Then there sounded, slightly to my left, the soft rustle of a moccasoned foot, and a low, guttural voice muttered some indistinct sentences.

The lurking form in my front appeared to rise, and there was a brief grunt as if in response to command.

Then a huge warrior stalked past so close that his moccasoned foot planted itself fairly between my outstretched arms.

Instantly he faded away within the enveloping gloom, and with hardly the hesitation of a moment I was on hands and knees creeping toward my goal.

With groping fingers I touched the riven trunk that formed the threshold, and, reaching upward, noted with a thrill of delight that merely a heavy curtain of woven straw guarded the interior.