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. But we always fight by clans and tribes."
"What the devil has that got to do with those sticks?" she demanded.
"You wait and see."
Gathering the sticks in a compact bundle, he wedged his poniard hilt between them at one end. Then with the vines he bound them together and, when he had completed his task, he had a spear of no small strength, with a sturdy shaft seven feet in length.
"What good will that do?" she demanded. "You told me that a blade couldn't pierce his scales--"
"He hasn't got scales all over him," answered Conan. "There's more than one way of skinning a panther."
Moving down to the edge of the leaves, he reached the spear up and carefully thrust the blade through one of the Apples of Derketa, drawing aside to avoid the darkly purple drops that dripped from the pierced fruit. Presently he withdrew the blade and showed her the blue steel stained a dull purplish crimson.
"I don't know whether it will do the job or not," quoth he. "There's enough poison there to kill an elephant, but -- well, we'll see."
Valeria was close behind him as he let himself down among the leaves. Cautiously holding the poisoned pike away from him, he thrust his head through the branches and addressed the monster.
"What are you waiting down there for, you misbegotten offspring of questionable parents?" was one of his more printable queries. "Stick your ugly head up here again, you long-necked brute -- or do you want me to come down there and kick you loose from your illegitimate spine?"
There was more of it -- some of it crouched in eloquence that made Valeria stare, in spite of her profane education among the seafarers
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