Dane believed that the elder man was tiring, and the youngster must have
shared that opinion. There was a leap to the right, a sudden flurry of
dart and retreat, and then a net curled high and fell, enfolding flailing
arms and kicking legs. When the clutch rope was jerked tight, the
captured youth was thrown off balance. He rolled frenziedly, but there
was no escaping the imprisoning strands.
A shout applauded the victor. He stood now above his captive who lay
supine, his throat or breast ready for either stroke of the knife his
captor wished to deliver. But it appeared that the winner was not minded
to end the encounter with blood. Instead he reached out a long, befurred
arm, took up a filled goblet from the table and with serious
deliberation, poured its contents onto the upturned face of the loser.
For a moment there was a dead silence around the feast board and then a
second roar, to which the honestly relieved Terrans added spurts of
laughter. The sputtering youth was shaken free of the net and went down
on his knees, tendering his opponent his knife, which the other thrust
along with his own into his sash belt.
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