As usual, I thought rapidly.
A rope lay coiled in the bottom of my own craft. Very softly I
gathered it up, and making one end fast to the bronze ring in the
prow I stepped gingerly into the boat beside me. In one hand I
grasped the rope, in the other my keen long-sword.
For a full minute, perhaps, I stood motionless after entering the
strange craft. It had rocked a trifle beneath my weight, but it
had been the scraping of its side against the side of my own boat
that had seemed most likely to alarm its occupants, if there were
any.
But there was no answering sound, and a moment later I had felt
from stem to stern and found the boat deserted.
Groping with my hands along the face of the rocks to which the
craft was moored, I discovered a narrow ledge which I knew must be
the avenue taken by those who had come before me. That they could
be none other than Thurid and his party I was convinced by the size
and build of the boat I had found.
Calling to Woola to follow me I stepped out upon the ledge. The
great, savage brute, agile as a cat, crept after me.
As he passed through the boat that had been occupied by Thurid and
the therns he emitted a single low growl, and when he came beside
me upon the ledge and my hand rested upon his neck I felt his short
mane bristling with anger. I think he sensed telepathically the
recent presence of an enemy, for I had made no effort to impart to
him the nature of our quest or the status of those we tracked.
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