“These are the most beautiful flints that I have ever seen,” said No Man presently.
“You are not telling me anything new,” said No Foot in a surly voice. Tho’ he was very much flattered inside.
“But how large they are,” said No Man.
“They are for men,” said No Foot, “not for bone scratchers.”
“I have thought,” said No Man, without taking offence, “that you made them of this size, because you were unable to make them smaller.”
“Unable!” said No Foot, flaring up, “I can make them of any size I choose.”
No Man laughed provokingly.
“Go back to your cave, Do nothing, No Man,” said No Foot. “You are between me and the light. Furthermore your person is offensive and your face of appalling ugliness.”
No Man continued to laugh. Then he addressed the hillside.
“He is angry,” he said. “Ho-Ho—because he can’t make them small. He has three feet and two of them are hands. Ho-Ho. He has three feet but he cannot run on legs. He has two hands but he cannot make little spear heads. He is a lump of mud, a filthy bear, a litterer of the ground. Furthermore, if he were not so humorous to look at, I could not bear the neighborhood of him.”