Kûlop strode along at a great pace for a matter of two or three miles, now and again directing Kria's attention to some trifling mark on earth or trunk or shrub which told of the passing of Pi-Noi.
"See here, brother," he said, indicating a place where the grass had much the appearance of a large hare's form. "There was one awaiting her. He sat there for a long time, listening for her coming, and there was much joy in that meeting. Behold here, and here, and here, how they danced together, as young fawns caper and leap—the hussy, your wife, and this youth of her own people. Like goes to like, brother, and a wild woman seeks ever a wild man, in no wise respecting the laws of wedlock. This wench has betrayed you. See, here they cooked food, yams of his gathering and the fish that she had brought, and he fashioned a nose-flute to make beast noises with, and thereafter there was more dancing, ere they bathed together in the stream, the shameless ones! and moved forward again, heading always for the Great Salt Lick!"
Kria, rent by devils of jealousy and rage, his face drawn and ghastly, his hands opening and clenching convulsively, said never a word; but his eyes took in each detail of the story recorded by the clear imprints upon grass and earth, and the yielding mud at the river's brink. Mechanically he followed Kûlop Rîau when the latter once more dived into the underwood.
"From this point," the old man was saying, "I abided no longer by the trail. They were making
