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 “Let us not fight,” continued Thandar. “We are alone upon the island. I have seen no other than you since the Great Nagoola came forth and destroyed the people. Let us be friends, hunting together in peace. Otherwise one of us must kill the other and thereafter live always alone until death releases him from his terrible solitude.”

Roof peered over Thandar’s shoulder toward the wood behind him.

“Are you alone?” he asked.

“Yes—have I not told you that all were killed but you and I?”

“All were not killed,” replied Roof. “But I will be friends with Thandar. We will hunt together and cave together. Roof and Thandar are brothers.”

He stooped, and gathering a handful of grass advanced toward the American. Thandar did likewise, and when each had taken the peace offering of the other and rubbed it upon his forehead the ceremony of friendship was complete—simple but none the less effectual, for each knew that the other would rather die than disregard the primitive pact.

“You said that all were not killed, Roof,” said Thandar, the ceremony over. “What do you mean?”

“All were not killed by the Great Nagoola,” replied the bad man. “Thurg was not killed, nor