It is the
rule: _use bullets only to save life, where a spear will not serve_."
Kalvar Dard nodded. "You did right, son," he said, taking out his own
pistol and removing the magazine, from which he extracted two
cartridges. "Load these into your pistol; four rounds aren't enough. Now
we each have six. Go back to the rear, keep the little ones moving, and
don't let Varnis get behind."
"That is right. _We must all look out for Varnis, and take care of
her_," the boy recited obediently. "That is the rule."
He dropped to the rear. Kalvar Dard holstered his pistol and picked up
his axe, and the column moved forward again. They were following a
ledge, now; on the left, there was a sheer drop of several hundred feet,
and on the right a cliff rose above them, growing higher and steeper as
the trail slanted upward. Dard was worried about the ledge; if it came
to an end, they would all be trapped. No one would escape. He suddenly
felt old and unutterably weary. It was a frightful weight that he
bore--responsibility for an entire race.
* * * * *
Suddenly, behind him, Dorita fired her pistol upward. Dard sprang
forward--there was no room for him to jump aside--and drew his pistol.
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