His coat of skin was rent and hung awry and, as all
could see when he staggered down the pathway, the flesh was torn from one
cheek and arm, and down his leg on one side was the stain of dried blood.
He was exhausted from his hurt and his run and his talk was, at first,
almost unmeaning. He was met by some of the older and wiser among those
who saw him coming and to their questions answered only by demanding Ab,
who came at once. The hard-breathing and wounded man could only utter the
words "Big tiger," when he pitched forward and became unconscious. But
his words had been enough. Well understood was it by all who listened
what a raid of the cave tiger meant, and there was a running to the
gateway and soon was raised the wall of ready stone, upbuilt so high that
even the leaping monster could not hope to reach its summit. Later the
story of the wounded, but now conscious and refreshed runner, was told
with more of detail and coherence.
The messenger brought out what he had to tell gaspingly. He had lost much
blood and was faint, but he told how there had taken place something
awful in the village of the Shell Men. It was but little after dusk the
night before when the Shell Men were gathered together in merrymaking
after good fishing and lucky gathering of what there was to eat along the
shores of the shell fish and the egg-laying turtles and the capture of a
huge river-horse.
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