They sat down and began to blow the food to cool it, whereupon the people cried out in dismay: “Hold! Hold, ye heedless strangers; do not waste precious food like that! For shame!”
“Waste food? Ha! This is the way we eat!” said they, and clutching up huge morsels they crammed their mouths full and bolted them almost whole.
The people were so horrified and sickened at sight of this, that some of them sweated furiously,—which was their way of spewing—whilst others, stouter of thought, cried: “Hold! hold! Ye will die; ye will surely sicken and die if the stuff do but touch ye!”
“Ho! ho!” cried the Twain, eating more lustily than ever. “Eat thus and harden yourselves, you poor, soft things, you!”
Just then there was a great commotion. Everyone rushed to the shelter of the walls and houses, shouting to them to leave off and follow quickly.
“What is it?” asked they, looking up and all around.
“Woe, woe! The gods are angry with us this day, and blowing arrows at us. They will kill you both! Hurry!” A big puff of wind was blowing over, scattering slivers and straws before it; that was all!
“Brother,” said the elder, “this will not do. These people must be hardened and be taught to eat. But let us take a little sleep first, then we will look to this.”
They propped themselves up against a wall, set their shields in front of them, and fell asleep. Not long after they awakened suddenly. Those strange people were trying to drag them out to bury them, but were afraid to touch them now, for they thought them dead stuff, more dead than alive.
The younger brother punched the elder with his elbow, and both pretended to gasp, then kept very still. The people succeeded at last in rolling them out of the court like spoiling bodies, and were about to mingle them with the refuse when they suddenly let go and set up a great wail, shouting “War! Murder!”