Spearman teased the fat man with waiting and chuckled and nodded at
the asonis carcass. "Tied to one of the hoofs. Don't look so worried,
Doc--I waded plenty of streams on the way back." He rose with heavy
grace and strolled out on the bridge. "Come a minute, some of you."
Paul joined him; Wright stayed as he was; Sears was examining the
kaksma's gray, thick-tailed body, holding back its pinkish lip. Paul
caught a repellent glimpse of the jutting upper canines; the molars
were shearing tools like a cat's. He saw the spade claws of the
forefeet. The jet eyes were like a mole's. "Look," Spearman said, "the
hills. Notice that hogback at the southern end--it's five miles long.
Riddled with burrows. They must live on small game on the meadow below
and hunt the other side of the hills too, where it's jungle." His
fingers dug at Paul's shoulder. He spoke loudly enough to be heard by
all: "Listen: the earth at the burrows is red ocher. Understand?
Hematite."