Jonnie crouched and whirled. Terl was still standing in the library door. Jonnie grabbed the handgun from his pouch and threw the safety off. He let the handgun show.

"If you fire on them you're dead!” he shouted.

Terl just stood there.

There was a turmoil of horses behind Jonnie. He risked a glance back. Windsplitter had reared. He had seen no reason not to approach his master. He was fighting to come forward.

“Run, Chrissie! Run!” screamed Jonnie.

Terl was walking forward, rumbling, indolent. He had not drawn his gun.

“Tell them to ride up closer,” called Terl.

“Stand where you are!” shouted Jonnie. "I’ll shoot!”

Terl leisurely strolled forward. “Don't get them hurt, animal.”

Jonnie stepped out from the tree. The handgun was extended. He was sighting it on Terl's mask tube.

“Be reasonable, animal,” said Terl. But he stopped.

“You knew they would be here today!” said Jonnie.

“Yes,” said Terl. "I’ve been tracking them by recon drone for days. Ever since they left your village. Put the gun away, animal.”

Behind him Jonnie could hear the horses milling. If only they would run!

Terl, paw staying clear of his gun, was reaching for his breast pocket.

“Stay still or I’ll shoot!” called Jonnie.

“Well, animal, you can go ahead and pull the firing catch if you like. The electrical connector has a dummy wire in it.”

Jonnie looked at the gun. He took a deep breath and lined it up. He clenched the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Terl finished his motion to his breast pocket. He took out the gold coin and tossed it in the air and caught it. "l, not Ker, sold you the gun, animal.”

Jonnie pulled a kill-club from his belt. He braced himself for a charge.

Terl's paw motion was swifter than the eye. His belt gun was out. It fired a sharp bark.

An inhuman scream racketed out behind Jonnie. He glanced back. A pack horse was down, threshing.

“Your friends will be next,” said Terl. Jonnie lowered the club.

“That's better,” said Terl. “Now help me round these creatures up so we can get them in the truck.”

The truck bumped southward with its cargo of freight and despair.

Collared and cinched up to a bracing, Jonnie looked over the scene in misery.

Pattie, bruised from a fall in the melee, was sitting bolt upright, arms lashed to her sides and her back lashed to a truck stake. She was in shock and her face was gray-white. She was eight now.

The wounded horse, still bleeding from a deep blast penetration in its right shoulder, still burdened with its pack, lay on its side, legs kicking slightly from time to time. Terl had simply picked it up and dumped it into the truck bed. Jonnie worried that it might kick out and break the left leg of another horse. It was one of Jonnie's old string, named Blodgett.

The three other horses were snubbed tight to the truck stakes and their nostrils were flaring in fear as the plain fled fast below the vehicle.

Chrissie was lashed to a bracing across from Jonnie. Her eyes were shut. Her breathing was shallow.

Questions had surged in Jonnie but he blocked them with tight lips. His own plans looked futile to him. He blamed himself for delaying his escape. He might have known that Terl had it all worked out. Hatred of the monster choked his throat.

At length Chrissie opened her eyes and looked at him. She saw he was watching Pattie.

“I couldn't leave her,” said Chrissie. “She followed and I took her back twice, but the third time we were too far out in the plain; it was better to go on.”

“Just rest, Chrissie," said Jonnie.

The horse Blodgett moaned as the truck banged over some rough ground.

“I know I was early,” said Chrissie. “But Windsplitter came home. He was on the plain below the pass, and some of the boys were out to drive some cattle up and they saw him and Dancer and brought them in.” Dancer was the lead horse Jonnie had taken, a mare.

Chrissie was quiet for a while. Then: "Windsplitter had a fresh scar on him like a puma had raked him and it looked like perhaps he might have run off and left you. I thought maybe you were hurt.”

Yes, thought Jonnie. Windsplitter could have wandered back last year and when he tried to mount up through the passes found them blocked with snow. He would have wandered back to winter on the plain, followed by Dancer. There was a deep furrow, now healing, on Windsplitter's rump.

“It’s all right,” said Jonnie soothingly.

“I couldn't stand the idea of you lying down there hurt,” said Chrissie.

The truck bumped on for a while.

“Jonnie, there was a Great Village,” said Chrissie.

“I know,” said Jonnie.

"Jonnie, that's a monster, isn't it?” She twitched her head toward the cab.

“Yes,” said Jonnie. “It won't harm you.” Any lie to calm her.

“I heard you speak its language. It has a language, and you talk it.”

"I’ve been its captive for almost a year,” said Jonnie.

“What will it do? To Pattie? To us?”

“Don't worry too much about it, Chrissie." Yes, god alone knew what the monster would do to them now. There was no reason to tell her this had messed up his escape. It wasn't her fault. It was his own. He had delayed too long.

The truck swerved across a broken bridge and jolted on.

Jonnie decided he had better tell her something to calm her. “It apparently wants something from me. I will have to do it now. It won't really harm you. Just threats. When I’ve done whatever it is, it will let us go.” He didn't like to lie. He had felt all along that Terl would kill him when he had served his unknown purpose.

Chrissie managed a shaky smile. “Old Mr. Jimson is parson and mayor now. We got through the winter all right.”

She was silent for a while. “We only ate two of your horses.”

“That's good, Chrissie."

“I made you some new buckskins,” said Chrissie. “They're in that pack.”

“Thank you, Chrissie.”

Pattie, her eyes dilated, suddenly screamed, “Is it going to eat us?”

“No, no, Pattie," said Jonnie. “It doesn't eat living things. It 's all right, Pattie.”

She subsided.

“Jonnie.” Chrissie paused. “You're alive. That's the main thing, Jonnie.” Tears welled out of her eyes. “I thought you were dead!”

Yes. He was alive. They were alive. But he didn't know for how long. He thought of Terl breaking the legs of the cattle.

The truck rattled through an expanse of brush.

"Jonnie," said Chrissie. “You're not mad at me, are you?”

Oh, dear god. Mad at you. Oh god, no. He couldn't talk. He shook his head.

The roar of the mine became louder in the distance.

They had been left in the truck throughout the chilly night. Terl had simply put a couple of button cameras on it, one at each end, and had gone off to his quarters.

But it was midmorning now and Terl had been bustling about the cages since before dawn. Jonnie had not been able to turn his head enough to see what he was doing; the collar and leash had never been so tight.

Terl came to the back of the truck and dropped its gate. He led the horses out and tied the lead ropes to a tree. Then he bodily shoved the wounded horse off the truck and when it hit the ground shoved it further out of the way. It was trying to stand and he cuffed it, knocking it down again.

He came onto the bed and unfastened Pattie. He had a collar in his paw and he clamped it around Pattie's throat. He pulled out a welding torch and welded it shut and then welded a lead to it. Picking the little girl up with one swoop, he went off with her.

Presently he came back. Chrissie shrank away from him. He had another collar and he welded it on. Jonnie had a closer look at it as the leash was fastened. This collar had a red bulge on its side. Jonnie realized that Pattie's had had one too.