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the first snow, and the weather was bitterly cold. In front of One Eye's cave was a cheery fire, and in the cave itself lay the old man dead. He had died in the night of his great age and of the cold.
Now this is deserving of mention. That when One Eye fled from the great fire, he carried with him but one treasure, and that was neither club, nor spear, nor bow, nor net, but the flat bone upon which his own glorious deeds had been recorded by the clever fingers of No Man.
