"They say that the limocon has sung in the east but once since it heralded the birth of Ohto, who is the greatest chief they ever had. But it has sung in the west eight times--and each time it was followed by the death of one of Ohto's family. Now the old man is the last of his line. These things may have been mere coincidences but you can see why they believe implicitly in their feathered oracles. "A week ago, while I was still kept prisoned in this hut, the bird sang in the south, an omen of sufficient favor to cause my release. Since then I have been free to wander about--and if it had not sung, my influence would have amounted to nothing when I pled for you. And I might not have been here to plead. "That's about all, Major, except as to what manner of folk these Hillmen are, and that you will learn better for yourself." The Major rose and stepped to the door where they could survey the village, unseen by the brown people who now swarmed the hard-packed clearing. They were a squat race. The men, G-stringed, displayed the same powerful physique that had marked the warrior who had conducted the Major, the women were clad in a single width of homespun cotton which draped from waist to knee and passed up over breast and back to knot at the right shoulder. Men, women and children were all long haired, and marked alike with broad, high cheek-boned faces flattened across the bridge of the nose. Their slightly thickened lips and widened nostrils were offset by large, intelligent eyes. They were grouped about the fires which burned in the center of the village, the women tending the pots which steamed over the coals. The fresh hide of a buck lay in the center of the ring of fires amid heaps of yams and unthreshed rice. "Community cooking," explained Terry. "The young men hunt, the older ones farm, the girls weave and the old women cook. The scheme works out well in such a simple manner of living. Such government as they have is a blending of a little democracy with strong patriarchism. The old chief, Ohto, lets them have their own way about the little things, but when he speaks it is the law." "How numerous are they?" "Six or eight thousand. This is the largest of nine villages scattered around the crown of the mountain. Ohto rules them all." He pointed to a wide lane leading through the fringe of woods into another and smaller clearing a few hundred feet south. "That is where Ohto lives. No one approaches his house unless sent for. You--we--are to have an audience with him to-night. He set the time at moonrise." "A husky lot," commented the Major. "They're bigger than the Bogobos, and lighter skinned--but they sure don't get much chance to tan in these woods!" "They're a wild lot, Major, but you'll like them."