The women were slinging the brown leather sacks off their backs now, opening them, and shaking out the contents onto the ground. There were weighted cords, things that looked like rolled-up nets, small axes that winked in the sunlight, and several large jars. The leader began pulling the stoppers out of the jars, and a powerful odor of something rich and sweet filled the clearing. Even up on his branch, Blade found it almost unpleasantly strong.

It did not appear to bother the women at all. Now they took off their moccasins and began moving barefooted about the clearing. It was obvious that they were trying not to disturb even the smallest leaf. Carefully they picked up the jars and set them in a wide circle that covered most of the clearing. Then, one by one, they slipped behind the trees around the clearing. Blade's trained eyes saw faint flickers of movement in the shade and the greenery as they settled down to wait. The trap was laid and baited. Now there was nothing for either Blade or the women to do but wait for the quarry to appear. Blade shifted position slightly, away from a branch that was digging into his ribs.

Time passed. The light from above no longer gilded the needles so brightly or came down at quite the same angle. The day was moving on. Sweat ran down Blade's body and attracted small insects. All whined maddeningly, and some of them bit or stung. High above, the chrrrreeek of a large bird or tree-dwelling animal sounded through the forest.

Then the breeze became stronger, making the needles whisper more loudly and the branch sway more. It dried the sweat from Blade's skin and drove the insects away, but it also forced him to hold on harder. And it suggested that the coming night might be chilly-too chilly for the comfort or safety of a naked man. But even so, Blade still did not care to risk unnecessarily the arrows of the huntresses below. He shifted again to ease cramped limbs, listening to the branch creak under him and smelling the odor of whatever was in the bait pots.

Then once again he caught a flicker of movement off to the right. There was something about the movement suggesting raw, careless, animal strength, rather than the stalking pace of the women. Whoever or whatever was approaching was certainly making no effort to keep quiet. Blade heard a steadily swelling chorus of grunts, growls, and half-verbalized mutterings. He began to hear heavy footsteps and a continuous cracking of twigs and rustle of leaves.

Then Blade saw the approaching party through a gap in the curtain of needles. There were four of them, and Blade's first startled question to himself was-man or ape? Certainly they had shaggy pelts more like a gorilla's than anything else, large, knob-knuckled hands on unnaturally long arms, and low foreheads with massive ridges of bone over the eyes. But they walked erect, occasionally turning their heads from side to side to sniff the air. They communicated by means of real speech, not just animal growls. And each carried a stout club slung by a leather thong from a leather belt around his waist. These men were Neanderthal level or perhaps even more primitive, definitely far below whatever level the women represented. But they were certainly men.

It also began to look as if they were the intended prey of the huntresses. Blade tensed in anticipation of a sudden explosion of violence in the peaceful clearing below. His eyes drifted from the wild men to the trees that concealed the women lying in ambush. They had covered their tracks well, but perhaps the men would scent them-or him. That was an unpleasant thought. The wild men looked even less likely to give him a peaceful reception than the women did.

Blade suddenly realized what the purpose of the sweetness in the pots was. Not only was it bait; its strong odor would overwhelm any lingering traces of the scent of the women, and make the wild men careless.

It was doing just that right now. The four men were scurrying across the clearing with cries of delight, like children let out of school. Each of them headed straight to one of the pots and squatted down beside it. With more cheerful cries and hoots, they thrust their massive hands inside and began scooping out the contents. It was a thick, sticky paste, semitranslucent like crystallized honey, with white crystals of sugar in it.

The wild men ate greedily, cramming the paste into their mouths in enormous dripping handfuls, then gulping it down with frantic workings of mouth and throat. Blade had the impression that the paste was a rare treat for them. So rare, in fact, that the desire to cram down as much of it as they could wiped out all thoughts of possible danger. Blade shook his head in half-amused frustration. He was tempted to warn the wild men, but would the warning penetrate their hunger-fogged minds even if he gave it? And what would the women do then, the women lying in wait behind the trees?

Moments later, the women were no longer lying in wait. Like eight graceful cats, they leaped out from their hiding places. Each had her short sword drawn, but carried it in her left hand. In her right hand each swung one of the weighted cords.

Still absorbed in their feast, the wild men were fatally slow to react. Before more than one of them could raise his hand or turn around, the weighted cords soared through the air. The weights whipped the cords around arms and legs, pulling the men to a stop as they tried to rise and flee. Then they turned with savage howls, snatched their clubs from their belts, and charged their attackers.

But the women had their swords ready as the wild men came at them. The swords stabbed and flickered in the air in darting flashes of light. One of the wild men howled and dropped his club, clutching at his stomach, where red blood was suddenly flowing over the filth-matted hair. In an instant the woman who had struck him closed with him, jerking the cord so that he toppled to the ground. As he went down, she shifted her grip on the sword and struck with the flat of the blade at his temple. There was a solid smack, and the heavy-muscled arms and legs relaxed.

The other three men had managed to avoid the women's initial rush. Now they had formed a rough triangle, back to back, waving their clubs and growling and cursing savagely at the women circling around them. The bare-breasted woman threw her head back and laughed harshly. The leader motioned her to silence with a sharp gesture of her spear.

Suddenly one of the wild men broke and ran. Blade noticed that he had a massive triangular blue scar on his stomach. The cord around his treelike thigh went tight as a bar with an audible twang. One of the women darted at him, but his club thrashed out at her, striking her sword aside with a clang. She jumped back as suddenly as she had moved in, rubbing a hand numbed by the shock. The wild man jerked again on the cord, making the woman holding it stagger and nearly lose her balance. The man's eyes widened as he saw that. Waving his club high over his head, he threw it straight at the woman. It struck her on the side of the jaw, and Blade heard the crunch of breaking bone. The woman gave a muffled scream of pain and let go the cord.

Instantly the wild man leaped high into the air, six feet off the ground. He sailed over the heads of the circle of women with a scream of triumph. Two waved swords frantically upward, one grabbed desperately for her bow, the leader came rushing over with her spear held ready. But before any of them could close, the scarred wild man was vanishing into the forest. Branches and twigs crackled behind him in a rapidly diminishing uproar. Blade could not help hoping the fugitive would get away.

With one comrade down and the other fled, the remaining two wild men seemed to have no will left to resist. With pathetically childlike whimpers, they threw their clubs down and slumped to the ground, their heads hanging low. The seven women still uninjured closed in and slashed the men's belts. They did not seem to care much whether they nicked the flesh underneath or not. Blade saw one of the men wince, and a bloody furrow appeared on his hairy skin just above his groin.