"I was younger then, Nizza-neela, and looked close at everything. It was newly gone. The stump was bald and pale red. He was, too, white in the extreme, this old Mulgar travelling out of Munza. Every single hair he carried had, as it were, been dipped in Tishnar's meal."
"I believe—oh, but I do believe," said Nod, "this poor old traveller was my father, the Mulla-mulgar Seelem, of the beautiful Valleys."
"Then," said Ghibba, jerking his faggot on to his back, and turning towards the camp, "he was a happy Mulgar, for he has brave sons."
"Tell me more," said Nod. "What did he talk about? Did he speak ever of Ummanodda? How long did he stay with the Mulla-moonas? Which way did he go?"
"Lead on, then," said Ghibba, peering under his bandage.
"Here go I," said Nod, touching his paw.
"He followed the mountain-paths with my own father," said Ghibba, "and lived alone for many days in one of our Spanyards,[7] for he was worn out with travel, and nearly dead from lying down to drink out of a Quickkul-fish pool. But after five days, while he was still weak, he rose up at daybreak, crying out in Munza-mulgar he could remain with us no longer. So my people brought him, as I have brought you, to this everlasting snow-field, where he said farewell and journeyed on alone."
"Had he a gun?" said Nod.
"What is a gun, Nizza-neela?"
"What then—what then?" cried Nod impatiently.