then he emptied all their weapons. Whatever the peril they were to meet, he was convinced that it was one against which firearms would be useless. And he had no desire to be again at their mercy.

He went back to the fire, made coffee, threw together a breakfast and returned to the sleeping men. As he stood watching them, Soames groaned and sat up. He stared at Graydon blankly,

then stumbled to his feet. His gaze roved round restlessly. He saw the golden panniers beside

Sierra's tent. His dull eyes glittered, and something of crafty exultance passed over his face.

"Come, Soames, and get some hot coffee in you," Graydon touched his arm.

Soames turned with a snarl, his hand falling upon the butt of his automatic. Graydon stepped

back, his fingers closing upon the gun in his pocket. But Soames made no further move

toward him. He was looking again at the panniers, glinting in the rising sun. He stirred

Starrett with his foot, and the big man staggered up, mumbling. The movement aroused

Dan.

Soames pointed to the golden hampers, then strode stiffly to the silken tent, useless pistol in

hand, Starrett and Dan at his heels. Graydon began to follow. He felt a light touch on his

shoulder. Sierra stood beside him.

"Let them do as they will, Graydon," she said. "They can harm no one—now. And none can

help them."

They watched silently as Soames ripped open the flap of the silken tent and passed within. He

came out a moment later, and the three set to work pulling out the golden pegs. Soames rolled

tent and pegs together and thrust them into one of the hampers. They plodded back to camp,

Starrett and Dan dragging the hampers behind them.

As they passed Graydon, he felt a wonder filled with vague terror. Something of humanness

had been withdrawn from them, something inhuman had taken its place. They walked less

like men than like automatons. They paid no heed to him or the girl. Their eyes were vacant

except when they turned their heads to look at the golden burden. They reached the burros

and fastened the hampers upon two of them.

"It is time to start, Graydon," urged Sierra. "The Lord of Folly grows impatient."

He stared at her, then laughed, thinking her jesting. She glanced toward the figure in motley.

"Why do you laugh?" she asked. "He stands there waiting for us—the Lord Tidd, the Lord

of Folly, of all the Lords the only one who has not abandoned Yu-Atlanchi. The Mother would not have let me take this journey without him." He looked at her more closely—this, surely, was mockery. But her eyes met his steadily, gravely.