full-grown. It lacks the second neck ring. Yet it is banded."

The merman was right. That unpleasant wattle of armored flesh which
necklaced the serpent throat of the devil Dalgard had picked as his
target was thin, not the thick roll of fat such as distinguished its
two companions. It was not fully adult, yet the band was plain to see
on the foreleg now stretched to its full length as the sun bored down
to supply the heavy heat the snake-devils relished next to food.

"Then--" Dalgard did not like to think of what might be the answer to
that "then."

Sssuri shrugged. "It is plain that these are not wild roamers. They
are here for a purpose. And that purpose--" Suddenly his arm shot out
so that his fingers protruded through the slits in the stone grille.
"See?"

Dalgard had already seen, in seeing he knew hot and terrible anger.
Out of the filthy mess in which the snake-devils wallowed, something
had rolled, perhaps thrown about in play by the unspeakable offspring.
A skull, dried scraps of fur and flesh still clinging to it, stared
hollow-eyed up at them. At least one merman had fallen prey to the
nightmares who ruled the arena.

Sssuri hissed and the red rage in his mind was plain to Dalgard. "Once
more they deal death here--" His eyes went from the skull to the
monsters. "Kill!" The command was imperative and sharp.

Dalgard had qualified as a master bowman before he had first gone
roving. And the killing of snake-devils was a task which had been set