I ran to it--it was Umslopogaas, wasted with hunger, and in his temple was a great wound and on his breast and limbs were many other wounds.

Moreover, in his hand he held another hand--a dead hand, that was thrust through a hole in the rock.

I knew its shape well--it was the little hand of my child, Nada the Lily.
Now I understood, and, bending down, I felt the heart of Umslopogaas, and laid the down of an eagle upon his lips.

His heart still stirred and the down was lifted gently.
I bade those with me drag the stone, and they did so with toil.

Now the light flowed into the cave, and by it we saw the shape of Nada my daughter.