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the middle of the stream; then he picked up the cornucopia in one hand, the stone in the other, and ran
toward the stream. Behind him, the girl screamed. Wolff cursed because it gave the gworl notice that he
was coming.
The gworl paused, the water up to its waist, yelled at Wolff and brandished the knife. Wolff reserved his
breath, for he did not want to waste his wind. He sped toward the edge of the water, while the gworl
resumed his progress to the same bank. The gworl on the opposite edge had frozen at Wolff's
appearance; now he had plunged into the stream to help the other. This action fell in with Wolff's plans.
He only hoped that he could deal with the first before the second reached the middle.
The nearest gworl flipped his knife; Wolff lifted the cornucopia before him. The knife thudded into its thin
but tough shell with a force that almost tore it from his grasp. The gworl began to draw another knife
from its scabbard. Wolff did not stop to pull the first knife from the cornucopia; he kept on running. Just
as the gworl raised the knife to slash at Wolff,
Wolff dropped the stone, lifted the great bell-shape high, and slammed it over the gworl.
A muffled squawk came from within the shell. The cornucopia tilted over, the gworl with it, and both
began floating downstream. Wolff ran into the water, picked up the stone, and grabbed the gworl by one
of its thrashing feet. He took a hurried glance at the other and saw it was raising its knife for a throw.
Wolff grabbed the handle of the knife that was sticking in the shell, tore it out, and then threw himself
down behind the shelter of the bell-shape. He was forced to release his hold on the gworl's hairy foot,
but he escaped the knife. It flew over the rim of the shell and buried itself to the hilt in the mud of the
bank.
At the same time, the gworl within the cornucopia slid out, sputtering. Wolff stabbed at its side; the knife
slid off one of the cartilaginous bumps. The gworl screamed and turned toward him. Wolff rose and
thrust with all his strength at its belly. The knife went in to the hilt. The gworl grabbed at it; Wolff stepped
back; the gworl fell into the water. The cornucopia floated away, leaving Wolff exposed, the knife gone,
and only the stone in his hand. The remaining gworl was advancing on him, holding its knife across its
breast. Evidently it did not intend to try for a second throw. It meant to close in on Wolff.
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Wolff forced himself to delay until the thing was only ten feet from him. Meanwhile, he crouched down
so that the water came to his chest and hid the stone, which he had shifted from his left to his right hand.
Now he could see the gworl's face clearly. It had a very low forehead, a double ridge of bone
above the eyes, thick mossy eyebrows, close-set lemon-yellow eyes, a flat, single-nostriled nose, thin
black animal lips, a prognathous jaw which curved far out and gave the mouth a froglike appearance, no
chin, and the sharp, widely separated teeth of a carnivore. The head, face, and body were covered with
long, thick, dark fur. The neck was very thick, and the shoulders were stooped. Its wet fur stank like
rotten fungus-diseased fruit.
Wolff was scared at the thing's hideousness, but he held his ground. If he broke and ran, he would go
down with a knife in his back.
When the gworl, alternately hissing and rasping in its ugly speech, had come within six feet, Wolff stood
up He raised his stone, and the gworl, seeing his intention, raised his knife to throw it. The stone flew
straight and thudded into a bump on the forehead. The creature staggered backward, dropped the knife,
and fell on its back in the water. Wolff waded toward it, groped in the water for the stone, found it, and
came up from the water in time to face the gworl. Although it had a dazed expression and its eyes were
slightly crossed, it was not out of the fight. And it held another knife.
Wolff raised the stone high and brought it down on top of the skull. There was a loud crack. The gworl
fell back again, disappearing in the water, and appeared several yards away floating on its face.
Reaction took him. His heart was hammering so hard he thought it would rupture, he was shaking all
over, and he was sick. But he remembered the knife stuck in the mud and retrieved it.
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