Was he dreaming?
Or had the long chase and his privations unhinged his mind?
He reached for Nagger.

No! The big black was real, alive, quivering, pounding the sand.

He scented an enemy.
Once more Slone peered down into the void or what seemed a void.

But it, too, had changed, lightened.

The whole valley was brightening.
Great palls of curling smoke rose white and yellow, to turn back as the monuments met their crests, and then to roll upward, blotting out the stars.