“He must be thirsty,” said Pounder; “let us bring water and give him a drink.”
So saying he went to a pool, and, filling a gourd, poured water on the fire, which had become low from lack of fuel. The fire immediately went out, to the surprise of all.
“He hates water and has run into his hole,” said Pounder.
“Let us dig him out,” said Koree, who thought he was a kind of woodchuck that could be easily unearthed.
On examination, however, they found no hole into which he could have crawled, and so gave up digging.
“He will come out of a volcano soon,” said Fire-tamer, “and I shall watch for him in the mountains.”
Gimbo was profoundly thankful, however, that he was gone. He had worshipped him as a god out of fear; but now that water destroyed him, he worshipped the water instead, as a greater spirit, and he was nearly converted to the religion of the Lali, who had great faith in the power of water, and especially of the water of the great Swamp, in which the winged Alligator dwelt.
As evening came, however, with its dampness, they again suffered, and doubt came with their discomforts, and they slept uncertain whether fire should be the companion of their lives.
And the night was full of stars and Gimbo of fleas, and as they passed each other on the way of time the problems of life were unfolding to reason.