They crossed a brook that was waist deep, and No Man bounding up the further bank turned his head to locate Strong Hand and smashed straight into a tree. He was a moment recovering himself, during that moment Strong Hand gained.
A few minutes later Strong Hand tripped on a rock and fell at full length, so that his club whirled out of his hand and dropped at a distance.
He arose and pursued unarmed. But No Man had gained. Still Strong Hand was the swifter runner, and if he had not been wounded, No Man could never have kept away from him so long.
Both were panting, and catching at the air with gulping mouths; but No Man was the more distressed, and his speed was diminishing. Inch by inch Strong Hand reduced the distance between them. The smell of the moose dung with which No Man had smeared himself became nearer, more pungent. Now Strong Hand was only four leaps behind, now three, now two—but his strength was going.
Then No Man tripped and fell screaming, and Strong Hand crushed down on him. They lay there for a little, and panted.
Presently, but slowly and cautiously Strong Hand raised himself until he was sitting astride of No Man. He dug his knees into No Man’s sides, and he dug his fingers into the long matted hair of No Man’s head.
They had fallen, as chance would have it, upon ground covered with jagged and broken rocks.
Strong Hand lifted No Man’s head until it was level with his own breast, and then he smashed it down upon the rocks. And after that first blow No Man had no face, and after the second, the life went out of him.
But lest there be any mistake Strong Hand turned him over, and with his sharp, thick nails and gorilla fingers, tore him open, and dragged out his entrails and scattered them upon the rocks.