ng a conquest of ours. Sorry the conquest! We had no chance against
them. It was slaughter, indiscriminate slaughter, for they spared none,
killing old and young, effectively ridding the land of our presence.

It was like the end of the world to us. We fled to the trees as a last
refuge, only to be surrounded and killed, family by family. We saw much
of this during that day, and besides, I wanted to see. The Swift One and
I never remained long in one tree, and so escaped being surrounded. But
there seemed no place to go. The Fire-Men were everywhere, bent on their
task of extermination. Every way we turned we encountered them, and
because of this we saw much of their handiwork.

I did not see what became of my mother, but I did see the Chatterer shot
down out of the old home-tree. And I am afraid that at the sight I did a
bit of joyous teetering. Before I leave this portion of my narrative, I
must tell of Red-Eye. He was caught with his wife in a tree down by the
blueberry swamp. The Swift One and I stopped long enough in our flight
to see. The Fire-Men were too intent upon their work to notice us, and,
furthermore, we were well screened by the thicket in which we crouched.

Fully a score of the hunters were under the tree, discharging arrows
into it. They always picked up their arrows when they fell back to
earth. I could not see Red-Eye, but I could hear him howling from
somewhere in the tree.

After a short interval his howling grew muffled. He must have crawled
into a hollow in the trunk. But his wife did not win this shelter. An
arrow brought her to the ground. She was severely hurt, for she made
no effort to get away. She crouched in a sheltering way over her baby
(which clung tightly to her), and made pleading signs and sounds to the
Fire-Men. They gathered about her and laughed at her--even as Lop-Ear
and I had laughed at the old Tree-Man. And even as we had poked him with
twigs and sticks, so did the Fire-Men with Red-Eye's wife. They poked
her with the ends of their bows, and prodded her in the ribs. But she
was poor fun. She would not fight. Nor, for that matter, would she get
angry. She continued to crouch over her baby and to plead. One of the
Fire-Men stepped close to her. In his hand was a club. She saw and
understood, but she made only the pleading sounds until the blow fell.

Red-Eye, in the hollow of the trunk, was safe from their arrows. They
stood together and debated for a while, then one of them