He flung it down in front of Shift and stood dripping and shivering and trying to get his breath back. But the Ape never looked at him or asked him how he felt. The Ape wasoo busy going round and round the thing and spreading out and patting it and smelling it. Then a wicked gleam ame into his eye and he said： “It is a lion‘s skin.” “Ee.auh.auh.oh， is it？” gasped Puzzle.
“Now I wonder . . . I wonder . . . I wonder，” said Shift to imself， for he was thinking very hard.
“I wonder who killed the poor lion，” said Puzzle presently. It ought to be buried. We must have a funeral.““Oh， it wasn’t a Talking Lion，” said Shift. “You needn‘t other about that. There are no Talking Beasts up beyond he Falls， up in the Western Wild. This skin must have elonged to a dumb， wild lion.”
This， by the way， was true. A Hunter， a Man， had killed nd skinned this lion somewhere up in the Western Wild everal months before. But that doesn’t come into this ory.
“All the same， Shift，” said Puzzle， “even if the skin only elonged to a dumb， wild lion， oughtn‘t we to give it a ecent burial？ I mean， aren’t all lions rather.well， rather olemn？ Because of you.know.who. Don‘t you see？”