, and the blow was so heavy that he fell motionless at my feet.
When I saw my companion stretched on the earth, I stood for a moment as
it were paralysed, not knowing what to think or to do. Then an awful
fear came over me, that I should be seized and killed. I looked all
about me in search of a hole wherein I might conceal my companion, but I
saw nothing of the kind. I then thought of hiding myself. At a short
distance from our house there was a great pile of brushwood, collected
for fuel. I directed my steps thither, and with great labour made a
hole, into which, after desperately scratching myself, I managed to creep
up to my neck, resolved never to come out of it.

"When night fell, I found they were seeking me. My mother was calling me
in all directions; but I took good care not to answer. I was even
anxious not to move the brushwood, lest the sound should lead to my
discovery, and, as I anticipated, to my being killed. I was terribly
frightened when I heard a number of people crying out, and disputing, I
concluded, about me. The night passed away; in the morning I felt
devouringly hungry. I began to cry; but I could not even cry at my ease,
for I feared to be discovered by the people whom I heard moving about,
and I was resolved never to quit the brushwood."--"But were you not
afraid you should die of hunger?"--"The idea never occurred to me; I felt
hungry indeed, but that was all. The reason I had for concealing myself
was that I might not die; for I thought that if they did not find me, of
course they could not kill me."--"Well, and how long did you remain in
the brushwood?"--"Well, I have often heard people say that you can't
remain long without eating; but those who say so, never tried the
experiment. I can answer for it, that a boy of seven years old can live,
at all events, three days and four nights, without eating anything
whatever.

"After the fourth night, early in the morning, they found me in my hole.
When I felt they were taking me out, I struggled as well as I could, and
endeavoured to get away. My father took me by the arm. I cried and
sobbed, 'Do not kill me, do not kill me,' cried I; 'it was not I who
killed _Nasamboyan_.' They carried me to the house, for I would not
walk. While I wept, in utter despair, the people about me laughed. At
last they told me not to be afraid, for that Nasamboyan was not dead, and
soon afterwards Nasamboyan came into the room as well as ever, only that