Rifles that fire seven times without
taking butt from shoulder!" He invoked the name of the Great Lord
Safar again.
The trail widened and leveled; they all came up abreast, with the
pack-horses strung out behind, and sat looking across the valley to
the adobe walls of the town that perched on the opposite ridge. After
a while, riders began dismounting and checking and tightening
saddle-girths; a couple of Caleras helped Ganadara and Atarazola
inspect their pack-horses. When they remounted, Atarazola bowed his
head, lifting his left sleeve to cover his mouth, and muttered into it
at some length. The Caleras looked at him curiously, and
Coru-hin-Irigod inquired of Ganadara what he did.
"He prays," Ganadara said. "He thanks our gods that we have lived to
see your town, and asks that we be spared to bring many more trains of
rifles and ammunition up this trail."
The slaver nodded understandingly. The Caleras were a pious people,
too, who believed in keeping on friendly terms with the gods.
"May Safar's hand work with the hands of your gods for it," he said,
making what, to a non-Calera, would have been an extremely ribald
sign.
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