CHAPTER IV
SLAT
Slat, the old wise man, sat in the doorway of his hut, preparing a quid of betel-nut. His withered body was bare to the waist, its skin a network of intricate, fine wrinkles. The folds of his som-pot covered him from waist to knee; his thin, bony legs were crossed compactly in front of him; his feet were unshod. The worn, frayed soles of them resembled rotting leather. Above the bulging protuberances of his brow, to which his emaciation lent an added prominence, his white hair rose in an erect shock, stiff, straight, and close. His features were craggy—the fore- head, heavy with thought, was massive and rough-hewn as a boulder; the line of the nose irregular and strong; the chin firm and thrust- ing. Even the empty gums, and the hollows into which the lower part of the face had sunken above them, could not rob the mouth of its calm strength. Shaggy eyebrows sprouted in thick, white clusters above eyes set in innumer- able radiating wrinkles. The chisels of time had scored deep furrows across his brow, and
