But that was more than Inda could bring himself to do.
"Leave him!" he exclaimed. "Leave the most wonderful feast ever heard of in all the Bush! No, I will not. Magic or no Magic, he is dead, and I will see what moves."
He sprang forward, knife in hand, and with a quick movement slit open the body. Out popped a head—a black head, with fear and pain and bewilderment on its features. Inda sprang back, raising his knife to defend himself.
"Let me out!" begged the head. "It is horrible in here—no air, no light, nothing but dead men! Let me out, I say!"
"Are you Magic?" gasped Inda.
"Magic? I?" The wild eyes rolled in astonishment. "I am Kanalka, of the Crow Tribe, But an hour ago Kuperee swallowed me at a gulp, when he came upon me in the forest. I do not know why I am not dead—but I live yet, though I was wishing to die when suddenly you let the light in to my prison. Make your hole larger, friend, and let me out."
"Do you say there are dead men there?" demanded Pilla.
"He is full of them. I only am alive, I suppose because I was the last eaten. Be quick! be quick!"
Half doubting, half afraid, Inda opened the great body, and helped Kanalka out. He staggered and fell helplessly to the ground. Pilla and Inda did not trouble about him. One after another, they took from Kuperee ten black hunters, laying them in a row upon the grass. Last of all they took out Kon-garn and three others of their own tribe, and they wailed over them.
Kanalka, who had somewhat recovered, came and looked curiously at the row of men.