Kesley dug in his spurs and the horse leaped forward. The bandits bore down on them as the two men rode in opposite directions. And, to Kesley's horror, he saw the bandit group splitting in two.

Instantly, van Alen doubled back and beckoned to Kesley to do the same. If the bandits had detected the maneuver and were sweeping off to intercept them, there was nothing gained by dividing. They stood a better chance back-to-back.

Together, then, they struck out along a side-path toward a thick copse. Kesley's hand slipped down from the bridle to feel the comforting hilt of his knife at his waist. He glanced at van Alen, and saw that the Antarctican's blaster gleamed dully, ready for use, in the man's hand.

The eight bandits drew up in a tight phalanx facing the copse. They were swarthy, dark-skinned men with heavy mustaches.

"Off your horse," van Alen whispered.

Kesley slipped to the ground and began to tether the mutant to a low-hanging branch.

"No," the Antarctican said harshly. "Let the animals roam free. Their noise will confuse the bandits."

"Right."

He released his grip on the reins and slapped the beast affectionately. The swaybacked mutant began to amble off into the depths of the copse, crashing down on fallen branches as it went. Van Alen's horse struck out in another direction. Kesley grinned suddenly; the sight of his clumsy old horse thrashing away into the darkness was utterly ludicrous.

Then Kesley glanced back at van Alen. The Antarctican was kneeling in a soft mossbank, aiming his blaster.

He squeezed the firing stud. A bright beam of light licked out. The horse of the leading bandit whinnied and looked down in amazement at the pastern that was no longer there, and then toppled, dropping its rider.

Van Alen fired again and a second horse went down. At that the bandits scattered. The two men on foot hit the ground; the other six rode off around the copse.

A loud report sounded from the left, followed by an agonized neigh of pain. Kesley stiffened. They shot my horse, he thought. For some reason, hot tears of rage came to his eyes. The awkward-looking mutant horse had been a good friend for four years. Kesley felt as if his last bond with Iowa Province had just 

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