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Show 11 would always be remembered among his people. They would sing of his journey around their fires long after he was dead. They would sing of Supi, too, and her crippled leg, because it was for her he had made the j ourney. Also in the bag were some large, dried fish, wrapped in strange leaves. They were delicious to his taste. For these he gave thanks. His food supply was low and they would help the hunger pains that were already gnawing at his stomach. He had no time to hunt for nuts or seeds. He must move across the land swiftly and silently without any sign, or his pursuers would destory him and his dreams of greatness. "They will never find me." he said aloud, and the words gave him courage. He climbed a high rocky knoll to scout for landmarks and was amazed to find himself staring down into the sandy wash where he had first spotted the hunting party. His sense of direction was keen and he had circled back within a short distance of his precious stones. He quickly traced his flight to their hidden place, recovered the two pouches, and turned his face once more toward home. He was careful not to leave a trail. His carelessness had cost him his freedom once. It must not happen again. The feeling of being followed made him uneasy. All day he traveled with little rest. Long before dark he began looking for a place to sleep. The hunters were excellent trackers, and even though he covered his trail, they would find signs-a broken blade of grass, or an overturned rock. |