Ryan could contain himself no longer. He felt his own feet moving with the vindictive beat of the drum. He heard his own voice take up the chant: "_Let us take the memory of our ancestors and tear it open, rend its vitals, throw its entrails on the fire: our ancestors, the eaters, the putrefiers of the lakes and the rivers; the consumers, the destroyers, the murderers of the living land; the selfish, the obese, the great collectors, who tried to devour the world_--" He joined the stomping mass of the tribe, his hands going through the mimic motions of killing, rending, throwing. Strength flowed into his emaciated limbs, pulsed through his undernourished body. He glimpsed Merium across the fire and he caught his breath at the beauty of her animated face. Again he almost wanted her, and for a while he was able to convince himself that some day he _would_ want her; that this time the effect of the Dance would not wear off the way it always had before and he would go on feeling strong and confident and unafraid and find many dogs to feed the tribe; then, perhaps, the men would want the women the way they used to, and he would want Merium, and the tribe would increase and become great and strong-- He raised his voice higher and stomped his feet as hard as he could. The hatred was like wine now, gushing hotly through his body, throbbing wildly in his brain. The chant crescendoed into a huge hysterical wail, a bitter accusation reverberating over the barren hills and the dead sea, riding the dust-laden wind-- "_Our ancestors were pigs! Our ancestors were pigs!..._"