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the hawthorn-trees.
Then all the women and children lifted up their voices together, and
called to him in one last vain effort.
Far down the river the reeds were stirring in the breeze, where,
convenient for his new sort of feeding, the old lion, who had taken to
man-eating, had made his lair.
The old woman turned her face that way, and pointed to the hawthorn
thickets. "Uya," she screamed, "there goes thine enemy! There goes thine
enemy, Uya! Why do you devour us nightly? We have tried to snare him!
There goes thine enemy, Uya!"
But the lion who preyed upon the tribe was taking his siesta. The cry
went unheard. That day he had dined on one of the plumper girls, and his
mood was a comfortable placidity. He really did not understand that he
was Uya or that Ugh-lomi was his enemy.
So it was that Ugh-lomi rode the horse, and heard first of Uya the lion,
who had taken the place of Uya the Master, and was eating up the tribe.
And as he hurried back to the gorge his mind was no longer full of the
horse, but of the thought that Uya was still alive, to slay or be slain.
Over and over again he saw the shrunken band of women and children
crying that Uya was a lion. Uya was a lion!
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