re not yours. They are neutral ground, and must not
be touched."

"Well, we will not touch them," said the peaceful Raturan.

This reply disconcerted the fiery mountaineer, for he was anxious to
fight.

"But that is not enough," he resumed, as a bright idea struck him, "you
must promise not even to _look_ at our mountain."

The man of Ratura reflecting how ill able his tribe was to go to war
just then, agreed not even to _look_ at the mountain!

"More than that" resumed the mountaineer, "you must not even wink at
it."

"We will not even wink at it," replied his foe. "Still further,"
continued the warlike mountaineer in sheer desperation, "you must not
even _think_ of it."

"We will not _think_ of it" answered the accommodating man of Ratura.

"Bah! you may go--you peace-loving cowards," said the disappointed
mountaineer, turning on his heel in bitter disappointment.

"Yes, you may go--in peace!" said Ongoloo with sententious gravity,
waving his band grandly to the retiring men of Ratura, and walking off
with an air of profound solemnity, though he could not help laughing--in
his arm, somewhere, as he had not a sleeve to do it in.

But the Raturans did not go in peace. They went away with bitter
animosity in their hearts, and some of them resolved to have a brush
with their old foes, come what might.

Savages do not, as a rule, go through the formality of declaring war by
withdrawing ambassadors. They are much more prone to begin war with
that deceptive act styled "a surprise."

Smarting under the taunts of their foes, the Raturans resolved to make
an attack on the enemy's village that very night, but Ongoloo was more
than a match for them. Suspecting their intentions, he stalked them
when the shades of evening fell, heard all their plans while concealed
among the long grass, and then, hastening home, collected his warriors.

It chanced that Zeppa had returned from one of his rambles at the time
and was lying in his hut.

"Will you come out with us and fight?" demanded Ongoloo, entering
abruptly.

The mention of fighting seemed to stir some chord which jarred in
Zeppa's mind, for he shook his head and frowned. It is possible that,
if the savage had explained how matters stood, the poor madman might
have consented, but the chief had not the time, perhaps not the will,
for that. Turning quickly round, therefore, he went off as abruptly as
he had entered.

Zeppa cared nothing for that. Indeed he