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the setting sun. It was as if they were under some kind of spell.
    â€˜What they doing?’ whispered Hubba.
    â€˜Search me,’ said Iggy. ‘Waiting for something.’
    The fire in the middle of the camp had been built up higher, sending smoke and sparks swirling into the sky. Close by sat a large earthen pot, ready to cook. Snark hung upside down, bound by his arms and legs to a wooden pole resting across two uprights. He was stripped to the waist and basted in nut oil to improve his flavour. Even from this distance Iggy could tell he was terrified.

    He calculated the odds. They weren’t good. Two Urks against one hundred Henna warriors (if you counted the hairier women). If he was lucky, he might pick off one or two with his arrows, but that wouldn’t change the outcome.
    The sun was setting. A long loud blast on a mammoth horn split the air. It echoed off the mountains and had a startling effect. The Henna fell on their faces as if struck by a thunderbolt, bowing low with their noses in the dust.
    â€˜They’re worshipping!’ said Iggy. ‘Come on!’
    â€˜Where we going?’
    â€˜To rescue Snark!’
    They scrambled and slid down the mountain, stirring up clouds of dust. If any of the Henna had looked round, they would surely have spotted them, but fortunately the tribe seemed to be lost in a trance.
    Reaching the edge of the camp, Iggy stole closer to the fire, keeping to the shadows. He prayed that the sun would take its time setting. Reaching Snark, he began to loosen the leather knots tying his wrists.
    â€˜No! Please!’ whimpered Snark.
    â€˜It’s me, you fool!’ hissed Iggy.
    Snark twisted his head round to look at him. Hanging upside down, he looked even uglier than usual. His face had gone bright pink and was running with sweat.
    â€˜Where has you been?’ he moaned. ‘Get me down!’
    â€˜I’m trying!’ said Iggy. ‘They’re granny knots!’
    He tugged at the leather cords feverishly. The sun was now little more than a thin red blot on the horizon. In a few minutes it would be gone altogether.
    â€˜Hurry up!’ muttered Hubba.
    Snark groaned. ‘For Urk’s sake! Use your axe!’
    â€˜I don’t have an axe!’ snapped Iggy.
    At last he had one of the knots undone – but this didn’t improve matters much. Snark swung by his feet, cracking his head on the ground.
    â€˜OWW!’
    â€˜Shut up! They’ll hear!’
    â€˜IGGY!’ moaned Hubba, his voice rising in panic.
    â€˜I’m trying!’
    â€˜No, Iggy . . . LOOK!’
    Iggy glanced up, sensing something was wrong. The air had turned colder and a terrible silence had fallen. The Henna were no longer bowed in the dust, they were eyeing them like hungry wolves that have just spotted two rabbits hopping into view. Chief Karratop took a step towards the fire and pulled a dagger from his belt.
    Iggy glanced at Hubba. ‘Do something!’ he whispered.
    â€˜Me?’
    â€˜Yes! Distract them any way you can. I’ve got a plan.’
    Hubba swallowed – his mind was a blank. The Henna were closing in slowly, certain that this time their enemies had nowhere to run. There was only one thing he could do. Hubba looked down and found three small rocks in the dust.
    â€˜Hey! Watch this!’ he cried.
    He tossed one rock high into the air, followed by a second and a third. The rocks flew round, higher and higher in a blur of speed.
    â€˜OOOOOOOH!’ gasped the Henna. They had never seen juggling before.
    Beads of sweat ran down Hubba’s face. He’d never performed in front of an audience, and certainly not one that wanted to eat him. He tried not to think about what Iggy was doing by the fire or what would happen if he dropped the rocks. All he had to do was concentrate and . . .
    DUNK!
    A rock hit him on the head and bounced off. He lost his rhythm and fumbled the other two. The spell was broken. The