of the cave, blinking out at the afternoon sun with his uninjured eye, and thinking. "I never was so startled in my life," he said at last. "They are the most extraordinary beasts. Attacking me!"
"I don't like them," said the she-bear, out of the darkness behind.
"A feebler sort of beast I never saw. I can't think what the world is coming to. Scraggy, weedy legs. . . . Wonder how they keep warm in winter?"
"Very likely they don't," said the she-bear.
"I suppose it's a sort of monkey gone wrong."
"It's a change," said the she-bear.
A pause.
"The advantage he had was merely accidental," said Andoo. "These things will happen at times."
"I can't understand why you let go," said the she-bear.
That matter had been discussed before, and settled. So Andoo, being a bear of experience, remained silent for a space. Then he resumed upon a different aspect of the matter. "He has a sort of claw—a long claw that he seemed to have first on one paw and then on the other. Just one claw. They're very odd things. The
