Once at the top he lay flat and traded his rifle for the macrobinoculars. Below, another canyon spread out before them, rising to a wind-weathered wall of rust and ocher. Advancing the binocs slowly across the canyon floor, he settled unexpectedly on two tethered shapes. Banthas—and riderless! "Did you say something, sir?" wheezed Threepio, struggling up behind Luke. His locomotors were not designed for such outer climbing and scrambling. "Banthas, all right," Luke whispered over his shoulder, not considering in the excitement of the moment that Threepio might not know a Bantha from a panda. He looked back into the eyepieces, refocusing slightly. "Wait…it’s sandpeople, sure. I see one of them." Something dark suddenly blocked his sight. For a moment he thought that a rock might have moved in front of them. Irritably he 0dropped the binoculars and reached out to move the blinding object aside. His hand touched something like soft metal. It was a bandaged leg about as big around as both of Luke’s together. Shocked, he looked up…and up. The towering figure glaring down at him was no jawa. It had seemingly erupted straight from the sand. Threepio took a startled step backward and found no footing. As gyros whined in protest the tall robot tumbled backward down the side of the dune. Frozen in place, Luke heard steadily fading bangs and rattles as Threepio bounced down the steep slope behind him. As the moment of confrontation passed, the Tusken let out a terrifying grunt of fury and pleasure and brought down his heavy gaderffii. The double-edged ax would have cleaved Luke’s skull neatly in two, except that he threw the rifle up in a gesture more instinctive than calculated. His weapon deflected the blow, but would never do so again. Made from cannibalized freighter plating the huge ax shattered the barrel and made metallic confetti of the gun’s delicate insides.