No Man was out bright and early the next morning visiting this cave and that to boast of his good fortune.
He strutted and made such a fuss generally that Old Moon Face said one might think No Man’s was the first man-child of whom there was any record.
When he had finished strutting and boasting, No Man trotted off into the woods to get what he needed for the safe accomplishment of the deed which he was still minded to do. And late in the afternoon he crept into a thicket near Strong Hand’s cave and lay in wait.
But this time he had smeared himself from head to foot with moose dung, and he knew that it would take a keener nose than Strong Hand’s to detect him.
Strong Hand had not killed that day, and as he drew near his cave, the strong smell of moose came to him from a thicket on the left of the runway.
Ears and nose twitching and eyes alert he turned cautiously into the thicket. Almost in his face there was a loud twanging jar, and at the same instant a pain like fire darted through his entrails, and he knew that he had been struck to death.
He dropped his spear, and felt foolishly at the little tuft of feathers that had suddenly become attached to him at a point just below the breast bone, and midway between the curling of the ribs.
Then his eyes grew red, and a roar that shook the thicket burst from his lips. He seized his club and rushed forward—and to the right, crouching, sneaking and whimpering with fear he saw No Man running for dear life.
Once more Strong Hand bellowed, and when he heard that bellow No Man screamed, and dropping his bow and arrows, fled with redoubled speed. But Strong Hand was hard after him.
No Man was so frightened that he did not follow the runways and glades of the forest tho’ these were well known to him. He ran aimlessly and without husbanding his strength, slashing into bushes and through them, crashing into thickets of young trees, doubling and running in circles.
They crossed a brook that was waist deep, and No Man bounding up the further bank turned his head to locate Strong Hand and smashed straight into a tree. He was a moment recovering himself, during that moment Strong Hand gained.
A few minutes later Strong Hand tripped on a rock and fell at full length, so that his club whirled out of his hand and dropped at a distance.
He arose and pursued unarmed. But No Man had gained. Still Strong Hand was the swifter runner, and if he had not been wounded, No Man could never have kept away from him so long.
Both were panting, and catching at the air with gulping mouths; but No Man was the more distressed, and his speed was diminishing. Inch by inch Strong Hand reduced the distance between them. The smell of the moose dung with which No Man had smeared himself became nearer, more pungent. Now Strong Hand was only four leaps behind, now three, now two—but his strength was going.
Then No Man tripped and fell screaming, and Strong Hand crushed down on him. They lay there for a little, and panted.
Presently, but slowly and cautiously Strong Hand raised himself until he was sitting astride of No Man. He dug his knees into No Man’s sides, and he dug his fingers into the long matted hair of No Man’s head.
They had fallen, as chance would have it, upon ground covered with jagged and broken rocks.
Strong Hand lifted No Man’s head until it was level with his own breast, and then he smashed it down upon the rocks. And after that first blow No Man had no face, and after the second, the life went out of him.
But lest there be any mistake Strong Hand turned him over, and with his sharp, thick nails and gorilla fingers, tore him open, and dragged out his entrails and scattered them upon the rocks.
Then he withdrew to a little distance and leaning his back against a tree, prepared to die in peace. He tried many times to draw the arrow from him but could not and he fell to fingering the feathers foolishly and stroking them smooth. Then he began to itch between the shoulder blades, and he was so weak that he could not scratch the place, so that it troubled him a great deal.
