Otherwise they moved through a deserted world. The stream bed widened
and small islands of gravel, swept together in untidy piles by the
spring floods, arose dry topped, some already showing the green of
venturesome plants.
"Here--" Sssuri stopped, thrusting the butt of his spear into the
shore of one such islet. He dropped cross-legged on his choice, there
to remain patiently until those he sought would come with the dark.
Dalgard withdrew a little way downstream and took up a similar post.
The runners were shy, not easy to approach. And they would come more
readily if Sssuri were alone.
Here the murmur of the stream was loud, rising above the rustle of the
wind-driven grass. And the night was coming fast as the sun, hidden by
the cliff wall, sank into the sea. Dalgard, knowing that his night
sight was far inferior to that of the native Astran fauna, resignedly
settled himself for an all-night stay, not without a second regretful
memory of the snug camp by the shore.
Twilight and then night. How long before the runners would make their
appearance? He could pick up the sparks of thought which marked the
coming and going of hoppers, most hurrying off to their mud-plastered
nests, and sometimes a flicker from the mind of some other night
creature.
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