And he was trembling.
"Now what are we up against ?" grumbled O'Keefe.
The green dwarf stretched a hand; stiffened; gazed over to the left of us beyond a lower hillock upon whose broad crest lay a file of the moss shapes.

They fringed it, their mitres having a grotesque appearance of watching what lay below.

The glistening road lay there--and from it came a shout.

A dozen of the _coria_ clustered, filled with Lugur's men and in one of them Lugur himself, laughing wickedly! There was a rush of soldiers and up the low hillock raced a score of them toward us.
"Run!" shouted Rador.
"Not much!" grunted Larry--and took swift aim at Lugur.

The automatic spat: Olaf's echoed.