There at his feet, in plain view under a little maple sapling, lay
something that held him frozen with astonishment.

He snatched it up, dropping the sledge to do so.

"What? _What?_" he stammered; and at the thing he stared with widened,
uncomprehending eyes.

"Merciful God! How--what--?" cried he.

The thing he held in his hand was a broad, fat, flint assegai-point!



CHAPTER IX

HEADWAY AGAINST ODDS


Stern gazed at this alarming object with far more trepidation
than he would have eyed a token authentically labeled: "Direct from
Mars."

For the space of a full half-minute he found no word, grasped no
coherent thought, came to no action save to stand there,
thunder-struck, holding the rotten leather bag in one hand, the
spear-head in the other.

Then, suddenly, he shouted a curse and made as though to fling it
clean away. But ere it had left his grasp, he checked himself.