And with our coming to live with the horde came
trouble. Red-Eye had had I don't know how many wives
since the Singing One. She had gone the way of the
rest. At present he had a little, soft, spiritless
thing that whimpered and wept all the time, whether he
beat her or not; and her passing was a question of very
little time. Before she passed, even, Red-Eye set his
eyes on the Swift One; and when she passed, the
persecution of the Swift One began.
Well for her that she was the Swift One, that she had
that amazing aptitude for swift flight through the
trees. She needed all her wisdom and daring in order
to keep out of the clutches of Red-Eye. I could not
help her. He was so powerful a monster that he could
have torn me limb from limb. As it was, to my death I
carried an injured shoulder that ached and went lame in
rainy weather and that was a mark of is handiwork.
The Swift One was sick at the time I received this
injury. It must have been a touch of the malaria from
which we sometimes suffered; but whatever it was, it
made her dull and heavy.
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