Ay, Umslopogaas, a man might sit in it, might he not?
And there a man sat, or that which had been a man.

There sat the bones of a man, and the black skin had withered on his bones, holding them together, and making him awful to see.

His hands were open beside him, he leaned upon them, and in the right hand was a piece of hide from his moocha.

It was half eaten, Umslopogaas; he had eaten it before he died.
His eyes also were bound round with a band of leather, as though to hide something from their gaze, one foot was gone, one hung over the edge of the niche towards the floor, and beneath it on the floor, red with rust, lay the blade of a broken spear.
"Now come hither, Umslopogaas, place your hand upon the wall of the cave, just here; it is smooth, is it not ?--smooth as the stones on which women grind their corn.

'What made it so smooth ?' you ask.