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"Is it true what they say?" said the brown one. "Caw," said the black one. "Is it true that he cannot live many centuries?" "No, no," said the black one. "Furrow-maker will not die. We must not lose furrow-maker. He has been foolish of late, he has played with smoke and is sick. His engines have wearied him and his cities are evil. Yes, he is very sick.
And Hare went down to the edge of the cities once. He says it too. Man was too sick to chase him. He thinks that Man will die, and his wicked friend Dog with him. Dog, he will die. That nasty fellow Dog. He will die too, the dirty fellow!" "Pigeon and Hare!" said the black one. "We shall not lose furrow-maker." "Who told you he will not die?" his brown friend said.
But in a few centuries he will forget his folly and we shall not lose furrow-maker. Time out of mind he has delved and my family have got their food from the raw earth behind him. He will not die."
"Who told me!" the black one said. "My family and his have understood each other times out of mind. We know what follies will kill each other and what each may survive, and I say that furrow-maker will not die." "He will die," said the brown one. "Caw," said the other. And Man said in his heart: "Just one invention more.
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