The riot of moving figures suddenly resolved itself into a kind of pattern. One taller than his fellows stood on the beast’s head and with his axe made menacing circles in the air. He uttered a strident cry, and disorder was quelled. The beast had been already partially dismembered; and now, with much pushing and pulling, the remaining bulk of him was set in motion. Seeing himself frustrated of food Ogo acted quickly. He began crawling backwards, and continued so, his toes clutching into the soft soil, until he judged it safe to turn and make for a point at which, if he were cunning enough, he might intercept the tail of the procession. It was too much to hope that any scraps would have been left lying on the ground. Having changed direction he ran with all speed, stopped and listened, ran again, stopped and listened. Yes, he had struck their path. The main party was moving away from him, this way; the last stragglers were approaching him, that way. He knew them, the bad hunters, the greedy ones, eager to fill their own bellies at the tribe’s expense. Foreign though they were, he counted, without thought, on their resembling his own people in this. So sure were his senses that he knew within a yard where they would pass him, and seeing a tree whose foliage overhung the spot went up it like a monkey and poised himself expectantly upon a sleek slim branch, clinging with his toes alone. The stranger came nearer, nearer; slowly and with frequent halts and gnawing at the large lump of boar’s flesh he carried in his arms. There were others in his wake, and these others would be either more or less richly laden than he. As to that, Ogo dared spend no time in conjecture. He could smell the meat; he could see the man; he pounced fiercely. The stranger staggered and fell, with Ogo’s fingers clutching his neck, and Ogo’s knees fastened on his back. He uttered one piercing yell of astonishment and then was silent, wriggling and rolling on the ground. He raised himself on one arm, pawed at the ground, once, twice, three times, and was on his feet again. Ogo clung like a cat. In a frenzy the strange man fixing himself backwards, and Ogo, still clinging, fell with him. First his buttocks struck the ground, then his head; all the breath seemed to rush out of him in one gasp. His grip relaxed. But with the first movement of his enemy, the first beginning of a lightning-swift movement, he slid from under him, dodged a blow, felt for and found his axe, and struck. Between aiming and striking—one action—he caught his first glimpse of his enemy’s face, long, large-eyed, hairy, smeared richly with the blood of that interrupted feast. After striking, and seeing the stranger fall loosely and lie still, he took no second glance but at once began searching for the spoil, his ears still intent for any sound of approach. The moon was not yet risen who sends long shafts and broad patches of brightness but makes shadows blacker. The world was dusky and quiet. But for his hunger Ogo would have been mastered by fear of the creeping presences about him; would have longed for light as he now longed for meat. All his being was gathered up and projected into this search, except that while he crawled and peered and touched, his mind filled with craving, his quick animal senses watched over him like sentries. The surrounding forest flowed into him in a series of smells and noises having each its own meaning. When he had found his meat, and set his teeth into it with savage lust, he realized suddenly the significance of his victory, remembering that he had killed a man. He had killed a man, and the demon of that man was now with him in this dark forest. So began another search; for he did not at once recall where the dead body lay. He proceeded with infinite caution, shuddering with fear. It was necessary above all things that he should not come into physical contact with the body: the dead are taboo, and the taboo is contagious. Yet he must find it without delay, and by prayers and offerings placate the demon. His eyes were accustomed to the darkness, and a star or two came to light him, and to shew him a huddled corpse with shattered skull, staring eyes, and blood-besmeared agonized face. The mouth was open. The attitude accused him. Ogo went down on his knees and rocked himself to and fro with wailing lamentation. ‘Noble stranger, forgive me. You were my enemy, but now you are my friend. See how I kneel and acknowledge you my friend. Do not be angry with me. I will do penance; I will serve you; you shall have the best of my meat.’ With the flint of his axe he hacked off a choice morsel and thrust it reverently into the open mouth of the corpse. ‘Let us be enemies no longer, O mighty one.’