ice of the rocks. And Ghibba, being one of the strongest of them,
and also nearly blind, crept to the end and unwound himself down; then
one by one the rest of the Mountain-mulgars descended, till the last and
least was gone.

"Hold my legs, Thumb, my brother, that I may see what they're at," said
Nod. Thumb clutched him tight, and Nod edged on his stomach to the end
of the bending pole. He saw far down the grey string of the Men of the
Mountains dangling, but even the last of them was still twenty or thirty
Mulgars off the Tummusc-bush. He heard their shrill chirping. And
presently the first sunbeam trembled over the wall of the mountain above
them, and beamed clear into the valley. Nod wriggled back to Thumb.
"They cannot reach him," he said. "He lies there huddled up, Thumb, in a
Tummusc-bush, just as he fell."

"Why, then," said Thumb, "he must have hung dead all night. The eagles
will have picked his eyes out."

In a little while the last and least of the Mountain-mulgars crept back
over Ghibba's shoulders and scrambled on to the path. He was a little
blinking fellow, and in colour patched like damask.

"Is he dead? Is he dead? Is thy 'Messimut' dead?" said Nod, leaning his
head.

"He is dead, Mulla-mulgar, or in his second sleep," he answered.

Now, all the Mulgar beads on that strange string stood whispering and
nodding together. Ghibba presently turned away from them, and began
raking back the last smoulderings of their watch-fire.

"What will you do?" said Nod. "Why do you drag back the embers?"

"The swiftest of us is going back to bring a longer 'rope' and stronger
staves and Samarak, and, alive or dead, they will drag him up. But we go
on, Mulla-mulgar."

"Ohe," said Nod softly; "but will he not be melted by then, Prince of
the Mountains? Will not the eagle's feather be blown away? Will not the
frost flowers have melted from the bush?"

Ghibba turned his grave, hairy face to Nod.

"The Men of the Mountains will remember you in their drones,
Mulla-mulgar, for saving the life of their kinsman; they will call you
in their singing 'Mulla-mulgar Eengenares'"--that is, Royal-mulgar with
the Eyes of an Eagle.

Nod laughed. "Already am I in my brothers' thoughts Prince of Bonfires,
Noddle of Pork; if only I could see through Zut, they also might call me
Eengenares, too."

All were in haste now, binding up what remained of faggots and torches,
combing and beating themselves and quenching the fires. So