At a certain place she parted the thatch and put her hand into it with a little rustling that Sunni thought might be heard in the very heart of the palace.

Then she drew out a small, tight sewn, oilskin bag, that had taken the shape of the book inside it, groped across the hut again, and gave it to Sunni.

The boy's hand trembled as he took it, and without a word he slipped into the darkness outside.
Then he stopped short and went back.

'Great thanks to you, Tooni-ji,' he said softly into the darkness of the hut.

'When I find my own country I will come back and take you there too.