Several of the men nodded understandingly.
“We had not thought of that,” they said. “Thandar is indeed wise.”
“So now,” continued the American, “let us choose a king whom the majority of us want, and then so long as he is a good king the majority of us must fight for him and protect him. Let us choose a man whom we know to be a good man regardless of his ability to kill his fellows, for if he has the majority of the tribe to fight for him what need will he have to fight for himself? What we want is a wise man—one who can lead the tribe to fertile lands and good hunting, and in times of battle direct the fighting intelligently. Flatfoot and Big Fist had not brains enough between them to do aught but steal the mates of other men. Such should not be the business of kings. Your king should protect your mates from such as Flatfoot, and he should punish those who would steal them.”
“But how may he do these things?” asked a young man, “if he is not the best fighter in the tribe?”
“Have I not shown you how?” asked Thandar. “We who make him king shall be his fighters—he will not need to fight with his own hands.”
Again there was a long silence. Then the old man spoke again.
“There is wisdom in the talk of Thandar. Let
