"Who?"
A gleam of burning hate flashed from her eyes.
"Who? Why, they--the people down there, of course," and she spat in the direction of the village.
A feeling of mingled surprise and satisfaction arose within him, for here was a being who could share his hatred; some one whom fate was to associate with him in the coming struggle with the villagers below.
"So the people down there are your foes?" he said.
She laughed jeeringly.
"I should just think they were. They throw stones at me whenever they get the chance--stones as big as this." She joined the hollows of her hands together to show the size.
"For how long have they thrown stones at you?"
"It must be six years," she said after a moment's calculation.
"And how often have they hit you?"