"Perhaps behind this tree, perhaps behind that, perhaps a long
way off. Before morning we shall know."
"What are you going to do?" I inquired savagely.
"Die," he answered.
"Look here, fool," I exclaimed, shaking him, "you can die if you like,
but we don't mean to. Take us to some place where we shall be safe
from this god."
"One is never safe from the god, lord, especially in his own House,"
and he shook his silly head and went on, "How can we be safe when
there is nowhere to go and even the trees are too big to climb?"
I looked at them, it was true. They were huge and ran up for fifty or
sixty feet without a bough. Moreover, it was probable that the god
climbed better than we could. The Kalubi began to move inland in an
indeterminate fashion, and I asked him where he was going.
"To the burying-place," he answered. "There are spears yonder with the
bones."
I pricked up my ears at this--for when one has nothing but some clasp
knives, spears are not to be despised--and ordered him to lead on.
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