. He both hated and feared the _death-things_ his
ancestors had so carelessly left lying about before they vanished. But
that wasn't right. Morge scratched his grizzly old head and thought hard.
According to Builder, wisest of their tribe, their ancestors hadn't all
vanished; some of them had become the tribe--Sinzor, Builder, and even old
Morge. Very puzzling. But it was all because of the _death-things_!

Puffing, Morge completed the barrier, then turned for a last look at the
_'thing_ gleaming dully in the pale winter sunlight. How strange it
looked. In no way did it resemble the usual _death-things_, most of which
were long and round with little wings attached. This one was different,
like nothing he'd ever seen before. It was boxlike with strange arms
sticking up; and under the arms, half-buried, was a shelf or platform
resembling vaguely the upper portion of two legs. The _'thing_ terrified
Morge for a moment; then, in order to prove his courage to himself, he
stepped forward and spat on it. Nothing happened. Sneering, he spat on it
again and watched his spittle slowly run down its side over a strange
marking like a thunderbolt--

Thunderbolt!

Suddenly Morge fell grovelling to his one good knee. It was Thor, god of
thunder and lightning and god of the tribe!

_And he had spat on Thor!_

For nearly an hour he knelt there praying forgiveness for his sacrilege.
Then, trembling, he tore off a piece of his goatskin and wiped the spittle
off Thor's side, carefully began to uncover the remainder of Thor.

Finally he lifted Thor out of the hole and onto level ground. Kneeling
once more, he took a small drink-scoop from his belt and placed it before
Thor. Then he pulled out his knife and folded his single leg under him;
bending over, he cut a gash in his wrist and let the blood flow into the
scoop until it was nearly full.

Rising to his knee he said, "Oh, Thor, please take this humble offering to
show that I am forgiven." Almost prostrate now, he picked up the scoop and
placed it on Thor's lap beneath his arms.

Immediately there was a soft rumble and humming. Fearfully old Morge
watched Thor's arms come down, lift up the scoop and carry it inside his
huge mouth. There was a sucking noise and the scoop was returned empty to
his lap.

Filled with joy, Morge spent another endless time thanking Thor. Then all
of a sudden an idea seized him. What if he carried Thor back to the tribe
and presented him to the pri