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“
You
must
gauge
the
approaching
maker
carefully
,
”
Stilgar
had
explained
.
“
You
must
stand
close
enough
that
you
can
mount
it
as
it
passes
,
yet
not
so
close
that
it
engulfs
you
.
”
With
abrupt
decision
,
Paul
released
the
thumper
’
s
latch
.
The
clapper
began
revolving
and
the
summons
drummed
through
the
sand
,
a
measured
“
lump
.
.
.
lump
.
.
.
lump
.
.
.
.
”
He
straightened
,
scanning
the
horizon
,
remembering
Stilgar
’
s
words
:
“
Judge
the
line
of
approach
carefully
.
Remember
,
a
worm
seldom
makes
an
unseen
approach
to
a
thumper
.
Listen
all
the
same
.
You
may
often
hear
it
before
you
see
it
.
”
And
Chani
’
s
words
of
caution
,
whispered
at
night
when
her
fear
for
him
overcame
her
,
filled
his
mind
:
“
When
you
take
your
stand
along
the
maker
’
s
path
,
you
must
remain
utterly
still
.
You
must
think
like
a
patch
of
sand
.
Hide
beneath
your
cloak
and
become
a
little
dune
in
your
very
essence
.
”
Slowly
,
he
scanned
the
horizon
,
listening
,
watching
for
the
signs
he
had
been
taught
.
It
came
from
the
southeast
,
a
distant
hissing
,
a
sand
-
whisper
.
Presently
he
saw
the
faraway
outline
of
the
creature
’
s
track
against
the
dawnlight
and
realized
he
had
never
before
seen
a
maker
this
large
,
never
heard
of
one
this
size
.
It
appeared
to
be
more
than
half
a
league
long
,
and
the
rise
of
the
sandwave
at
its
cresting
head
was
like
the
approach
of
a
mountain
.
This
is
nothing
I
have
seen
by
vision
or
in
life
,
Paul
cautioned
himself
.
He
hurried
across
the
path
of
the
thing
to
take
his
stand
,
caught
up
entirely
by
the
rushing
needs
of
this
moment
.
*
*
*
