The rest. "Tomorrow," the chief continued, "we shall hunt again." He pointed at one savage and then another with his spear. "Some of you will stay here to improve the cave and defend the gate. I shall take a few hunters with me and bring back meat. The defenders of the gate will ensure that the others don’t sneak in."
A savage raised his hand, and the chief turned his bleak, painted face toward him. "Why should they try to sneak in, Chief?"
The chief was vague but earnest. "They will. They’ll try to spoil what we do. So the watchers at the gate must be careful. And then—"
The chief paused. They saw a triangle of startling pink dart out, pass along his lips, and vanish again. "—and then, the beast might try to come in. You remember how he crawled—"
The semicircle shuddered and muttered in agreement. "He came—disguised. He may come again even though we gave him the head of our kill to eat. So watch; and be careful."
Stanley lifted his forearm off the rock and held up an interrogative finger. "Well?"
"But didn’t we, didn’t we—?"
He squirmed and looked down. "No!"
In the silence that followed, each savage flinched away from his individual memory. "No! How could we—kill—it?"
Half-relieved, half-daunted by the implication of further terrors, the savages murmured again. "So leave the mountain alone," said the chief solemnly, "and give it the head if you go hunting."
Stanley flicked his finger again. "I expect the beast disguised itself."
"Perhaps," said the chief.
---
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