Ah! I have it, but look, Noma, a stone has cut my finger.

I have it, I have it," and from beneath the root of some fallen tree he drew out the skull of a child and, holding it in his right hand, softly rubbed the mould off it with his left.
"Yes, Noma, it might be yours, it is of the right size, but how can I be sure?
What is it you say?
The teeth?
Ah! now I remember.

Only the day before you were taken I pulled out that front tooth, did I not, and beneath it was another that was strangely split in two.

If this skull was yours, it will be there.

Come to the fire, Noma, and let us look; the moonlight is faint, is it not ?" Back to the fire he shifted himself, and bending towards the blaze, made an examination.
"True, Noma, true! Here is the split tooth, white as when I saw it all those years ago.