to break and cut down wood, and to see if
perhaps among the thorns grew any nut-trees. But they found none; and
for their pains were only scratched and stung by these waste-trees which
bear a deadly poison in their long-hooked thorns. This poison, like the
English nettle, causes a terrible itch to follow wherever the thorns
scratch. So that the travellers could get no peace from the stinging and
itching except by continually rubbing the parts in snow wherever the
thorns had entered.

And Nod, while they were stick-gathering, kept close to Ghibba.

"Tell me, Prince of the Mountains," he said, "what are these nets of
N[=o][=o]manossi of which you spoke to my brother Thumb? What is there
so much to fear?"

Ghibba had sat himself down in the snow to pluck a thorn out of his
foot. "I will tell the Prince a tale," he said, stooping over his
bundle.

"Long time ago came to our mountains a Mulgar travelling alone. My
kinsmen think oftener of him than any stranger else, because,
Mulla-mulgar, he taught us to make fire. He was wayworn and full of
courage, but he was very old. And he, too, was journeying to the Valleys
of Tishnar. But he was, too, a silent Mulgar, never stirred his tongue
unless in a kind of drone at evening, and told us little of himself
except in sleep."

"What was he like?" said Nod. "Was he mean and little, like me, or tall
and bony, like my brother Thimble, or fat, like the Mulla-mulgar, my
eldest brother, Thumb?"

"He was," said Ghibba, "none of these. He was betwixt and between. But
he wore a ragged red jacket, like those of the Mulgars, and on his
woman-hand stood no fourth finger."

"Was the little woman-finger newly gone, or oldly gone?" said Nod.

"I was younger then, Nizza-neela, and looked close at everything. It
was newly gone. The stump was bald and pale red. He was, too, white in
the extreme, this old Mulgar travelling out of Munza. Every single hair
he carried had, as it were, been dipped in Tishnar's meal."

"I believe--oh, but I do believe," said Nod, "this poor old traveller
was my father, the Mulla-mulgar Seelem, of the beautiful Valleys."

"Then," said Ghibba, jerking his faggot on to his back, and turning
towards the camp, "he was a happy Mulgar, for he has brave sons."

"Tell me more," said Nod. "What did he talk about? Did he speak ever of
Ummanodda? How long did he stay with the Mulla-moonas? Which way did he
go?"

"Lead on, then," said Ghibba, peering under his bandage.