The men in the village did not know where he came from. One day he was there, standing under the drying racks, his eyes like two soaring hawks as he watched the children at play. Old Bear Teeth went to him but the old one did not speak. He turned and walked back up the mountain. He gave no answers to the questions shouted at his back. He came back again and again. He spoke to no man. He watched the children. The old chiefs spoke of him and they were frightened of this old one who would not speak and whose purpose was unknown. They wrapped their robes about them and muttered. And there were some who would kill the old one. On the day that they decided this thing, the old one came dressed in a faded robe of our clan. Old Bear Teeth went to the strange one again. "Who are you, old one?" The aged one from the mountains looked into the eyes of Old Bear Teeth. His voice was thick and uneasy upon his tongue as if it had slept a long time.
