b and Nod came into the great cavern again to Thimble, they
found him helpless with pain and fever. He could not even lift his head
from his green pillow. His eyes glowed in their bony hollows. And when
Thumb stooped over him he screamed, "Gunga! Gunga!" as if in fear.

Thumb turned and looked at Nod. "We shall have to carry him, Ummanodda,"
he said. "If he eats any more of their mouldy nuts and cheese our
brother will die in these wild mountains. They must be sad stomachs that
thrive on meat gone green with age. And now the physic is gone, and
where shall we find more in these great hills of ice? We must carry
him--we must carry him, Nodnodda."

Then Ghibba, who was standing near, understanding a little of what Thumb
said, though he had spoken low in Mulgar-royal, called four of his
twenty. And together they made a kind of sling or hammock or pallet out
of their strands of Cullum, and cushioned it with hair and moss. For
once every year these Mulgars shave all the hair off their bodies, and
lie in chamber until it is grown again. By this means even the very old
keep sleek and clean. With this hair they make a kind of tippet, also
cushions and bedding of all sorts. It is a curious custom, but each,
growing up, follows his father, and so does not perceive its oddness.
Into this litter, then, they laid Thimble, and lifted him on to their
shoulders by ropes at the corners, plaited thick, so as not to chafe the
bearers. Then, the others laden with great faggots of wood and torches,
bags of nuts and cheese, and skin bottles of milk, they passed through
an arch in the wall of the cavern, and the travellers set out once more.
All the Men of the Mountains came out with their little ones in the
starlight and torch-flare to see them go. Even the old chief squinnied
sulkily out of his hut, and spat on the ground when they were gone.

The Mulgar-path on the farther side of this arch was so wide that here
and there trees hung over it with frost-tasselled branches. And a rare
squabbling the little Mountain-owls made out of their holes in the rock
to see the travellers' torches passing by. First walked six of the Men
of the Mountains, two by two. Then came Thimble, tossing and gibbering
on his litter. Close behind the litter followed Ghibba, walking between
Thumb and Nod. And last, talking all together in their thin grasshopper
voices, the other ten Mountain-mulgars with more bags, more faggots, and
more burning torches. It was, as I