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 mahout's return. It was not long before Akbar emerged from the woods and ran toward me.

"Praise be to our fathers, he is dead!" he shouted. Akbar had come to fear and hate Ulysses.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"May the hyenas eat my grandfather!" said he, solemnly. "You, who know only the truth, remember the rocky bank beyond the hill, which slopes off to destruction? Your servant, Ulysses,