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"I am indeed dear to you, I think," says Mona, softly and thankfully, growing a little pale through the intensity of her emotion.,"I will burn them with my own hands," says Mona.,Her tone is only too significant. His face has grown black again. A heavy frown sits on his brow.,The simple query confounds him more than might a more elaborate one put by a clever worldling. Why indeed?,He went to some of the people who were still alive, and said to them, "How is it that you people do nothing to these animals that are killing you?" The people replied, "What can we do? These animals are armed and can kill us, and we have no way to kill them.",After that the little girl who was watching came into the lodge and said, "Pity me, man-eater, my mother is hungry and asks you for those bones." The old man gathered them together and handed them to her, and she took them out of the lodge. When she had gone a little way, she called all the dogs to her and threw down the bones to the dogs, crying out, "Look out, Kŭt-o-yĭs´, the dogs are eating you," and when she said that, Kŭt-o-yĭs´ arose from the pile of bones.,"Bring wood," the chief called out; "let every one bring some wood; all you have at your lodges. Those who have none, let them go quickly and bring some from the timber.","Well, I noticed that, too. There did seem to be a great scarcity of that raw material," answers Darling, lightly. "Yet they are a fine race in spite of it. I'm going over again to see my friend Terry before very long. He is the most amusing fellow, downright brilliant. So is his hair, by the by,—the very richest crimson.","Yet I think you should have told me," she whispers, as a last fading censure. "Do you know you have made me very unhappy?",Mona, rising, pushes Violet gently into her own chair, a little black-and-gold wicker thing, gaudily cushioned.,"Well, then, I think it is only just you should be unhappy," says Mona, with some vehemence. "Those who seek to scatter misery broadcast among their fellows should learn to taste of it themselves.",In the death-chamber silence reigns. No one moves, their very breathing seems hushed. Paul Rodney's eyes are closed. No faintest movement disturbs the slumber into which he seems to have fallen..