All the Salariki were young and the parties babbled together in
excitement. It was plain that this hunt, staged upon a large scale, was
not only a means of revenge upon a hated enemy but, also, a sporting
event of outstanding prestige.
Now the grass trees began to show ragged gaps, open spaces between their
clumps, until the forest was only scattered groups and the party the
Terrans had joined walked along a trail cloaked in knee-high, yellow-red
fern growth. Most of the Salariki carried unlit torches, some having four
or five bundled together, as if gorp hunting must be done after
nightfall. And it _was_ fairly late in the afternoon before they topped a
rise of ground and looked out upon one of Sargol's seas.
The water was a dull-metallic gray, broken by great swaths of purple as
if an artist had slapped a brush of color across it in a hit or miss
fashion. Sand of the red grit, lightened by the golden flecks which
glittered in the sun, stretched to the edge of the wavelets breaking with
only languor on the curve of earth. The bulk of islands arose in serried
ranks farther out--crowned with grass trees all rippling under the sea
wind.
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