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. Every
once in a while the route crossed the stream on a crude but
sturdy log bridge.
It was as he approached another of these bridges, where
the stream had dropped through a deep chute some fifty
feet below, that his long pursuit reached its climax. A trio
of tall, straight pine logs had been lashed together to form a
crossing. Horgan's instincts tingled, his senses heightened.
The dwarf saw footsteps leading to one side of the
path, before the bridge. Turning to investigate, he peered
between a pair of sharp boulders. The trail of the ogre led
to the mouth of a narrow cave, less than a hundred feet
away, and disappeared within.
Shrewd, thought Horgan Oxthrall, studying the
shadowed niche. The vertical slash in the rock stood
perhaps nine or ten feet high, but only half that in width.
The ogre might lurk anywhere inside, perhaps armed with a
crossbow or spear. Either weapon, hurled at the dwarf,
could end the fight before it began.
Then, to his surprise, Horgan saw movement within
the cave. A dark form loomed in the entrance. Tension
surged through Horgan's body. His right hand clenched the
smooth shaft of his axe, while his left reached behind to
pull his shield from his back
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