“Never again!” chorussed the weary men.  “Never again!” And Tyee joined with them.

That night, with the memory of their dead in their hearts, and in their hands stones and spears and knives, the horde of women and children collected about the known mouth of the cave.  Down the twenty and odd precarious feet to the ground no Sunlander could hope to pass and live.  In the village remained only the wounded men, while every able man—­and there were thirty of them—­followed Oloof to the secret opening.  A hundred feet of broken ledges and insecurely heaped rocks were between it and the earth, and because of the rocks, which might be displaced by the touch of hand or foot, but one man climbed at a time.  Oloof went up first, called softly for the next to come on, and disappeared inside.  A man followed, a second, and a third, and so on, till only Tyee remained.  He received the call of the last man, but a quick doubt assailed him and he stayed to ponder.  Half an hour later he swung up to the opening and peered in.  He could feel the narrowness of the passage, and the darkness before him took on solidity.  The fear of the walled-in earth chilled him and he could not venture.  All the men who had died, from Neegah the first of the Mandells, to Howgah the last of the Hungry Folk, came and sat with him, but he chose the terror of their company rather than face the horror which he felt to lurk in the thick blackness.  He had been sitting long when something soft and cold fluttered lightly on his cheek, and he knew the first winter’s snow was falling.  The dim dawn came, and after that the bright day, when he heard a low guttural sobbing, which came and went at intervals along the passage and which drew closer each time and more distinct He slipped over the edge, dropped his feet to the first ledge, and waited.

That which sobbed made slow progress, but at last, after many halts, it reached him, and he was sure no Sunlander made the noise.  So he reached a hand inside, and where there should have been a head felt the shoulders of a man uplifted on bent arms.  The head he found later, not erect, but hanging straight down so that the crown rested on the floor of the passage.

“Is it you, Tyee?” the head said.  “For it is I, Aab-Waak, who am helpless and broken as a rough-flung spear.  My head is in the dirt, and I may not climb down unaided.”

Tyee clambered in, dragged him up with his back against the wall, but the head hung down on the chest and sobbed and wailed.

“Ai-oo-o, ai-oo-o!” it went “Oloof forgot, for Mesahchie likewise knew the secret and showed the Sunlanders, else they would not have waited at the end of the narrow way.  Wherefore, I am a broken man, and helpless—­ai-oo-o, ai-oo-o!”

“And did they die, the cursed Sunlanders, at the end of the narrow way?” Tyee demanded.