Book1:TeDream-Maker

lingwavessoftlypattingtheshores．Thetwosanganddandfrolickedhappilyalohepygmyughedhisstrange，squeakyugh．Thewomahepygmyhighaboveherheadandspunaroundmadly，likeamotherpyingwithherson．Dimitrishookhisheadagain．"No,no.Thisisn’twhatIwanted.”aledhimselfdowntodreaminear．ItwasadenseforestintheheartofAfricaaspitchdarkasmidnight．Therhythmicbutmonotonousbeatofthedrumarousedinpeopleabarbarousimpulseandtheshoutsofthenativeslentitamysterious，primitiveandterrifyingatmosphere．Dimitriwentintotheforestandcameacrossatemple．Therewereshadowyfiguresofthenativesbeatingdrumsanddangaroundafire．Everynowaheyshoutedtheirbattlecry．Dimitrisawhumanskullsscatteredalloverthefloorawasthehabitatofmaingibals.Therewereskullsofallki