Near the camp another procession came out to meet them: Burkamukk, their father, marching at the head of all his tribe. First came the Meki-gar, very solemn, and inwardly very disgusted that the honour of slaying Kuperee had not fallen to them; then came all the warriors and the old men, then the boys, and lastly the women and children. They were shouting greetings and praises and singing songs of welcome. Burkamukk halted as his sons drew near. They came up to him and knelt before him and Inda laid the stone axe at his feet.
"We bring you back your mighty weapon, my father," he said. "It has slain your enemy."
Then all the tribe shouted afresh, and the warriors leaped in the air, and the whole country was filled with the sound of their rejoicings. And they bore Pilla and Inda home in triumph, naming them the most famous heroes of all the tribes of the Bush.
But the Magic of Kuperee was not done with them yet.
They feasted late that night, and the sun was high overhead before they woke next day. They were in a wurley by themselves, but outside the boys of the tribe were clustered, peeping in to see the mighty warriors. Pilla stretched himself, and flung out an arm, which struck Inda.
"Take care!" Inda said, angrily, waking up. "You hurt me."
"Why, I hardly touched you," Pilla answered. "You must have been dreaming."
"Well, it is no dream that I am very sore," said Inda. "All my body seems covered with bruises, just as it was after our fight under the tree of Kuperee."
"That is queer," said Pilla, "for my nose also feels terribly sore. That must have been a mighty blow that you dealt it." He felt it tenderly. "It feels queer, too. Does it look curious?"
"There is a furrow down it, but then there always has been, since our fight," said Inda. "You look not much worse than usual. But I—see, is there anything wrong with me?"