Then he went softly around within the house, hunting for any possible hiding-place where the enemy he dreaded might be concealed.
"Comale," said his mother, "what are you doing ?" And Comale did not dare to hunt any more.
He was dreadfully miserable as he lay that night in the darkness.

He could not sleep.

He listened for any outcry.

To think that he might have let an enemy into his own home! Comale rose upon his elbow to listen.

The walls of Cingalese houses are not carried up to the roof, and, because of this, an outcry or conversation in one room can be heard all over the house.