Taking off my hat I thrust my head forward between two loose stones, that I might hear the better.
The men were talking together in Sisutu.

One, whom I took to be their captain, said to the others-- "That white-headed old jackal, Macumazahn, has given us the slip again.

He doubled on his tracks and drove the horses down the hillside to the lower path in the valley.

I could feel where the wheels went over the edge." "It is so, Father," answered another voice, "but we shall catch him and the others at the bottom if we get there before the moon rises, since they cannot have moved far in this rain and darkness.

Let me go first and guide you who know every tree and stone upon this slope where I used to herd cattle when I was a child." "Do so," said the captain.