ease here than he himself was.

As the street they followed brought them into an open space surrounded
by more imposing buildings, they made another discovery which blotted
out all thoughts of forbidden knowledge and awakened them to a more
normal and everyday danger.

A fountain, which no longer played but gave birth to a crooked stream
of water, was in the center. And in the muddy verge of the stream,
pressed deep, was the fresh track of a snake-devil. Almost full grown,
Dalgard estimated, measuring the print with his fingers. Sssuri
pivoted slowly, studying the circle of buildings about them.

"An hour--maybe two--" Dalgard gave a hunter's verdict on the age of
the print. He, too, eyed those buildings. To meet a snake-devil in the
open was one thing, to play hide-and-seek with the cunning monster in
a warren such as this was something else again. He hoped that the
reptile had been heading for the open, but he doubted it. This mass of
buildings would provide just the type of shelter which would appeal to
it for a lair. And snake-devils did not den alone!

"Try by the river," Sssuri gave advice. Like Dalgard, he accepted the
necessity of the chase. No intelligent creature ever lost the chance
to kill a snake-devil when fortune offered it. And he and the scout
had hunted together on such trails before. Now they slipped into
familiar roles from long practice.

They took a route which should lead them to the river, and within a
matter of yards, came across evidence proving that the merman had
guessed correctly; a second claw print was pressed deep in a patch of