The more his mind dwelt upon her the sadder he became. He tried to convince himself that it was purely disappointment in being thwarted in his desire to thank her for her kindness to him, and demonstrate that her confidence in his prowess had not been misplaced; but always he discovered that his thoughts returned to Nadara rather than to the ostensible object of his adventure. In short he began to realize, rather vaguely it is true, that he had come because he wanted to see the girl again; but why he wanted to see her he did not know. That night he slept in one of the deserted caves, and the next morning set forth upon his quest for Nadara. For three days he searched the little valley, but without results. There was no sign of any other village within it. Then he passed over into another valley to the north. For weeks he wandered hither and thither without being rewarded by even a sight of a human being. Early one afternoon as he was topping a barrier in search of other valleys he came suddenly face to face with a great, hairy man. Both stopped--the hairy one glaring with his nasty little eyes. "I can kill you," growled the savage. Waldo had no desire to fight--it was information he was searching. But he almost smiled at the ready greeting of the man. It was the same that Sag the Killer had accorded him that day he had gone down to the sea for the last time. It came as readily and as glibly from these primitive men as "good morning" falls from the lips of the civilized races, yet among the latter he realized that it had its counterpart in the stony stares which Anglo Saxon strangers vouchsafe one another. "I have no quarrel with you," replied Waldo. "Let us be friends." "You are afraid," taunted the hairy one. Waldo pointed to his sable garment. "Ask Nagoola," he said. The man looked at the trophy. There could be no mightier argument for a man's valor than that. He came a step closer that he might scrutinize it more carefully. "Full-grown and in perfect health," he grunted to himself. "This is no worn and mangy hide peeled from the rotting carcass of one dead of sickness. "How did you slay Nagoola?" he asked suddenly. Waldo indicated his spear, then he drew his garment aside and pointed to the vivid, new-healed scars that striped his body. "We met at dusk at a cliff-top. He was above, I below. When we reached the bottom of the ravine Nagoola was dead. But it was nothing for Thandar. I am Thandar." Waldo rightly suspected that a little bravado would make a good impression on the intellect primeval, nor was he mistaken. "What do you here in my country?" asked the man, but his tone was less truculent than before. "I am searching for Flatfoot and Korth--and Nadara," said Waldo. The other's eyes narrowed. "What would you of them?" he asked. "Nadara was good to me--I would repay her." "But Flatfoot and Korth--what of them?" insisted the man.