“Umph! Fine big words,” the Rhinoceros sniffed. “But these same men scatter and run like rabbits whenever we meet. I have no quarrel with them but they are not friends of mine.”
“Nor mine;” the Ape Boy scowled and said this with such emphasis that his visitors stared.
“You say first one thing and then another,” Hairi grumbled. “What do you mean? Are not the Trog-men your friends?”
The question aroused the Ape Boy as if by magic. His deep-set eyes blazed like two coals of fire. His lips parted in a snarling grin, fiercer than that of a mad wolf. Every muscle in his body swelled and quivered.
“I hate them,” was all he said; but every word reeked with loathing and contempt.
“Why?”
“They cast me out,” the youth fairly howled. “It is not enough that I make weapons for hunters and warriors. They would have me be a hunter and warrior too. Men hated me because I would neither hunt nor fight.”
“Can you not fight?” demanded the Rhinoceros scornfully. “Even a squirrel——”
“I can,” the Ape Boy cut him short.
“But I heard you say otherwise,” Wulli snorted.