One of the elders wanted to see the chieftain and the medicine man one morning. He invited them to his hut. Buroogu and Walai followed the elder’s messenger without a word. “Listen,” he whispered when they squatted next to him, “I have a few things to tell you before I am taken to Mount Ulu, for my days are nearly over.” And then he told them that there were signs that there were many more people around in the past. “Many, many more,” the elder covered his eyes with his hands as if in terror. He told them about discoveries of large huts made of stone in which whole tribes lived right next to each other. “Now the huts are full of bones and strange things that no-one has ever seen,” he whispered. These people perished for some reason, but their world could still be found under mounds crowned by tall trees and thick bushes. “I wanted you to know this,” the old man turned first to the chieftain and then to the medicine man, “because I am afraid that some of our youngsters would learn about this and start looking around for signs of life long dead.” That would be dangerous, he argued with feeling, and everything should be done to detract the young and curious ones from such pursuits. “But keep this a carefully-guarded secret,” the elder sighed. “That old world perished because of its own faults, and we do not want to repeat them.” Buroogu and Walai squeezed the old man’s hands and nodded a few times. “We understand,” they said in unison, “and we will do as you advise.” A few days later, the elder was taken to Mount Ulu by the chieftain and medicine man, as well as several other elders who were strong enough for the climb. As was their habit, vultures started circling above the summit well before the small procession had reached it.