Farther and farther receded the wailings of the sick man till at last a howl re-echoed in the darkness that brought the band of tribes people huddling together in fear. For it was the cry of the sabre-toothed tiger. Came then a stillness with only the voice of Tall driving the sweat out upon their bodies. And while the little band fed the friendly fire and gathered near its protecting flames, they waited for the end of the sick man. It came at last, one long scream of agony, when the greatest enemy of all the hordes came upon him. Big Foot knew and Strong Arm knew and the others of the tribes knew also that the danger to themselves was over for the night, but long they crouched in the light of the flames, ears twitching, nostrils quivering, like images of bronze frozen with fear. * * * * * Many other adventures befell the mixed group from the different clans, on their journeyings toward the Hollow which had been the home of the Cave People. There were dangers encountered and evaded or overcome in every hour of these eventful days. But at last they reached the ridge above the edge of the Hollow. Quack Quack and Strong Arm and the Foolish One and the others climbed the hill and gazed over into what had been once a lovely valley. But much of this lay filled with the soil left by the flood. Tall grasses waved in the breeze, and many new blossoms lifted their heads. And nearly all of the old familiar caves were filled with mud and covered up. It was all very queer. And while they proceeded with caution, as men going into a strange land, the brush before them parted and they beheld the grinning features of Big Nose and Light Foot and behind them others of the Cave People, and a fuzzy woman from among the Hairy Folk and strange people and former enemies from the other clans, all of whom had escaped the flood and wandered back toward the dwelling places of their tribes. And Strong Arm scooped out the soil that had been washed against the opening of a high cave upon the hill and entered it to rest after his long journey. And he dug with his hands into the soft earth, for he remembered the tubers he had buried there one day when he had been hunting with the men of the tribe, for he was hungry. And lo! _many_ juicy tubers he found where he had buried only two or three. And Strong Arm and Quack Quack ate of the potatoes, while, for a Cave-man, Strong Arm pondered deeply on these things. He thought much of _one_ tuber and how it had made _many_ tubers, and recalled the words of his father, who had spoken of the _mother_ potato. Then he felt Quack Quack at his side and forgot the matter and fell asleep.