Part 8 (1/2)
”When that thing gets on a hot scent”--he snapped off the beam--”the beetle-heads won't be able to control it. There will be no reason for them to attempt to. Those hounds obey their first orders: kill--or capture. And I think this one operates on 'capture.' So they'll loose it to run ahead of their party.”
”And we move to knock it out?” Shann relied now on the other's experience.
Thorvald rose. ”It would need a blaster on full power to finish off a hound. No, we can't kill it. But we can make it a doorkeeper to our advantage.” He trotted down into the valley, Shann beside him without understanding in the least, but aware that Thorvald did have some plan.
The officer bent, searched the ground, and began to pull from under the loose surface dirt one of those nets of tough vines which they had used for cords. He thrust a double handful of this hasty harvest into Shann's hold with a single curt order: ”Twist these together and make as thick a rope as you can!”
Shann twisted, discovering to his pleased surprise that under pressure the vines exuded a sticky purple sap which not only coated his hands, but also acted as an adhesive for the vines themselves so that his task was not nearly as formidable as it had first seemed. With his force ax Thorvald cut down two of the stunted trees and stripped them of branches, wedging the poles into the rocks about the entrance of the hole.
They were working against time, but on Thorvald's part with practiced efficiency. Twice more that cry of the hunter arose from the depths behind them. As the westering sun, almost down now, shone into the valley hollow Thorvald set up the frame of his trap.
”We can't knock it out, any more than we can knock out a Throg. But a beam from a stunner ought to slow it up long enough for this to work.”
Taggi burst out of the gra.s.s, approaching the hole with purpose. And Togi was right at his heels. Both of them stared into that opening, drooling a little, the same eagerness in their pose as they had displayed when hunting. Shann remembered how that first howl of the Throg hound had drawn both animals to the edge of the occupied camp in spite of their marked distaste for its alien masters.
”They're after it too.” He told Thorvald what he had noted on the night of their sortie.
”Maybe they can keep it occupied,” the other commented. ”But we don't want them to actually mix with it; that might be fatal.”
A clamor broke out in the interior pa.s.sage. Taggi snarled, backing away a few steps before he uttered his own war cry.
”Ready!” Thorvald jumped to the net slung from the poles; Shann raised his stunner.
Togi underlined her mate's challenge with a series of snarls rising in volume. There was a tearing, scrambling sound from within. Then Shann fired at the jack-in-the-box appearance of a monstrous head, and Thorvald released the deadfall.
The thing squalled. Ropes beat, growing taut. The wolverines backed from jaws which snapped fruitlessly. To Shann's relief the Terran animals appeared content to bait the now imprisoned--or collared--horror, without venturing to make any close attack.
But he reckoned that too soon. Perhaps the stunner had slowed up the hound's reflexes, for those jaws stilled with a last shattering snap, the toad-lizard mask--a head which was against all nature as the Terrans knew it--was quiet in the strangle leash of the rope, the rest of the body serving as a cork to fill the exit hole. Taggi had been waiting only for such a chance. He sprang, claws ready. And Togi went in after her mate to share the battle.
7. UNWELCOME GUIDE
There was a small eruption of earth and stone as the hound came alive, fighting to reach its tormentors. The resulting din was deafening.
Shann, avoiding by a hand's breadth a snap of jaws with power to crush his leg into bone powder and mangled flesh, cuffed Togi across her nose and buried his hands in the fur about Taggi's throat as he heaved the male wolverine back from the struggling monster. He shouted orders, and to his surprise Togi did obey, leaving him free to yank Taggi away.
Perhaps neither wolverine had expected the full fury of the hound.
Though he suffered a slash across the back of one hand, delivered by the over-excited Taggi, in the end Shann was able to get both animals away from the hole, now corked so effectively by the slavering thing.
Thorvald was actually laughing as he watched his younger companion in action.
”This ought to slow up the beetles! If they haul their little doggie back, it's apt to take out some of its rage on them, and I'd like to see them dig around it.”
Considering that the monstrous head was swinging from side to side in a collar of what seemed to be immovable rocks, Shann thought Thorvald right. He went down on his knees beside the wolverines, soothing them with hand and voice, trying to get them to obey his orders willingly.
”Ha!” Thorvald brought his mud-stained hands together with a clap, the sharp sound attracting the attention of both animals.
Shann scrambled up, swung out his bleeding hand in the simple motion which meant to hunt, being careful to signal down the valley westward.
Taggi gave a last reluctant growl at the hound, to be answered by one of its ear-torturing howls, and then trotted off, Togi tagging behind.
Thorvald caught Shann's slashed hand, inspecting the bleeding cut. From the aid packet at his belt he brought out powder and a strip of protecting plasta-flesh to cleanse and bind the wound.