Bulloch. "That is the general sense of their speech."

At that moment the holy Mael clasped his hands and sighed deeply.

"Do you see, my son," he exclaimed, "that madman who with his teeth is
biting the nose of the adversary he has overthrown and that other one
who is pounding a woman's head with a huge stone?"

"I see them," said Bulloch. "They are creating law; they are founding
property; they are establishing the principles of civilization, the
basis of society, and the foundations of the State."

"How is that?" asked old Mael.

"By setting bounds to their fields. That is the origin of all
government. Your penguins, O Master, are performing the most august
of functions. Throughout the ages their work will be consecrated by
lawyers, and magistrates will confirm it."

Whilst the monk, Bulloch, was pronouncing these words a big penguin with
a fair skin and red hair went down into the valley carrying a trunk of a
tree upon his shoulder. He went up to a little penguin who was watering
his vegetables in the heat of the sun, and shouted to him:

"Your field is mine!"

And having delivered himself of this stout utterance he brought down
his club on the head of the little penguin, who fell dead upon the field
that his own hands had tilled.