Farrington said. "Horses don't have antlers-the things on their heads. These are some kind of moose. Or caribou, or elk. I don't remember the exact differences, but that's what these are."
"Dangerous?" Roy Veeder asked.
Chet shrugged. "I suppose they could be if we get them angry. Looks mostly like they're grazing on the ice. They aren't flesh-eaters."
" Grazing ?" Jim asked. "On what?"
"Algae," Chet explained. "You studied hydroponics. You ought to know about algae."
"Sure," Jim said. "Microscopic plants. But living on the ice?"
"They're adapted to the cold. The moose lick them up. It's probably a full day's work for a moose to lick up enough algae to keep himself alive."
The creatures were grotesque, Jim thought. They were inhabitants of another world, the world of the glacier. He gripped the binoculars tightly, fascinated and repelled at the same time by the thick wooly fur, by the spindly legs with the wicked-looking hoofs, by the intricate convolutions sprouting from their heads. What was the word Chet had used? Antlers?
His nostrils, sensitive in the pure air, brought the smell of the beasts to him: rank, sickening.
"The wind's blowing toward us," Chet said. "They don't smell us yet, and I guess they can't see us. But we'd better get our power torches ready. If they panic and run toward us, we might get trampled."
Ted Callison, who had been scanning the horizon, pointed suddenly toward the south.
"Here come some more of them!" he cried.
Everyone swung around to look. Jim saw only a dark line against the snow at first, but then the image resolved itself into…
"Those aren't animals coming now," Dr. Barnes said. "They're men. Hunters!"
5
NOMADS OF THE ICE WORLD
There were at least two dozen of them, stalking the animals. They were still half a mile or more away, but coming on steadily, a straggling line of club-wielding men.
"Savages," Dr. Barnes said quietly. "Nomads of the ice."
"Will they make trouble for us, Dad?"
"I don't know," the older man said. "Keep the power torches handy, just in case."
The advancing hunters, though, showed no interest yet in the eight strangers to their territory. All their attention was concentrated on the roaming band of grazing beasts. Jim stared through his field glasses until his eyes throbbed with pain.
They were close enough to be seen in detail now. The hunters were short, brutish-looking men, squat and bulky, clad in animal skins and high leather leggings. Unkempt black hair tumbled to their shoulders. Some carried thick clubs, which Jim saw were fashioned not of wood but of the bones of some huge animal; others were armed with bows and arrows.
Keeping downwind of the grazers, the nomads began to fan out into a wide half-circle, surrounding them. Now and then one of the savages threw a curious look at the newcomers, but they kept their heads turned toward the animals.
The biggest, most majestic of the moose lifted his ponderous head. He had scented something! He pawed uneasily at the ice with his hoofs, took a few steps, turned to peer out of obviously shortsighted eyes at the attackers slowly creeping up on his band. The nomads were less than a hundred yards away now, and Jim was able at last to judge the true size of the beasts. They were enormous, seven and eight feet high at the shoulders.
One of the hunters was nocking an arrow. Thick muscles rippled and bulged as the string was drawn back. He let the arrow fly!
Straight on target it went, embedding itself in the throat of the lead moose! The superb creature reared and whirled, hurt but apparently not seriously crippled by the flimsy-looking shaft. The other animals began to mill, to grunt in distress as the circle of hunters closed in.
Suddenly the air was thick with arrows.
The moose were panicky, stampeding. Jim gasped as three of them burst through the circle, trampling down two hunters as though they were dolls. The two little men went sprawling. A rivulet of blood spread across the ice as the
"Dangerous?" Roy Veeder asked.
Chet shrugged. "I suppose they could be if we get them angry. Looks mostly like they're grazing on the ice. They aren't flesh-eaters."
" Grazing ?" Jim asked. "On what?"
"Algae," Chet explained. "You studied hydroponics. You ought to know about algae."
"Sure," Jim said. "Microscopic plants. But living on the ice?"
"They're adapted to the cold. The moose lick them up. It's probably a full day's work for a moose to lick up enough algae to keep himself alive."
The creatures were grotesque, Jim thought. They were inhabitants of another world, the world of the glacier. He gripped the binoculars tightly, fascinated and repelled at the same time by the thick wooly fur, by the spindly legs with the wicked-looking hoofs, by the intricate convolutions sprouting from their heads. What was the word Chet had used? Antlers?
His nostrils, sensitive in the pure air, brought the smell of the beasts to him: rank, sickening.
"The wind's blowing toward us," Chet said. "They don't smell us yet, and I guess they can't see us. But we'd better get our power torches ready. If they panic and run toward us, we might get trampled."
Ted Callison, who had been scanning the horizon, pointed suddenly toward the south.
"Here come some more of them!" he cried.
Everyone swung around to look. Jim saw only a dark line against the snow at first, but then the image resolved itself into…
"Those aren't animals coming now," Dr. Barnes said. "They're men. Hunters!"
5
NOMADS OF THE ICE WORLD
There were at least two dozen of them, stalking the animals. They were still half a mile or more away, but coming on steadily, a straggling line of club-wielding men.
"Savages," Dr. Barnes said quietly. "Nomads of the ice."
"Will they make trouble for us, Dad?"
"I don't know," the older man said. "Keep the power torches handy, just in case."
The advancing hunters, though, showed no interest yet in the eight strangers to their territory. All their attention was concentrated on the roaming band of grazing beasts. Jim stared through his field glasses until his eyes throbbed with pain.
They were close enough to be seen in detail now. The hunters were short, brutish-looking men, squat and bulky, clad in animal skins and high leather leggings. Unkempt black hair tumbled to their shoulders. Some carried thick clubs, which Jim saw were fashioned not of wood but of the bones of some huge animal; others were armed with bows and arrows.
Keeping downwind of the grazers, the nomads began to fan out into a wide half-circle, surrounding them. Now and then one of the savages threw a curious look at the newcomers, but they kept their heads turned toward the animals.
The biggest, most majestic of the moose lifted his ponderous head. He had scented something! He pawed uneasily at the ice with his hoofs, took a few steps, turned to peer out of obviously shortsighted eyes at the attackers slowly creeping up on his band. The nomads were less than a hundred yards away now, and Jim was able at last to judge the true size of the beasts. They were enormous, seven and eight feet high at the shoulders.
One of the hunters was nocking an arrow. Thick muscles rippled and bulged as the string was drawn back. He let the arrow fly!
Straight on target it went, embedding itself in the throat of the lead moose! The superb creature reared and whirled, hurt but apparently not seriously crippled by the flimsy-looking shaft. The other animals began to mill, to grunt in distress as the circle of hunters closed in.
Suddenly the air was thick with arrows.
The moose were panicky, stampeding. Jim gasped as three of them burst through the circle, trampling down two hunters as though they were dolls. The two little men went sprawling. A rivulet of blood spread across the ice as the
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