This waswhere he had unloaded his bundles of raw hides for curing, and where hehad collected the finished product. Penrod thought for a few moments, then snapped his fingers again. They were no longer apair of tiny hedgehogs, but a fierce porcupine rattling steel quills. It was a vaguelyfamiliar sound.
Therewere no more signs of elephant or of the other great game animals. They were of the sameclass as the pigmies. Theylifted it to shoulder height, and bound the fork in place behind hisneck with twisted rawhide ropes. They ran on across the inner courtyard.
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