At sight of the approaching Muskman, Kutnar shouted a glad “Hi-yo!” and ran forward to meet him.

“You are too young to be traveling about alone,” said Gonch when the pair came together.

The boy pouted. “Do not worry. I can take care of myself.” He now bore an ax in addition to the sling and stone-pouch which he always carried. “I have not been alone long,” he added. “Wulli was with me. He strayed off somewhere, and I was just looking for him.”

“Wulli?”

“Yes, the Woolly Rhinoceros. That is the name we know him by. The Mammoth is Hairi.”

“They both passed me some time ago,” said the Muskman. “They were strolling side by side up the valley.” For obvious reasons he made no mention of the slough and what had occurred there. The part he had played had best be known to nobody but himself.

“Good,” said the boy, much relieved. “I heard squeals and thought that one of them might be in trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” Gonch assured him. “They seemed quite happy and contented as they went away together. Strange why they should choose each other for companions. Are the two such good friends?”

“The best of friends,” Kutnar replied. “They would fight and die for each other. Any man or beast who attacks one of them has to fight both. It was the Mammoth who first said, ‘Friends should ever help each other.’ He says it and does it, too; so does the Rhinoceros.”

“Ugh!” Gonch began to feel hot and uncomfortable. It had suddenly occurred to him that Pic would soon learn from his friend the Mammoth of what had happened in the slough. He would not forget to tell of the man who had attacked him when he was unable to defend himself. Soon the whole valley would be in an uproar. Gonch shuddered as he thought of what Pic would do to him, if ever he was caught.

“Your father is much interested in the Hairy Elephant,” said Gonch. “I understand that he permits no one to hunt him. Would the latter go to him if any man were bold enough to harm the beast?”

“Perhaps; perhaps not,” replied the youth. “He and Wulli are sometimes queer about such matters. Like as not they would keep quiet and punish the offender themselves. Wulli in particular is inclined that way. However, you never can tell. Only this morning a rock, the Tilting Stone, fell from the cliff and barely missed destroying both animals. I doubt if my father yet knows of this.”

“And there would be only the rock to punish if he did know of it,” said Gonch.

“Also him who pushed it down,” the boy added.

“How?” the Muskman was in a cold sweat. “Who pushed it down?”

“A hyena,” the lad replied. “At first I thought it was a man.”

Gonch gasped and wiped his forehead. “No, your father does not know of this. I was with him on the Rock only a short time ago, and he made no mention of it. Your father and I have grown to be very fond of one another. Only this morning he was showing me how he made his flints.”

“How he finished them?” asked the lad in surprise.

“Yes, with the little tool. Do you know how it is done?”

“Of course, I do,” was the answer. “My father says that I am to become a weapon maker, and so he has taught me how to do the work. Some day I will do as well as he, so he says.”

“Um-m!” The Muskman’s eyes sparkled with a strange light. He had failed miserably and was a fugitive from Pic’s wrath, but now—the possibilities were unlimited. He might escape and succeed both.

“Wonderful boy,” he muttered. “And so you can make the fine blades with the little finishing tool. How surprising. And now I am about to tell you something. If you were not as good a friend of mine as I am yours, I could not bring myself to say it.”

“Agh, but I am your good friend,” Kutnar answered quickly. “You should tell me everything.”

“And you will not repeat what I say?” Gonch asked. “Your father and I must be very careful. Some one might hear of it.”

“Hear of what?” the boy inquired, now beside himself with curiosity. “I will be silent. Tell me.”

Gonch glanced about him. “Sh!” he said, lowering his voice and assuming an air of deep mystery. “We southrons have a new and better way of finishing the flints.”

“A better way?” the boy stared. “Impossible.”

“No, it is true,” Gonch declared impressively. “Your father agrees with me that our method is the best. I am to get it and bring it to him.”

“Get what?”

“The new finishing tool; cannot you understand?” the Muskman grumbled. “You see, I am grateful because you and your father have been very good to me. I am to live the rest of my life here, helping with the weapon-making. And now I must hurry away to get the finishing tool—the wonderful tool that we make our fine blades with. I will be so lonely, going away without you. That will hasten my return.” He embraced the boy and lingered over him. His whole manner was charged with a pathos that astonished even himself; but his affairs were nearing a crisis and the present occasion called for the best he had in him. Then as he hesitated with his heart-breaking farewell, hoping and praying for the fulfillment of his wishes, his heart suddenly sank. Kutnar’s nostrils had caught the offensive beast odor. He detached himself from the other’s arms and turned away his head.

“Is my best friend offended by the smell of my panther and hyena killing?” Gonch asked in a hurt voice. “Perhaps I did but a poor service when once I saved you from death.”

On being thus reminded of his debt, Kutnar experienced a wave of remorse. He clung tightly to his friend and buried his face in his chest. “Agh, you did well,” he whispered earnestly. “What you have done for me makes the odor sweet. I will not have you leave me alone. We will go together.”

“Would that it were possible. I would be so happy with you as my companion. But, you see, I must hurry. I cannot wait while you prepare yourself for the journey.”

The boy looked scornfully at the Muskman’s equipment, which consisted of nothing but an ax. “I am as much prepared as you are,” he said. “We can both go at once.”

Gonch yielded with seeming reluctance, and so they hurried off together, Gonch chatting and pointing out various things of interest, to divert the lad’s mind and prevent its turning too strongly to home and friends. However, Kutnar needed no encouragement. This was his first long trip away from home, but the thought of new adventures and things to see filled him with delight and anticipation. Deep down within his heart was a subdued feeling that he was playing the part of truant and that his father and friends might not like his sudden leave-taking. But he had a good friend with him, and his father would soon understand that the two of them had gone away together, also why and where they had gone. He wished that he might at least say good-by to the Mammoth and Rhinoceros; but there was no time to do this or to see any one, so he put these matters out of his mind and went his way.

The two traveled the balance of that day and far into the night, for Gonch confided that he was anxious to reach his destination and return before the cold weather set in. After a short rest, they were up with the sun and away again.

Gonch was really anxious to get a good, long start; also he feared that already he was being pursued. He had observed two animals—a large and a smaller one—trailing far in his rear and suspected them to be the Mammoth and Rhinoceros.

To throw them off the track, when he and Kutnar came to a river, instead of swimming directly across, they waded down stream for some distance, then landed and resumed the original direction of their journey.

If the Mammoth and Rhinoceros were really following, this ruse must have succeeded; for although Gonch kept a sharp eye on his line of retreat, he saw no more sign of pursuers. All fear of Pic and his friends now vanished, and his thoughts turned to the southland and the Cavern of Castillo.

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