In spite of the large number of men and women and children who lost their lives in the great flood, this was a time of progress, a time when all the tribes learned many new things. The surviving Hairy Folk were thrown with members of the tribe of Cave People—and learned the use of fire. The Tree Dwellers were forced to walk upon the ground and learned new methods of fishing and hunting from the Cave People, the fashioning of rafts made of bamboo poles bound together with tough grasses and wild vines, which one could propel in the water by paddling with the hands. The Tall People, who contributed a meagre knowledge of flint, gained the use of the bow and arrow from their old enemies, the Dart Throwers. It was a time when men learned much. Of course, many of these things were forgotten in the days of ease and plenty, until the children of the members of the tribes discovered or invented or were shown them all over again in the years that followed. Strong Arm and Quack Quack and Laughing Boy, in company with the Foolish One and Tall and Big Foot and the Hairy Man, followed the shore of the river in order to reach the home of the Cave People. Scarcely a sound they made, as they wound their way through the heavy grasses that sprung up, with the magic of the tropics, from the rich soil left by the flood. Of food there was now every day a greater abundance. Fruits ripened and grew luscious over night. Hundreds of fish were left in shallows by the receding flood where they could be gathered by hand. And it was impossible to avoid stumbling over the egg-filled nests of the gulls and the oo-ee-a. Also there were unknown dangers, and Tall grew ill with a fever that made the touch of his hands like the flames of the protecting fire. And although Big Foot and Quack Quack brought him every day fresh fruit and other food, which they sometimes roasted in the coals, he drove them away. Steadily he grew worse until madness came into his eyes and his voice rose above the quiet of the night and Laughing Boy grew fearful in spite of the friendly fire. For the roars of the sick man, Tall, echoed through the woods and the forest enemies would hear and approach. But Tall could not be restrained. A new strength that comes with the fever fed his veins, and a night came when he thrust his companions from him and disappeared, screaming into the woods. They never saw him again. For as he ran, his wild cries filled the night and the very branches of the trees seemed to waken with the tumult. Then came the grim howl of the hyena and the soft fall of padded feet upon the earth. Down the gulley a strange voice arose. Life stirred in the bushes and the hair on the head of Laughing Boy rose in terror.