Travis had taken a direct through the heights, but not to his nightfall. And he had no wish to enter the tower by moonlight. In him two now warred. There was the to the towers, to their secret, and higher and higher the of a new fear. Was he now a for the of his by the Redax and his modern education in the Pinda-lick-o-yi world—half Apache of the past, modern with a thirst for knowledge? Or was the more and for another reason?

Travis in a hollow, trying to what he felt. Why was it so for him to the towers? If he only had the with him.... Why and where had they gone?

He was alive to every noise out of the night, every the wind to him. The night had its own life, just as the hours theirs. Only a of those he identify, less did he see. There was one wide-winged, thing which passed across the green-gold plate of the nearer moon. It was so large that for an Travis the had come. Then the flapped, the glide, and the in the of the night—a large to be a threat, and one he had before.

Relying on his own small defense, the of along the only approach to the hollow, Travis at intervals, his on his across his knees. But the cold him and he was to see the sky of pre-dawn. He two and a of of water from his and started on.

By he had the of the waterfall, and he along the road at a which to a the closer he to the valley. Deliberately he slowed, his native now in control, so that he was walking as he passed through the into the which alternately and the towers.

There was no in the from the time he had come there with Kaydessa. But now, from a on the yellow-and-green pavement, was a committee—Nalik'ideyu and Naginlta no more at his than if they had only moments before.

Travis on one knee, out his hand to the female, who had always been the more friendly. She a step or two, touched a cold nose to his knuckles, and whined.

"Why?" He that one word, but it was a long list of questions. Why had they left him? Why were they here where there was no hunting? Why did they meet him now as if they had his return?

Travis from the animals to the towers, those set in diamond pattern. And again he was visited by the that he was under observation. With the across those openings, it would be easy for a to watch him unseen.

He walked slowly on into the valley, his making no on the pavement, but he the of the coyotes' as they him, on each hand. The sun did not here, making a of the mist. As he approached of the tower, it to Travis that the was about him; he no longer see the through which he had entered the valley.

"Naye'nezyani—Slayer of Monsters—give to the arm, to the knife wrist!" Out of what long-buried memory did that come? Travis was aware of the of the until he spoke them aloud. "You who wait—shi to-dah ishan—an Apache is not food for you! I am Fox of the Itcatcudnde'yu—the Eagle People; and me walk ga'ns of power...."

Travis and his as one waking. Why had he spoken so, using and phrases which were not part of any modern speech?

He moved on, around the of the tower, to no door, no in its surface the second-story windows—to the next and the next, until he had all three. If he were to enter any, he must a way of the windows.

On he to the other opening of the valley, the one which gave upon the of the Tatar camp. But he did not any of the Mongols as he a sapling, trimmed, and it into a blunt-pointed lance. His sash-belt, into and together, gave him a rope which he would be long for his purpose.

Then Travis a for the window of the nearest tower. On the second try the in, and he gave a quick jerk, the as a across the opening. It was a but the best he improvise. He until the of the window was and he himself up and over.

The was a wide one, at least a twenty-four-inch the and surface of the tower. Travis sat there for a minute, to enter. Near the end of his scarf-rope the two on the pavement, their up, their from their mouths, their ones of interest.

Perhaps it was the of the that the amount of light in the room. The was circular, and directly opposite him was a second window, the of the diamond pattern. He took the four-foot from the to the but in the light as he every of the room. There were no at all, but in the very center a well of darkness. A pillar, faintly, rose from its core. Travis' noted how the light came in small ripples—green and purple, over a of dark blue.

The and it up through a opening in the ceiling, providing the only possible up or down, save for from window to window outside. Travis moved slowly to the well. Underfoot was a surface with a of which in as he walked. Here and there he prints in the dust, which he might possibly have been by the of birds. But there were no other footprints. This tower had been for a long, long time.

He came to the well and looked down. There was dark there, dark in which the of light from the the stronger. But that did not the of the well through which the thick threaded. Even by close he no in the surface of the pillar, nothing hand- or footholds. If it did the purpose of a staircase, there were no treads.

At last Travis put out his hand to touch the surface of the pillar. And then he back—to no effect. There was no his and an unknown material which had the of metal but—and the him queasy—the and very give of flesh!

He all his to free and not. Not only did that him, but his other hand and arm were being to join the first! Inside Travis full force, and he his head, a of panic as wild as that of a beast.

An later, his left was as tight a as his right. And with hands so held, his whole was forward, off the safe of the floor, tight to the pillar.

In this position he was into the well. And while unable to free himself from the pillar, he did along its length easily enough. Travis his in an against this of capture, and a ran through his as he to descend.

After the had the Apache that he was not at all. Had the been of vertical, he would have its speed that of a walk. He passed through two more room enclosures; he must already be the level of the outside. And he was still a of the pillar, now in total darkness.

His came against a level surface, and he he must have the end. Again he back, his in a final attempt at escape, and away as he was released.

He came up against a and there panting. The light, which might have come from the but which more a part of the very air, was to that he was in a into dark right and left.

Travis took two to the pillar, his once again to its surface, with no result. This time his did not and there was no possible way for him to climb that pole. He only that at some point the would give him to the surface. But which way to go—?

At last he the right-hand path and started along it, every steps to listen. But there was no the soft of his own feet. The air was fresh enough, and he he a toward him from some point ahead—perhaps an exit.

Instead, he came into a room and a small of was out of him. The were blank, with the same of blue-purple-green light which the pillar. Just him was a table and it a bench, from the native yellow-red rock. And there was no the in which he now stood.

Travis walked to the bench. Immovable, it was so that sat there must the opposite of the with the table him. And on the table was an object Travis from his in the star ship, one of the reader-viewers through which the had learned what little they of the older civilization.

A reader—and it a box of tapes. Travis touched the of that box gingerly, it to into nothingness. This was a place long deserted. Stone table, bench, the towers through centuries of abandonment, but these other objects....

The of the reader was under the of dust; there was less here than had been in the upper tower chamber. Hardly why, Travis one leg over the bench and sat the table, the reader him, the box of just his hand.

He the and then looked away hurriedly. The colors at his eyes. He had a that if he that and too long, he would be in some of just as the Reds' machine had and the Tatars. He his attention to the reader. It was, he believed, much like the one they had used on the ship.

This room, table, bench, had all been designed with a set purpose. And that purpose—Travis' rested on the box of he not yet himself to open—that purpose was to use the reader, he would to that. Tapes so left must have had a great for those who left them. It was as if the whole was a to a into this chamber.

Travis open the box, the into the reader, and his to the at its apex.

The looked just the same when he looked up once more, but the in his told Travis that time had passed—perhaps hours of minutes—since he had taken out the disk. He his hands over his and to think clearly. There had been of meaningless symbol writing, but also there had been many clear, three-dimensional pictures, by a in an tongue, out of thin air. He had been with and of information, to be only by guesses, and some wild guesses, too. But this much he did know—these towers had been by the spacemen, and they were to that civilization. The in this room, as as it had been for him, to a on Topaz than he had dreamed.

Travis on the bench. To know so much and yet so little! If Ashe were only here, or some other of the project technicians! A such as Pandora's box had been, for one who opened it and did not understand. The Apache the three of blue-purple-green in turn and with new attention. There were through those walls; he was sure he at least one of them. But not now—certainly not now!

And there was another thing he knew: The Reds must not this. Such a on their part would not only the end of his own people on Topaz, but the end of Terra as well. This be a new and Black Death spread to whole nations at a time!

If he could—much as his archaeologist's would argue against it—he would out this whole above and ground. But while the Reds might a means of such destruction, the Apaches did not. No, he and his people must prevent its by the enemy by doing what he had as necessary from the first—wiping out the Red leaders! And that must be done they upon the towers!

Travis stiffly. His ached, his with pictures, hints, speculations. He wanted to out, into the open air where the clean of the would some of this knowledge from his mind. He the corridor, puzzled now by the problem of to the window level.

Here, him, was the pillar. Without hope, but still some instinct, Travis again set his hands to its surface. There was a at his arms; once more his was to the pillar. This time he was rising!

He his past the level and then relaxed. The of this of was his understanding, but as long as it in he didn't to out. He the chamber, but the had left it; instead, the clean cut of moon on the floor. He must have been hours in that place.

Travis away from the of the pillar. The of his was still across the window and he ran for it. To catch the party at the pass he must hurry. The report they would make to the now had to be in the of his new discoveries. The Apaches not and from the fight, the Reds to use what here.

As he the he looked about for the coyotes. Then he the mind call. But as as they had met him in the valley, so now were they gone again. And Travis had no time to for them. With a sigh, he his to the pass.

In the old days, Travis remembered, Apache had been able to forty-five or fifty miles a day on and over territory. But his modern had him. He had been so sure he catch up the others were through the pass. But he now in the where they had camped, read the of and left for him, and they would the and report the Deklay and the others wanted he them off.

Travis on. He was so now that only the from the he mouthed at him going at a pace, more than a walk. And always his mind was by of pictures, pictures he had in the reader. The big bomb had been the of his own world for so long, and what was that against the the star had been able to command?

He a and slept. There was about him as he to on. What day was this? How long had he sat in the tower chamber? He was not sure of time any more. He only that he must the rancheria, tell his story, somehow win over Deklay and the other to prove the for the north in force.

A point which was a familiar came into focus. He on, his heaving, his through parched, sun-cracked lips. He did not know that his was now a of resolution.

"Hahhhhhh—"