"Ardath Mayhar - Hunters of the Plains" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mayhar Ardath)

and odd, about the odor.

The animal's tail twitched with excitement as it moved forward, nosing for rabbit scent among the
chewed-over grasses. The movement of the legs was right. The angle of the tail was right. The bull
turned back to a new patch of grass, accepting this newcomer at face value.

The dog sniffed and waggled and trotted and paused as it moved past this separate group of
bison. Once it reached the edge of the bunch, it began to angle toward the outlying members of
the herd, edging them toward the west and south. So gently and unobtrusively was this done that
the giant beasts did not realize what was happening as they obeyed their impulse to avoid this
intruder, who gently manipulated them into motion without alarming them.

Those lying down rose as their herd mates moved toward them, and soon some triple handful of
animals was moving slowly along, guided by the persistent and subtle movements of the dog.
When they were well away from the bulk of the herd, separated by a wide reach of grassy swells,
there was a rush of smoke scent and strong, oily stink. Alien cries rose into the air, and small
figures, holding long sticks, came running, yelling, waving, and leaping toward the startled bison.

The bulls snorted, and the cows grouped the calves in the center of their sparse ring. Then the
nerve of the beasts broke, and they stampeded madly in the direction in which they could see no
danger, galloping blindly across the broken country ahead. They could hear only the cries driving
them forward, and no warning came to their dulled senses as they ran.

Their small minds filled with panic, they did not see the edge looming ahead. They did not hear the
bellows of terror as the leaders plunged over into the hidden ravine, and only when those behind
began to fall onto their trapped fellows below did they know what was happening.

But it was too late to stop. Not one of the bison was able to halt its mad plunge into death. When
the last was down, struggling amid a heap of broken and bellowing companions, the dog came
lolloping to the ravine's rim and stared down.



Do-na-ti rose onto his legs and removed the stinking dog hide, for his work was done; he had played the
dog to good effect. But his quarry did not know and could not see how they had been manipulated, for
already the hunters were among them with spears, the beautifully chipped spear points reddening with the
blood of their victims.

Do-na-ti dropped the dog skin over a bush, where it would be safe, and ran along the ravine to a path
leading downward. His uncle came out of the draw, holding his arm close against his side, and the young
man stopped to help him along.

"A bull turned his head and caught my arm against the horns of the one beneath him. I think the bone is
broken, Nephew," he said. "Take my spear and go to help your kinsmen."
Do-na-ti took the spear from Ke-len-ne's hand and helped the older man to find a place to wait beneath
another bush. Then he turned toward the bellowing, thrashing, blood-stinking tangle that was the
slaughter pen. The wild odor filled his nostrils, and excitement tingled in his heart.

He plunged toward the mess ahead, avoiding hunters who were busy with their own prey while he
looked for a suitable kill. A young cow, eyes rolled back, elongated horns glinting in the sun, which was