"Time!" called Kamchak.

The judge looked startled, as though he could not believe what he had seen. He took his hand from the side of the "Time!" called Kamchak.

The judge looked at him. "Seventeen," he whispered. The crowd was silent, then, suddenly, as unexpectedly as a clap of thunder, they began to roar and cheer Kamchak was thumping a very despondent looking Conrad and Albrecht on the shoulders.

I looked down at Dina of Turia. Looking at me in rage, she began to pull and squirm in the thongs, twisting in the grass.

The judge allowed her to do so for perhaps a few lien, may- be thirty seconds or so,"The wench is secured," he said.

There was another great cry and cheer from the crowd. They were mostly Tuchuks, and were highly pleased with what they had seen, but I saw, too, that even the Kassars and the one or two Paravaci present and the Kataii were unstint- ing in their acclaim. The crowd had gone mad.

Elizabeth Cardwell was leaping up and down clapping her hands.

I looked down at Dina, who lay at my feet, now no longer struggling.

I removed the bole from her legs.

With my quiva I slashed the thong on her ankles, permit- ting her to struggle to her feet.

She stood facing me, clad Kajir, her wrists still thonged behind her.

I refastened the bole at my saddle. "I keep my bole, it seems," I said.

She tried to free her wrists, but could not, of course, do so.

Helpless she stood waiting for me.

I then took Dina of Turia in my arms and, at some length, and with a certain admitted satisfaction, collected my win- nings. Because she had annoyed me the kiss that was hers was that of master to a slave girl; yet was I patient because the kiss itself was not enough; I was not satisfied until, despite herself, I read in my arms her body's sudden, involun- tary admission that I had conquered. "Master," she said, her eyes glazed, too weak to struggle against the thongs that encircled her wrists. With a cheerful slap I sped her back to Albrecht, who, angry, with the tip of his lance, severed the bonds that had confined her. Kamchak was laughing, and Conrad as well. And, too, many in the crowd. Elizabeth Cardwell, however, to my surprise, seemed furious. She had pulled on her furs. When I looked at her, she looked away, angrily.

I wondered what was the matter with her.

Had I not saved her?

Were not the points between Kamchak and I, and Conrad and Albrecht event Was she not safe and the match at an end?

"The score is tied," said Kamchak, "and the wager is concluded. There is no winner."

"/Agreed," said Conrad.

"No," said Albrecht.

We looked at him.

"Lance and tospit," he said.

"The match is at an end," I said.

"There is no winner," protested Albrecht.

"That is true," said Kamchak.

"There must be a winner," said Albrecht.

"I have ridden enough for today," said Kamchak.

"I, too," said Conrad. "Let us return to our wagons." Albrecht pointed his lance at me. "You are challenged," he said. "Lance and tospit."

"We have finished with that," I said.

"The living wand!" shouted Albrecht.

Kamchak sucked in his breath.

Several in the crowd shouted out, "The living wand!" I looked at Kamchak. I saw in his eyes that the challenge must be accepted. In this matter I must be Tuchuk. Save for armed combat, lance and tospit with the living wand is the most dangerous of the sports of the Wagon Peoples.

In this sport, as might be expected, one's own slave must stand for one. It is essentially the same sport as lancing the tospit from the wand, save that the fruit is held in the mouth of a girl, who is slain should she move or in any way withdraw from the lance.

Needless to say many a slave girl has been injured in this cruel sport.

"I do not want to stand for him!" cried out Elizabeth Cardwell.

"Stand for him, Slave," snarled Kamchak.

Elizabeth Cardwell took her position, standing sideways, the tospit held delicately between her teeth.

For some reason she did not seem afraid but rather, to my mind, incomprehensibly infuriated. She should have been shuddering with terror. Instead she seemed indignant. But she stood like a rock and when I thundered past her the tip of my lance had been thrust through the tospit. The girl who had bitten the neck of the kaiila, and whose leg had been torn by its teeth, stood for Albrecht. With almost scornful ease he raced past her lifting the tospit from her mouth with the tip of his lance.

"Three points for each," announced the judge.

"We are finished," I said to Albrecht. "It is a tie. There is no winner."

He held his saddle on his rearing kaiila. "There will be a winner!" he cried. "Facing the lancer"

"I will not ride," I said.

"I claim victory and the woman" shouted Albrecht.

"It will be his," said the judge, "if you do not ride." I would ride.

Elizabeth, unmoving, faced me, some fifty yards away. This is the most difficult of the lance sports. The thrust must be made with exquisite lightness, the lance loose in the hand, the hand not in the retaining thong, but allowing the lance to slip back, then when clear, moving it to the left and, hopefully, past the living wand. If well done, this is a delicate and beautiful stroke. If clumsily done the girl will be scarred, or perhaps slain.

Elizabeth stood facing me, not frightened, but seemingly rather put upon. Her fists were even clenched.

I hoped that she would not be injured. When she had stood sideways I had favored the left, so that if the stroke was in error, the lance would miss the tospit altogether; but now, as she faced me, the stroke must be made for the center of the fruit; nothing else would do.

The gait of the kaiila was swift and even.

A cry went up from the crowd as I passed Elizabeth, the tospit on the point of the lance.

Warriors were pounding on the lacquered shields with their lances. Men shouted. I heard the thrilled cries of slave girls. I turned to see Elizabeth waver, and almost faint, but she did not do so.

Albrecht the Kassar, angry, lowered his lance and set out for his girl.

In an instant he had passed her, the tospit riding the lance tip.

The girl was standing perfectly still, smiling.

The crowd cheered as well for Albrecht.

Then they were quiet, for the judge was rushing to the lance of Albrecht, demanding it.

Albrecht the Kassar, puzzled, surrendered the weapon. "There is blood on the weapon," said the judge.

"She was not touched," cried Albrecht.

"I was not touched!" cried the air!.

The judge showed the point of the lance. There was a tiny stain of blood at its tip, and too there was a smear of blood on the skin of the small yellowish-white fruit.

"Open your mouth, slave," demanded the judge.

The girl shook her head.

"Do it," said Albrecht.

She did so and the judge, holding her teeth apart roughly with his hands, peered within. There was blood in her mouth. The girl had been swallowing it, rather than show she had been struck.

It seemed to me she was a brave, fine girl.

It was with a kind of shock that I suddenly realized that she, and Dina of Turia, now belonged to Kamchak and myself.

The two girls, while Elizabeth Cardwell looked on angrily, knelt before Kamchak and myself, lowering their heads, lifting and extending their arms, wrists crossed. Kamchak, chuckling, leaped down from his kaiila and quickly, with binding fiber, bound their wrists. He then put a leather thong on the neck of each and tied the free ends to the pommel of his saddle. Thus secured, the girls knelt beside the paws of his kaiila. I saw Dina of Turia look at me. In her eyes, soft with tears, I read the timid concession that I was her master. "I do not know what we need with all these slaves," Elizabeth Cardwell was saying.