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He had lost much cuticle, and the saddle was in shreds, but the puaka piki enata was evidently in fairly good health. The old man had slowly followed me down the trail, and he stood within the doorway of a rude hut, blinking in the sun as he watched my movements. In the houses were altogether fewer than a dozen people. They sat by cocoanut-husk fires, the acrid smoke of which daunted the nonos.
As well as he could, Comale replaced the cocoanut-husk material, so that it might be a defense as before. Then he went softly around within the house, hunting for any possible hiding-place where the enemy he dreaded might be concealed. "Comale," said his mother, "what are you doing?" And Comale did not dare to hunt any more. He was dreadfully miserable as he lay that night in the darkness.
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