THE SWEET-SCENTED NAME
can we live without him? You will overthrow all the traditions of our ancestors—but upon what will you rebuild our life?"
Alack! We did not know about that, nor did we care to think. All we wished was to be rid of the cruel beast!
And, behold, one morning there were joyful shouts ringing through the village streets, and all the children ran about crying, "The beast is wounded! The beast is dying!"
The girls of the village clapped their hands and danced and sang, saying, "The beast is dead, is dead!"
On the banks of the river Mairure the beast lay dying, wounded by a poisoned arrow. His green eyes burned with powerless rage, and his fearful claws tore the earth and the herbage, all defiled by his foul blood.
Those who still feared the beast hid themselves in their huts and wept.
But we rejoiced that day.
We didn't think how we were going to live.
We did not consider who might come to the shore of the river Mairure and enslave us by another and more evil tyranny.
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