oiddyvire," said Nod, mimicking him softly.

And at that Battle burst into such a roar of laughter the hut shook. He
filled Nod's platter with water, and gave him the rest of the Ukka-nuts.
He went into the hut and fetched musket, powder, and bullets. He put a
thick-peaked hat on his head, then, with his musket over his shoulder,
he nodded handsomely at the little blinking Mulgar, and off he went.

Nod watched him stride away. With a hop, skip, and a jump he crashed
across the frozen water, and soon disappeared down the steep path that
led into the forest. When he was out of sight, Nod lay down in the
shadow of the log-hut. He felt a strange comfort, as if there was
nothing in all Munza-mulgar to be afraid of. His rage and sullenness
were gone. He would rest here awhile with this Oomgar, if he were as
kind as he seemed to be, and try to understand what he said. Then, when
his feet were healed of their sores and blains, and his shoulder was
quite whole again, he would set off once more after his brothers.

All the next day, and the day after that, Nod sat patient and still,
tethered with a long cord round his neck to the Oomgar's hut. When
Battle spoke to him he listened gravely. When he laughed and showed his
teeth, Nod showed his cheerfully, too. And when Battle sat silent and
cast down in thought, Nod pretended to be unspeakably busy over his
nuts.

And soon the sailor found himself beginning to look forward to seeing
the hairy face peering calmly out of the sheep's-jacket on his return
from his hunting. On the third evening, when, after a long absence, he
came home, tired out and heavy-laden, with a little sharp-horned
Impolanca-calf and a great frost-blackened bunch of Nanoes, he took off
Nod's halter altogether and set him free.

"There!" said he; "we're messmates now, Master Pongo. Andy Battle's had
a taste of slavery himself, and it isn't reasonable, my son. It frets in
like rusty iron, my son; and Andy's supped his fill of it. I takes to
your company wonnerful well, and if you takes to mine, then that's
plain-sailing, says I. But if them apes and monkeys over yonder are more
to your liking than a shipwrecked sailor, who's to blame ye? Every man
to his own, says I; breeches to breeches, and bare to bare. The werry
first thing is for me and you to unnerstand one another."

Nod listened gravely to all this talk, and caught the sailor's meaning,
what with a word here, a nod, a wink, or a smile there, and the je