Old Long-Beard paused in his narrative, licked his greasy fingers,
and wiped them on his naked sides where his one piece of ragged
bearskin failed to cover him. Crouched around him, on their hams,
were three young men, his grandsons, Deer-Runner, Yellow-Head, and
Afraid-of-the-Dark. In appearance they were much the same. Skins of
wild animals partly covered them. They were lean and meagre of
build, narrow-hipped and crooked-legged, and at the same time
deep-chested, with heavy arms and enormous hands. There was much
hair on their chests and shoulders, and on the outsides of their
arms and legs. Their heads were matted with uncut hair, long locks
of which often strayed before their eyes, beady and black and
glittering like the eyes of birds. They were narrow between the
eyes and broad between the cheeks, while their lower jaws were
projecting and massive. It was a night of clear starlight, and
below them, stretching away remotely, lay range on range of
forest-covered hills. In the distance the heavens were red from the
glow of a volcano. At their backs yawned the black mouth of a cave,
out of which, from time to time, blew draughty gusts of wind.
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