“It has gone,” said the chief.
“Yes,” assented Bear-Killer, in a tone of relief. “We shall hear it no more to-day. It went away on the storm.”
“The vengeance of Meno is terrible!” said the chief, with a shudder. “But we are safe now. Now for my revenge!”
“Stop,” said Bear-Killer. “We will draw lots. I, too have come here for vengeance on the white hunter.”
The chief grunted a guttural and very unwilling compliance to this proposition.
“We must hurry,” he said, “or he will be dead. He is almost dead now.”
Bear-Killer made a very small mark on the trunk of the tree.
“The one that throws his tomahawk the nearest to the mark wins,” said he.
They took their places almost on the verge of the high bluff on which they were standing.
Ku-nan-gu-no-nah threw first.