had dug one up, he would cut off the roots and then slice away the
root-bark with a knife, putting it into a sack. Hradzka's lip curled
contemptuously; the fellow was gathering the stuff for medicinal use. He
had heard of the use of roots and herbs for such purposes by the ancient
savages.

The blaster would be no use here; it was too powerful, and would destroy
the clothing that the man was wearing. He unfastened a strap from his
belt and attached it to a stone to form a hand-loop, then, inched
forward behind the lone herb-gatherer. When he was close enough, he
straightened and rushed forward, swinging his improvised weapon. The man
heard him and turned, too late.

* * * * *

After undressing his victim, Hradzka used the mattock to finish him, and
then to dig a grave. The fugitive buried his own clothes with the
murdered man, and donned the faded blue shirt, rough shoes, worn
trousers and jacket. The blaster he concealed under the jacket, and he
kept a few other Hundredth Century gadgets; these he would hide
somewhere closer to his center of operations.

He had kept, among other things, a small box of food-concentrate
capsules, and in one pocket of the newly acquired jacket he found a
package containing food. It was rough and unappetizing fare--slices of
cold cooked meat between slices of some cereal substance. He ate these
before filling in the grave, and put the paper wrappings in with the
dead man. Then, his work finished, he threw the mattock into the brush
and set out again, grimacing disgustedly and scratching himself. The
clothing he had appropriated was verminous.