Title: The wonder stick
Author: Coblentz, Stanton A. (Stanton Arthur)
Language: English
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                           The Wonder Stick

                        By Stanton A. Coblentz

                      Illustrated by S. Glanckoff

                     Cosmopolitan Book Corporation
                               New York
                                MCMXXIX

                          COPYRIGHT, 1929, BY
                          STANTON A. COBLENTZ

                  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED INCLUDING THAT
                 OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES
                  INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN. PRINTED
               IN THE U.S.A. BY J.J. LITTLE & IVES CO.,
                               NEW YORK



                [Illustration: _Grumgra confronts Ru._]



                               CONTENTS


                         I. _Grumgra the Growling Wolf_

                        II. _Ru the Sparrow-Hearted_

                       III. _A Daughter of the Cave_

                        IV. _The Hunt and the Fire_

                         V. _The Migration Begins_

                        VI. _The Wrath of Grumgra_

                       VII. _The Fire-God Speaks_

                      VIII. _A New Misadventure_

                        IX. _Lost!_

                         X. _The Men of the Woods_

                        XI. _The Return of Ru_

                       XII. _The Tale of the Wind-God_

                      XIII. _Ru Accepts the Challenge_

                       XIV. _The Treachery of Yonyo_

                        XV. _The Magic of the River-God_

                       XVI. _The Conflict_

                      XVII. _When Wolf Meets Wolf_

                     XVIII. _The Migration Ends_

                       XIX. _Among the Labyrinths_

                        XX. _From Bad to Worse_

                       XXI. _The Arrival of the Beast-Men_

                      XXII. _The Beast-Men Score_

                     XXIII. _By the Light of the Half-Moon_

                      XXIV. _The Wonder Stick Strikes_

                       XXV. _The Ascension of Ru_

                      XXVI. _Ru the Eagle-Hearted_

                            _Conclusion_



                             ILLUSTRATIONS


                    _Grumgra confronts Ru_

                    _The migration_

                    _Ru frightens the bear with his torch_

                    _Ru hides from the sabertooth_

                    _Ru walks the waters_

                    _Ru plays with Wuff_

                    _The Umbaddu hunters were successful_

                    _The Umbaddu plunged to the attack_



                           THE WONDER STICK



                               CHAPTER I

                      _Grumgra the Growling Wolf_


A hundred thousand years have passed since a certain memorable twilight
in the forest of Umbaddu. Beyond a long ragged ridge of spruce, the
sun went down in forlorn crimson precisely like the suns of a later
day; across the winding valley, with its shaggy woods and age-battered
buttes and cliffs, an enchanted calm had settled, as though time had
ended and there were no other days to come. Only the Harr-Sizz or
Long-Snake River, foaming in tumultuous serpentine along its deep rocky
cañon, persistently broke the silence of the great wilderness; though
now and again the call of some belated bird, or howling of hyena, or
long-drawn, mournful plaint of some lonely wolf, would sound weirdly
and from far away like a voice from another world.

Yet birds, wolves, and hyenas were not the only inhabitants of those
houseless solitudes. Down by the brink of the river, where the waters
had widened for a space to a smooth-flowing glossy expanse, a curious
creature was threshing its way among the dense reeds and bushes. At
the first glance one might have mistaken it for some monstrous beast,
a cousin of the orang-utan or the gorilla; but a second glimpse would
have shown one that it belonged to a more advanced race.

Walking with a pronounced stoop on two massive legs, it reached a
height only slightly below that of a modern man. At its side was slung
a rabbit-skin pouch filled with pebbles, and in its huge right hand
it carried a rough-hewn club the size of a table leg; while its great
barrel-like chest, its short pugilistically thick neck, and enormously
developed arms gave proof of a strength that few moderns could equal.
For clothes it wore only a rudely cut strip of deerskin, which hung
loosely from the broad, curving shoulders not quite to the knees; and
over all the exposed parts of arms, legs, and breast there spread an
unbroken mat of dense black hair.

But most remarkable of all was the creature's face. In features more
beastlike than human, the savagery of the jungle seemed to be warring
with something that was not quite of the jungle, and in spite of the
heavy jowls and apelike jaws there was just a hint of a miracle to
come. The head was large and powerful, the forehead broad but low and
receding, the eyebrows perched on prominent bony ridges that went far
toward giving a brutish aspect. The nose was flat, and the nostrils
broadly dilated, the ears round, protruding and movable, the chin weak
and almost non-existent; the mouth was wide and the teeth ground down
almost to the jaw, while the cheeks, like the rest of the body, were
covered with a wilderness of black hair. And as for the eyes--they were
small and black, and yet keen and brilliantly lighted; and they burned
and sparkled with alert intelligence as their possessor pushed his way
warily through the thicket.

Arriving at the edge of the dense brush, he was confronted by a wall
of rock that shot precipitously upward for hundreds of feet. Even a
mountain-goat might have hesitated before attempting the seemingly
impossible ascent; but the hairy-limbed one did not so much as pause,
though handicapped by the weight of his pouch of pebbles and of his
club. With an air of absolute assurance, he turned a few paces to the
left, then began to scramble up an almost imperceptible little path
that twisted in and about among a jumbled pile of boulders. It was a
sort of natural stairway, though frequently there was a gap of five
or six feet between steps and the man had to lift himself from rock
to rock with much straining and pulling of his huge arms. Sometimes
he stood on ledges so narrow that one misstep would have plunged him
to destruction; sometimes it was not his feet but a powerful clinging
hand that preserved his balance, and one would have expected to see his
fingers slip and his huge form reel and stagger into the abyss. Yet
all the time he betrayed no fear, and continued on his way with the
apparent carelessness of a tight-rope walker.

The last gray of twilight was merging into the blackness of night when
at last the climber paused on a little shelf of rock two-thirds of the
way to the top. Out of a long irregular fissure in the cliff a dim
light was shining, a strange flickering light that might have brought
visions of goblins or ghosts. But the climber was neither surprised
nor alarmed; and after halting for a moment to give his panting heart
time to subside, he uttered a loud, thick-voiced grunt. Instantly, from
some unseen recess in the wall, dozens of responsive voices were raised
in a hoarse, excited chorus; then, after a second or two, the fissure
began to widen, and by the pale, eery illumination the watcher could
distinguish three or four grinning, apelike faces, and six or eight
curving hairy arms that tugged and tugged at a huge, slowly moving
boulder.

Meanwhile the shouts continued, louder and louder, growing and growing
in volume and excitement, until it seemed that hundreds of wildly
agitated voices were clamoring all at once. At the same time, the
tumult grew stranger and stranger, with hollow reverberations as of
men calling from some subterranean grotto; nor did the uproar diminish
before the straining arms had opened a cleft the size of a man's body.
Then suddenly, with a swift contortion of his limbs, the new arrival
slipped through the aperture; and once again the tugging arms were to
be seen, pulling, pulling the boulder back against its fellow rocks.

Soon, on that deserted terrace of the cliff, only the weird, wavering
light was visible through an opening as narrow as when the climber
had arrived. But, from within, a multitude of voices could be heard,
clamoring not quite so tumultuously as before, but chattering steadily
and excitedly, like enthusiastic children who have no end of things to
say.

And just beyond the replaced boulder, in the cavern whence the grinning
faces had appeared, a grotesque spectacle was in progress. To the
modern eye, it would have looked more like a scene from another
planet than of this world--and more striking, perhaps, than the scene
itself would have been the stage on which it was erected. Imagine a
long, curving, irregular gallery, roofed and paved and walled with
smoke-stained rock, in places so low that a man would have to stoop to
pass beneath it, in places arching to an ample vault from which slow
waters eternally drip and drip; imagine the dusky walls adorned with
strange-colored pictures, pictures of animals long extinct, of cave
wolves and cave bears, of mammoths and woolly rhinoceroses; imagine
curious trophies hung side by side with the paintings, and above them,
the skulls and antlers of huge stags, the horns of aurochs, the hides
of wild boars and of mountain-sheep, the teeth of bears and the fangs
of serpents slung into great hideous chains; while at one end a tall
heap of bones, hundreds of which have been split and splintered for the
marrow, bears evidence of many a greedy repast. And picture the whole
scene illuminated from a single source, a great blazing pile of logs
near the mouth of the cavern, so that for a few yards the cave stands
forth clearly revealed, while for its greater length it is obscured in
a vague smoky twilight that gradually gives place to the blackness of
utter night.

Within the cave, all was tumult and confusion. Every shadow seemed to
be populated; and out of every dark recess crawled some hairy form,
with excited voice raised to greet the new arrival. That he was one
of them would have been apparent at a glance; they too were mantled
in furs and skins, whether of the deer, the wild horse, or the bison;
they too were stooping and brawny and covered with hair, with the same
retreating forehead, the same thick neck and powerful jaws, the same
bony eye-ridges and glittering black eyes.

As the newcomer entered, half a dozen long stout arms were flung about
his neck and shoulders, and half a dozen sinewy hands seized him in a
fierce grip of friendship. Then so closely did the swarm press about
him, so furiously did they squeeze and struggle to be near, that one
might have expected him to be crushed or suffocated.

"Welcome back!" they chorused, in a tongue crude as that of a
mid-African savage. "Welcome back, Mumlo the Trail-Finder!"

And in the confusion of voices that ensued, one might have
distinguished little more than a series of guttural clucks and
grunts--"Gru ghra, gru ghra, gru ghra!"--like the murmurings of a
bewildered mob.

Yet that throaty tumult was in reality a pandemonium of joy. "Welcome!
Welcome! Welcome!" rang out the voices--which is as near as the
primitive words can be given a modern equivalent. And mingled with the
greetings, there came a storm of questions: "Where have you been so
long? What have you done? What have you seen? Why are you alone? Where
is Grop the Tree-Climber? and Wamwa the Snake-Eyed?"

So insistent were these inquiries, and so determined was each
questioner to be answered, that the newcomer could only turn in
bewilderment from one to another, mumbling a monosyllable here and a
monosyllable there, but apparently saying nothing to satisfy anyone,
since for some time the confused jabbering continued unabated.

Then with lightning suddenness the tumult ceased. One of the mob
uttered a single frightened monosyllable--and all tongues stopped short
in mid-sentence. A look half of awe, half of actual fear, came across
the grimacing faces; the sharp glittering eyes were all fastened upon
the farther recesses of the cave, from whose midnight fastnesses a huge
shambling form was emerging into the nearer twilight.

"Grumgra the Growling Wolf!" muttered one or two under their breath;
and all drew back as if by instinct as the newcomer sullenly approached.

His great form, in the wavering shadows, seemed truly monstrous and
redoubtable, perhaps more monstrous than the clear radiance of day
would have shown it to be. As compared with his fellows, he was of
enormous build--not less than six feet in height, with gorilla-like
chest, thick-set sinewy limbs, and the solid stocky aspect of one whose
excess weight runs to muscles. His head was large, even in proportion
to his immense frame, and his broad forehead was not quite so low as
those of his kinsmen, although the glowering, ferocious aspect of
his long hairy face, with the exceptionally prominent jaws and high,
tapering cheek-bones, made him even more savage-looking than the
majority. Armed with an oaken club almost as tall as himself, clad in
the hide of a black wolf and adorned with a crown of wolf's teeth, he
was truly a figure to strike terror to the hearts of the timid.

Majestically he stalked toward the firelight, while at his coming his
tribesmen retreated as far as the walls would permit. Within a dozen
paces of the flames, he paused; then, lifting his club ceremoniously
above his head, he uttered a single deep-voiced sound, more like the
bellowing of a bull than the speech of a man. And, at this command,
the cowering mob began hesitatingly to approach him, though all
were careful to keep beyond range of the club. But one of their
number--he who had that evening scaled the cliff and been received
so tumultuously--made bold to step almost within arm's length of the
scowling one, and, without waiting to be bidden, launched into speech.

"O Grumgra, O great chief," he said, "I have done as you have ordered.
I have been many days' travel toward the land of the noonday sun, and
have seen wonderful things and met with queer adventures. And I have
entered a strange bright country, fairer than this country, a strange
and glorious place for our tribe to live. But evil spirits dwell there
and have done wicked things to my companions, for Wamwa the Snake-Eyed
was caught by the deep waters, and Grop the Tree-Climber was caught by
a wild beast--and none of us shall ever see them again!"

At these words a low moan issued from a far corner of the cavern.
But, disregarding the interruption, Grumgra burst out sonorously, in
tones more thunderous than those of his fellows: "Let us thank the
gods of the wood that brought Mumlo back, although he bears us sad
news. But what does the fate of a few men matter? Mumlo has saved us
from the bad spirits that try to destroy us. For a longer time than
any man can remember, our fathers have lived in this cave; but now,
my people, the day comes when we must leave. You know how the winters
have been growing longer and colder; how the sharp winds blow, and the
snow piles thick for many moons, while the great sheets of ice, in the
direction of the storm-wind, creep nearer and nearer every year. And
our game gets scarcer and scarcer, for the mammoth is huge and terrible
and hard to hunt, and the reindeer is wary and fleet, and the woolly
rhinoceros and the wolves and bears are ferocious and kill many of
our people. Yet there are stories in our tribe of a time when great
warmth-loving beasts bathed in our rivers, and when mammoths without
hair roamed in the woods. If we are wise, we may follow these creatures
to warmer lands. And that, as you know, is why we have sent Mumlo the
Trail-Finder to learn what sort of country lies under the noonday sun."

"Let Mumlo tell us what he has seen!" came the voice of one of the men.
"Let Mumlo tell us--"

But instantly the rash one regretted his words. An angry flash came
into the black eyes of the chieftain; with a resounding thud, his
great club smashed against a projecting spur of the cavern wall.

And while the splinters flew in a hundred directions, Grumgra bellowed,
"Mumlo will speak only when I bid him to!" And perversely he added, "I
do not bid him to speak now!"

For a second he paused, as if uncertain of his own intention; then
followed with the growling admonition: "Let him now be fed and given
sleep and rest after his long journey! And let none question him more!
Tomorrow, when the sun is awake again, we shall all gather here and
listen to his story--and then I shall tell you whether we shall leave
the cave or stay!"

And, having issued his ultimatum, he made a sedate about-face; and,
swinging his club commandingly, slouched away into the shadows.



                              CHAPTER II

                       _Ru the Sparrow-Hearted_


The first gray of dawn had barely begun to widen above the eastern
ridges when the people of Umbaddu were once more astir. Great brawny
hands applied themselves again to the boulder at the cavern entrance;
and, through an aperture barely large enough to admit a man, the
inhabitants emerged one by one, each armed with a club, yet each making
his way with apparent ease down the perilous slopes to the river.
Reaching the bank, they flung themselves down at full-length and sucked
in long draughts after the manner of thirsting beasts; following this
they fumbled about among the brush for roots and berries, and at
length, having satisfied their appetites, pulled themselves once more
up the precipitous stairway of the cliff.

Meanwhile, within the cavern, all was activity and life. Several of the
younger men were strenuously hauling in great dead logs through a rear
entrance, which gave directly upon the forest; several half-grown lads
were disposing of the refuse of yesterday's meals by the simple process
of casting it outside the cave door; and scores of the women--who were
clad precisely like the men, and were most easily distinguishable by
their smaller stature and relatively hairless faces--were absorbed
in what might be termed the household pursuits of the time. A few
sat sprawled about nursing hairy infants in full view of all the
tribe; a few were undertaking the vigorous chastisement of unclad
urchins of five or six, who seemed too energetic in flinging flint
chips about the cavern; one or two were casting fagots upon the great
roaring fire, which had to be kept alive both night and day; while a
majority were engaged in culinary duties. One, holding the flayed body
of a rabbit above the flames on a long sharpened stick, was cooking
according to the conventional method; another, busily grinding up nuts
between two flat unpolished pieces of stone, was preparing a sort
of gruel which, when seasoned with crushed grasshoppers and grubs,
was regarded as delicious; still others, equipped with rude mallets,
cleavers, scrapers, and knives of flint, were ripping off the skins
of slaughtered deer, or pounding various edible herbs into a pulp, or
smashing and softening a certain small beanlike seed until it came
within the range of a hardy digestion.

For more than an hour these activities continued without interruption
save for the snorts and snarls which marked the not infrequent
disagreements between tribesmen. Then suddenly, as on the preceding
evening, a portentous hush, almost a paralysis, came over the people;
and out of some hidden recess stalked the great glowering figure
of Grumgra, his club swinging menacingly, his shrewd little eyes
glittering and sparkling like an evil threat.

"Let all our people come here!" he roared, in tones that rang and
echoed angrily in those narrow corridors. "Let them stop whatever they
are doing, and come! Go, call those that are outside! And if anyone
wants to stay away, let him do so--if he dares!"

Here Grumgra twirled the club above his head as if to acquire practice
in swinging it; and his people, needing no second warning, hastily
abandoned their various tasks, and scurried in all directions in
loud-voiced haste. It was not fifteen minutes before the stragglers
had all been called back from the river bank and the entire tribe had
gathered in a semi-circle about the fire.

A weird assemblage they made, those two hundred men, women, and
children, with their heavy-featured, bestial faces, their sinewy,
hide-mantled bodies, and alert, staring black eyes; while the firelight
cast fantastic wavering shadows about them, and in their midst,
dominating them as a cock dominates a flock of hens, a great apelike
figure stood with battered club uplifted in command.

With the abruptness of a thunderclap, the deep bellowing voice burst
forth: "Listen with careful ears to what I say, my people! Many days
ago--more days than the fingers on the hands of three men--I sent Mumlo
the Trail-Finder to the country of the noonday sun. I told him, and
also Grop the Tree-Climber and Wamwa the Snake-Eyed, to look for a
better cave for our tribe. Now he has come back, and we will hear what
he has to tell us."

While the voice of the chieftain still roared and echoed through the
cave, several stout hands seized the unwilling Mumlo and thrust him
toward the firelight.

Standing in front of all his tribesmen, his face illuminated fitfully
by the flames, while two hundred pairs of eyes regarded him solemnly,
he had no choice but to obey Grumgra's command, "Speak, Mumlo! Speak!"

"What would you have me speak of?" he pleaded, gazing with fascinated
interest at the chieftain's club. "There is too much to tell! Wamwa and
Grop and I traveled for days and days through dark forest, and along
green river cañons and over rocky hills. Sometimes we came out upon
wide meadows, and sometimes the land was covered with brush and stones
and was very hard to pass. But we kept on and on, and lived mostly on
roots and berries and the bark of trees, though now and then we feasted
on some small creature we slew with stones or clubs. At night we lit a
fire with our flints to keep the wolves away, and in the day we watched
and watched for wild things, since great and terrible animals filled
the forest, and often we had to climb the trees in a great hurry. And
it was a huge animal that took Grop away from us, for once we came upon
a herd of buffaloes in an open field, and before we could get back to
the woods a mad bull had rushed upon him, and--"

Horrified exclamations interrupted the speaker; but Grumgra, apparently
unaffected, brought his club down warningly upon the floor.

"We are not here to learn what happened to Grop!" he grumbled, with a
foreboding scowl. "We are here to learn about the country you found.
Tell us that, and nothing more!"

"The country that we found," resumed the Trail-Finder, taking care to
put a few additional inches between himself and Grumgra's club, "was
all overgrown with grass and deep forests. It was much warmer than our
own land, and even on the tops of the mountains there was no snow. But
deer and bison and wild boars and horses and cattle browsed there in
large herds; and there were many berries and fruits and nut-bearing
trees. And up among the cliffs above a great river I thought I saw the
entrance to a cave like ours. In crossing this river, Wamwa slipped and
was taken by the bad spirits--"

Again the great club was lifted in a silent threat; and the angry eyes
of Grumgra warned the speaker to keep to his story.

"It would be a very good land for us to live in, O great chief," Mumlo
hastened to add. "When the cold days came, we would not find it so hard
to kill game enough to keep us strong. We would not have to shiver all
the long winter moons, not having fires or furs to make us warm. Our
babes would not die, and our women would not moan and cry for meat we
could not give them; but it would be summer always, and there would
always be warmth and plenty for us all."

And into the eyes of Mumlo for an instant came a contemplative glow,
a half-dreamy light that seemed to belie the heavy jowls and brutish
features, and to foretell the visionary who--a hundred thousand years
later--would still be conjuring up Utopia.

But almost instantly that light died out; the thick lips were curled
into a snarl, and a hoarse growl rumbled from the speaker's throat.
Across from him, in the further rim of the firelight, a bull-like
shaggy form had sprung up with menacing fists upraised, and there came
the muttered challenge: "You lie! You lie! There can be no such land!"

"Quiet, Woonoo!" yelled the chieftain, with an oath. And the club
swung in such deadly earnest that only the extreme agility of Woonoo
saved him from being mangled. As it was, the crash with which the club
struck the cavern floor served as a warning to the overdaring; and the
attempted chastisement was followed by an appalled silence, broken
only by the murmurs of the more audacious: "Just what Woonoo deserved!
Woonoo the Hot-Blooded always is getting into trouble!"

Meanwhile the offender had slunk away into the shadows to the rear,
and, having once tempted destiny, was apparently resolved to take no
further chance.

"Tell us more, Mumlo," encouraged Grumgra, in milder tones than before.
"Tell us more. You think--you think we should all go to the land of the
noonday sun?"

"O great chief, I think we should all go," pleaded the Trail-Finder.
"We hear nothing now but the cries of the hungry, and the groans of
those whom the demons of sickness have taken. You know how our people
are growing fewer and fewer each year. Our old men can tell of a time
when we were many as the days from one spring season till the next;
but for every two that walked in our cave then, there is only one that
walks in it now. And you know, O chief, where the rest are--how many
are sleeping with their women and babes in the burial grotto at the
cavern's end--and how many have left their bones to the cave-bear and
the hyena. You know, O chief, so why should I try to tell you? A few
more ice-cold winters, and the wolves will be crunching the ribs of the
last of our tribe!"

The speaker stopped short, and a horrified silence--broken only by the
crackling logs in the great fire--settled over the entire assemblage.

It was Grumgra's voice that next made itself heard. "Mumlo speaks
well," the leader acknowledged, leaning meditatively upon his club, as
though he had forgotten its aggressive purposes. "Mumlo speaks well--it
is true that we are getting fewer and fewer, for the great frosts are
more than our people can stand, and when the winter comes the wild
beasts seize us, or else some evil spirit creeps near, and we sicken
and die. We do not wish to leave this cave, where our fathers and their
fathers and their fathers before them have lived--but is it not better
to go from our home than to perish?"

Having reached a bellowing climax, Grumgra paused as if to allow his
words time to penetrate. There followed a frightened silence, broken
now by a whispered exclamation of dread, now by a muttered oath of
horror; and this awed speechlessness continued even after Grumgra had
shouted his last words, "What do you say, my people? Tell me, what do
you say?"

For a moment no one said anything at all. And, after a few seconds'
silence, Grumgra lifted his club in a fresh gesture of command.

But at this point, interruption came from an unexpected quarter. Out
of the shadows to the rear a slender form drew forward; and one of the
younger tribesmen--scarcely more than a boy, he seemed--raised his
voice in a manner that compelled attention.

"Let me speak, O chief," he cried, in deep tones almost musical beside
those of his fellows. "Let me speak a very little!"

A scowl came over the dark face of the leader. His right arm drew back
as if to wield the club and crush the intruder.

"What? You speak, Ru?" he roared, derisively. "You, Ru the
Sparrow-Hearted?" And into the jet-like eyes came a hard light as of
disdain tinged with anger and hatred.

"Yes, O chief, I ask to speak," affirmed Ru, coming forward with a
boldness that seemed to belie his name. And placing himself directly
before the chieftain, well within range of the club, he stood like a
deliberate challenge between Grumgra and the people.

A greater contrast than the two men presented could hardly have been
imagined--at least, not in those primeval days. Physically Ru was
slight as his opponent was gigantic; he stood scarcely over five feet
in height; and his frame, while well knit and evidently equipped
with strong and flexible muscles, had none of Grumgra's gorilla-like
amplitude, but was slender as a sapling and had apparently been
designed for grace rather than for power. At a single stroke, Grumgra
might have crushed and mangled him like a fly--yet the difference
between the two men was not wholly physical. For there was something
about Ru's face which seemed to atone for that which his body
lacked. Like Grumgra, he had the characteristic hairy features, the
characteristic eyebrow ridge, tapering cheek-bones and massive jaws of
his tribe; but, unlike Grumgra, he seemed to possess some indefinable
quality that tempered his inherent brutishness. His forehead did not
recede like those of his tribesmen, but was straight and high as
that of a modern; his face was long and sagacious-looking, and his
head unusually capacious; while his eyes--queer anomaly among that
dark-pigmented race!--were not black like those of all the other
Umbaddu, but gleamed shrewdly with a steel-gray glint!

And with a courage unique among the Umbaddu, those gray eyes firmly met
the black ones of the chieftain. Perhaps it was the very audaciousness
of their gaze that restrained Grumgra, for his club, though half
uplifted, did not descend upon the daring one; but in tones of
irritation and contempt he muttered: "Then tell us, Ru! Tell us what
you have to say! But tell us very quickly!"

And while Ru turned to address the multitude, derisive hisses sounded
from dozens of voices; and in tones half of laughter, half of mockery,
some of the more garrulous murmured: "Ru is going to speak! The
Sparrow-Hearted is going to speak! Listen to the Sparrow-Hearted give
advice!"

But above the cackling of the audience rose the clear voice of Ru:

"It is true, my people, that we must leave this cave, where our tribe
has lived since the beginning of things. But it is not true that we
must leave without knowing where we are going. Mumlo the Trail-Finder
has been to a land which he says is fairer than this--but that does not
show us that our whole tribe can follow. Two of our companions have
already been lost, and many more may go the same way unless we are
careful. For we are not very strong after all, my people. Remember the
huge mammoths and the bears that roam the land; the storms that beat
about us with cruel clubs; the torrents that race down upon us and bear
us away; the great cold of winter, and the famine that is worse than
the cold. If we are to live at all, we must be wiser than our foes. We
must--"

At this point a low undercurrent of hissing, gradually becoming louder,
compelled the speaker to pause. And a score of hostile, curling lips
snarled the question: "What are we to do? Tell us, Ru, what are we to
do? Shall we stay here and starve?"

Simultaneously, a half-suppressed, contemptuous laughter broke from
some unseen spectator. And it was with difficulty that Ru could lift
his voice above that of the gibbering, chuckling mob, and continue:

"It may be that Mumlo has not seen all the land he has visited, or that
he would not know how to find his way back there again. Or it may be
that there is some other land much fairer--some land where we could all
grow strong and happy. And why should we not do everything we can to
find out?"

Then, turning to Grumgra, who loomed before him with a hostile frown,
Ru pleaded: "Let us not act like foolish children, O chief. Send out
some other men--as many as the fingers of one of my hands. Let them
look at the country Mumlo saw, or try to find some better place. I
myself will go gladly, if only you will say yes."

"No!" thundered the chieftain. "I say no!" And the great club came down
with an echoing thud, and sent the dust of the cave floor flying.

Hastily Ru withdrew, lest a second blow wreak greater havoc. And as he
pressed back into the shadows, derisive murmurs filled the air; and
many a pair of black eyes, glistening in malice and scorn, followed him
with proud, superior gaze.

"The Sparrow-Hearted has had his say!" came the amused roar of Grumgra.
"Now let me have my say. We will not let the bad spirits take any more
lives on foolish journeys. And we will not waste any more time--the
gods of the spring season have been here a whole moon already. After
the sun has come up and gone down and then come up once more, we will
all set forth into the land of the noonday sun. What do you say, my
people?"

Since there was none that dared to say a word, but all merely gaped
and gaped in stupid bewilderment, the most momentous question in the
history of the Umbaddu had apparently been decided.



                              CHAPTER III

                       _A Daughter of the Cave_


Ru the Sparrow-Hearted did not remain to hear Grumgra's final words.
Hurt in a manner that he himself could hardly understand, he shambled
away into the farther darkness, picking his course along winding,
coal-black passages with a certainty that only perfect familiarity
could have made possible.

At length, out of the dusky distance, there shone a feeble light,
flickering uncannily as a phantom. Gradually it brightened, until by
the dim radiance Ru could distinguish the curving low-roofed outlines
of the cavern, whose walls were irregular and misshapen as though
carved by some egregious blunder of nature. But he kept on without
paying any heed to those well-known formations; and finally, after
rounding a sudden turn, he found himself face to face with a log
fire--a much smaller fire than that at the farther end of the cavern,
and yet large enough to shed a comfortable light and warmth.

With a thankful sigh, Ru flung himself down into a little hollow in the
rock across from the fire. And there, curled up like a cat basking in
the sunlight, he lay motionless for many minutes, staring with wide,
contemplative eyes into the writhing flames.

Strange thoughts kept trailing through his mind--thoughts that stung
and tortured and would leave him no peace. Why must he always call
forth his people's raillery and jests? Was it only because his limbs
were small and his eyes were gray? Had he not done that which none of
them could do? Had he not, as the reward of many days of labor, hewed
out this hollow in the cavern wall, where he might lie in comfort while
his tribesmen lay on the rocky floor? And had he not built his own
fire, and even made a chimney in the rock above, that he might have
warmth and light while his fellows had only the dark and cold? And
had he not made a club more powerful than any other of its size, by
tipping it with flint while they used only wood? And had he not shaped
and sharpened his flint knives and cleavers till they worked twice as
easily as those his tribesmen used? And was he not even now planning
that which no man had planned before--a weapon that would strike like
lightning, and slay at a great distance?

As the thought of the new weapon came into his mind, Ru reached
meditatively for a long, slender shaft of wood that lay concealed
in a crevice between two rocks. It was little more than the thin,
wiry trunk of a young tree, denuded of branches and leaves; but a
crude perforation at each extremity showed the clear mark of human
workmanship; and the dried tendrils of a fibrous plant, stretched
loosely between the two ends of the shaft, gave evidence of what the
young artizan was attempting.

Forgetting his resentment at the injustice of his tribe, Ru began to
apply himself to his invention. First he stood with one end of the
shaft pressed against the cavern floor, and strained and pushed with
his right hand until the wood was bent outward in a wide curve; then
he strained and pulled with his left to draw the tendril of the plant
tightly from end to end of the shaft.

He had almost succeeded, when the tendril snapped and the wood shot out
and straightened with a force that sent him reeling against the cavern
wall.

Less bruised than angered, he was picking himself up, when a low merry
giggling rang out of the darkness behind him. And even without turning
he recognized the voice of Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed.

"So the Sparrow-Hearted is still playing his pranks?" laughed the
newcomer, in tones that betrayed as much of malice as of good-natured
gaiety.

And there stood before him, in the smoky firelight, she who of
all women in the world was for him the most beautiful, the most
tantalizing, and the most wrath-provoking. To the eye of a later age,
she might not have proved seductive--but to the untrained eye of Ru she
represented the acme of all things desirable and unattainable. Clad in
a glossy robe of horsehide, with her full, well-rounded breasts and
her muscular legs exposed, she bore on every feature the impress of
her tribe--the massive head, the low, wide forehead and bony eyebrow
ridges, the large, flexible ears, the powerful jaws and huge flat
nose. But in her wily black eyes--somewhat larger than those of her
kinsmen--there gleamed and glittered a strange, alluring light that
set her off from all the other women of the tribe. When she smiled,
Ru felt that a wonderful fire shone over her whole face, so that he
would forget that she was a mere human like himself, but would think of
wild flowers unfolding in the spring fields, and blue lakes twinkling
beneath blue skies, and rainbows and stars and the song of birds.

Ru did not know why he had such thoughts on seeing Yonyo, for he had
never heard any of his brothers speak of like feelings. Nor did he
know why the very sight of Yonyo made him tremble as the sight of no
other woman could do, so that he was often sad when she was away, and
was filled with strange, disturbing longings when she was near. All
this Ru did not understand, but he did understand very well that Yonyo
would never be his woman--for did she ever seem glad when he spoke
gentle words to her? And did she ever smile upon him except to mock?
Besides, was she not coveted by Woonoo the Hot-Blooded and Kuff the
Bear-Hunter?--And could he swing a club so well as these great rivals
of his, and win his bride in an open fight?

With the anger of the baffled, he turned upon Yonyo; and there was no
gentleness in his voice as he met her taunting question: "Yes, Yonyo,
I am still playing my pranks. And there will come a day when the tribe
will beg to play them with me! You, too!--even you, the tormenting and
the Smiling-Eyed!"

A low burst of scornful laughter came as her reply. And pointing toward
the shaft of wood, which he still held in his hand, she demanded
contemptuously: "Is it with that stick that you will make us play your
pranks? Tell me, Ru, is it a wonder stick?"

"Yes, it is a wonder stick!" flung back Ru, choking down an impulse to
seize his bright-eyed tantalizer and force her to her knees before him,
until she cried for mercy and the tears came.

For a moment he stood confronting her in a glaring silence, while the
sparks danced about her and the flames fitfully illuminated her tanned
hairless face.

And then, seized with a longing to make her understand, to make her
share his own enthusiasm, Ru reiterated: "It is a wonder stick, Yonyo!
Listen, and I will tell you about it!"

"Yes, tell me," she murmured, somewhat subdued by his earnestness,
although ridicule still shone in her eyes.

"Have you never gone roaming among the bushes and shrubs, Yonyo?" he
demanded, speaking with a fury born partly of the bright appeal in her
face, and partly of the breathless interest of a great discovery.
"Have you never noticed how one may twist and bend the small shoots,
so that they will swish back with terrible force? I was wondering,
Smiling-Eyed, if I could stretch a stout fiber between the ends of one
of those shoots. Then I could bend and hold it so that it would swish
back whenever I wanted. And it might throw a sharp stick through the
air like a rock, and make a weapon that would strike from far away--"

"And strike those foolish thoughts from your head!" derided Yonyo,
bursting again into laughter.

Ru, cut short at the climax of his discourse, felt a renewed impulse to
seize and throttle her.

But perhaps she divined his intention, for with a scornful, "The
Sparrow-Hearted has need of new weapons!" she went darting down the
shadowy passageway, and in a moment had disappeared around a bend, her
mocking laughter ringing merrily behind her.

Within Ru's breast a choking anger arose; and her flight was like a
challenge to follow. With furious eyes and fast-heaving heart he set
off in pursuit, filled by a blind desire to seize the elusive one and
crush her madly to him.

But she was swift of foot, and in those dark corridors he could not
even see her flying form. Only her laughter, echoing merrily through
the gloom, told him that she was not far beyond; and such was his
frenzy that he had little thought of possible danger, but dashed ahead
despite the risk of stumbling over some unseen rock or depression in
the cavern floor.

Yet not until he had approached the great fire at the cave entrance did
he see her again. Then, still with a smile upon her taunting face, she
stood gleefully awaiting his arrival. But she was not alone--just ahead
of her, overshadowing her like a protective tower, stood Woonoo the
Hot-Blooded!

And from the ugly thick lips of the giant there issued a menacing
snarl; and the bull-like form advanced with powerful arms outspread to
seize and strangle his adversary.

Knowing better than to risk a conflict, Ru merely answered his
opponent's challenge growl for growl, while backing away at no
inconsiderable speed. Then, when suddenly the Hot-Blooded tired of
delay and started toward him with a swift ferocious lunge, Ru turned
and raced furiously back into the shadows.

And merry was the tittering of Yonyo, as she witnessed the rout of
the weakling. And merry was the laughter of the tribespeople as they
watched Ru's hasty retreat, and murmured: "See the Sparrow-Hearted
run! How well the Sparrow-Hearted runs!" But dark indeed was the gloom
within the heart of Ru when at length he had outdistanced his rival and
slouched sulkily back to his lonely fire in the loneliest, farthest
corner of the cave.



                              CHAPTER IV

                        _The Hunt and the Fire_


On the day preceding the tribe's departure for the land of the noonday
sun, two important preparations were made.

First of all, a mighty hunt was arranged. All the able-bodied men--and
they numbered nearly a hundred--set out together for their favorite
hunting-ground, where they stationed themselves at intervals in a rude
circle about a strip of field and forest two or three square miles in
extent. Then, at the signal of the chieftain's shout relayed from man
to man, the hunters started at a trot toward the center of the circle,
meanwhile yelling and clamoring at the top of their lusty voices and
raising a hullabaloo that might have awakened the dead.

Needless to say, any animals roaming within the chosen area would
take alarm. Some, wild with fear, would endeavor to dash past the
huntsmen, and not a few of these would offer a target for clubs and
stones; a majority, driven toward the center of the enclosure, would
find themselves hemmed in by an ever-tightening ring of their foes.
If they could not save themselves by a desperate flight through the
encompassing lines--as many did, in fact, save themselves--they would
be forced irresistibly toward the four or five pits in the center
of the closing circle. And since these had been dug with careful
forethought and shrewdly covered with concealing branches and grass,
the victims would topple headlong into the ten-foot depths; and there,
bellowing with fear or howling with pain, a mass of convulsive,
twisting forms and broken limbs, they would present an easy mark for
the clubs of their persecutors.

On this particular day, the Umbaddu hunters were unusually successful.
Two wild boars, a wild horse, four wild cattle, half a dozen rabbits,
a score of squirrels, a doe and a fawn of the giant deer, a half-grown
moose and a young rhinoceros--these constituted their trophies of
the chase. Now they would have meat in plenty for days and days to
come! And the penalty for this gigantic haul had been exceptionally
small--not a man had been killed, though the shoulder of Kuff the
Bear-Hunter had been ripped open by an infuriated wildcat, and Ru had
earned the mirth of his fellows by taking to the trees and saving
himself by the bare fraction of an inch before the charge of a maddened
aurochs.

The victims, once dispatched, were skinned and cut up on the spot;
and this was a long and laborious process, for the flint knives and
scrapers worked slowly and clumsily and with a vast amount of wasted
effort. Much of the booty, indeed, had to be left where it lay as an
offering to the wolves and vultures; yet when the hunters at last set
off homeward, each was weighed down to capacity with the flesh, hides,
and marrowbones of the slaughtered.

And with what a tumult they were received when, having scaled the
cliff walls, they stood once more at the cave entrance! One would have
thought they were warriors returning from the conquest--the women
greeted them with screams of delight; they shouted with childish glee
at sight of the fresh stores of food; their great broad faces grinned
with apelike grimaces, and their heavy lips smacked with anticipatory
joy. And every returning huntsman was welcomed by some particular
woman, who smiled admiration at him from her beady black eyes--every
huntsman, that is, with two exceptions.

The first exception was Grumgra, who was greeted by a circle of three
or four congratulatory females. And the second was Ru, whose return
seemed not to be noticed at all, but who stood by sullenly and alone,
while his boisterous fellows shouted loud stories of their exploits,
and the Smiling-Eyed pressed healing herbs to the wounded shoulder of
Kuff the Bear-Hunter.

After the tumult had begun to die away, the women busied themselves in
holding great sizzling joints above the fire and in laying out smaller
joints to smoke. And now the tribe began its second preparation for the
departure.

This event was signalized by the arrival of Zunzun the Marvel-Worker.
While the returned huntsmen sprawled in ungainly attitudes about the
fire or crouched upon their haunches with heads bent motionless above
their knees, a flutter of excitement stirred the farther recesses of
the cavern, and a squat, sinewy form slowly emerged. At first sight
there was nothing to distinguish the newcomer from his kinsmen, except
that his stoop was extreme even among this race of stooping men--he
bent forward like an anthropoid ape, with long arms dangling before
him from sloping shoulders. But as he shambled into the firelight, one
might have observed another point of distinction; for while his massive
face and gorilla-like features were not less bestial than those of his
fellows, his black shaggy mane was interspersed and mellowed by hairs
of gray. For Zunzun was quite old--he had more years, some said, than
the month had days--and it was rumored that his memory reached back to
the time when the eldest among his living tribesmen was a babe suckling
its mother's breast.

As he approached, the onlookers automatically ceased their chattering;
and in unconscious unison they all sat up, with eyes fastened upon him.

When within a few paces of the fire, Zunzun paused, flung his hands
upward, and launched forth upon a prayer to the fire-god. In deep,
bellowing tones, which resounded uncannily through those dim rocky
corridors, he begged the spirit of the flames to take care of his
people and protect them from wild beasts and the storm-wind. And the
blazes, which flashed and crackled gustily, seemed to be signaling
an encouraging reply; the flickering sparks gaily spoke a bright
message; and the glowing faces of the people, obscurely seen in that
smoky gloom, were overspread with a light and a fervor like that of
worshipers in a temple.

On and on Zunzun rambled, on and on in tones constantly more charged
with emotion; and he told the fire-god of all that his people had
suffered, and how they languished and grew thin in the long months of
winter, and how they craved a warmth and plenty they had never found,
and how they always begged the god of the sunshine to beam upon them
with more light and heat--but how the god of the sunshine had never
heard.

Before Zunzun had finished, his gleaming black eyes had grown soft and
moist, and his plea was no longer a solitary one, but rather was spoken
in chorus. At first singly, and then in groups, his hearers joined him,
all shouting their appeal to the fire-god, and all taking care to shout
their loudest, so that the god must pause and listen. For a while--so
intense was the fervor of the people--one could have heard nothing but
a din of discordant screams and yells, in which no single word was
distinguishable. But after a time, sobered by something domineering in
the tones of Zunzun, the straining voices were modulated and blended
together, so that they clamored in a sort of rude rhythm, almost a
chant of entreaty; and, following the lead of the Marvel-Worker, they
chorused: "Hear us, O fire-god, hear us! Light us the way to warmer
lands! Fill our days with feasts and make them comfortable! Let your
great heat singe and kill our foes, the wolf, the bear, and the wind
from the snow-land! Help us, O fire-god, for we are in need of you!"

And after the voices had stormed and pleaded for many minutes, at times
wailing in anguish and at times rising to a sobbing crescendo, Zunzun
finally snapped into silence--and the tumultuous mob followed his lead,
though now many eyes were tear-stained, and many eyes shone with an
unwonted brightness.

But grave were the tones of Zunzun as he eloquently beckoned toward the
flames, and murmured: "Now surely, my people, the fire-god has heard
us. So let us ask him if he is of a mind to do as we wish."

In contrast to the pandemonium of a moment before, an absolute
stillness had come over the assemblage. A hundred pairs of black eyes
were staring questioningly at Zunzun; a hundred mouths were agape with
wonder, but uttered no word. Even Grumgra the Growling Wolf stood as if
transfixed, and had nothing to say; even Woonoo the Hot-Blooded and Bru
the Scowling-Faced watched meekly as babes and ventured not a grunt,
while the awe in their gaze was equal to that in the gaze of a child.

Meanwhile the Marvel-Worker was performing a curious ceremony. Bending
down to the ground, he scooped a half-burnt oaken limb out of the
flames; then, having beaten out the last trace of fire, he began to
examine it with slow and painstaking scrutiny. Just what there was
to observe was more than any onlooker could have said, but Zunzun
apparently saw plenty to inspect, for he regarded that charred bit of
wood with the furrowed brow and intent expression of one who reads some
puzzling but important document. And at length--while his fellows still
stood gazing at him in silence--he nodded his head as if satisfied,
rose slowly to a stooping position, and opened his mouth to speak.

"The fire-god says he is here with us," he declared, reassuringly. "He
has heard our plea, and will go with us to help us on our long journey."

At this a thankful tumult burst forth; and many were the murmurs
of gratitude and relief. Some of the hearers, in their joy, threw
congratulatory arms about their neighbors' necks; others literally
howled with delight; one or two attempted a sort of rude, sidling
dance; and more than one voice was uplifted to praise the name of
Zunzun the Marvel-Worker.

But amid that happy demonstration, there came a single dissenting
note. "How do you know? How do you know, Zunzun?" rang forth a clear
voice--the voice of Ru. "Just what did the fire-god say? And how did
you find out?"

But his words were drowned amid a chorus of hisses and jeers; and the
Marvel-Worker, casting a disdainful glance in the direction of his
challenger, did not deem it necessary to reply.

Instead, turning to address the people, he directed: "Let us show our
thanks to the fire-god. Let us all make him an offering."

And every man, woman and child snatched up dried fagots and twigs and
flung them into the flames, with fervid cries of "Thank you, fire-god!
May the fire-god burn forever!"

And the fire, as if in gratitude, flared and crackled more vigorously
than ever; and all the assembled people joined hands in a mighty circle
about the flames, and began to swing back and forth, back and forth,
and leap and caper like children, while shouting with religious zeal,
"Thank you, fire-god! We will always serve you and bear you offerings!
May the fire-god burn forever!"



                               CHAPTER V

                        _The Migration Begins_


The day of the migration had dawned. The last rites had been performed;
the Umbaddu people were leaving their ancestral dwelling-place. Some
among the tribesmen had paused to look with sadness at those dark and
picture-littered walls that they should never see again; some had
gone to place flint weapons and chunks of meat in the burial grotto
at the cavern's end, where lay the bones of loved ones; some had cast
the horns of bison, the teeth of bears and patches of bearskin about
the cavern floor, as an offering to the cave-gods whom they were
deserting; some--and these were all members of the milder sex--had made
themselves objects of ridicule by indulging in orgies of tears; while
a majority--particularly of the younger tribesmen--shouted in sheer
exultation, since before them lay the open world, the unknown, and
adventure.

It was a curious procession that made its way down from the
cliff-dwelling and out along the wilderness trail. Women with babes in
arms and tenacious two-year-olds clinging to their shoulders; men laden
with trailing limbs of deer and cattle, and with pouches bulging with
roots, herbs, and berries; scrawny children that released themselves
like acrobats from rock to rock, and from time to time screamed and
howled as they slipped upon the boulders--such were the leading members
of that little army of migrants. Owing to the mass of provisions, of
weapons and flint implements that had to be transported, many of the
men and women had to ascend and descend the cliff three or four times;
and so many were the delays, the minor mishaps and altercations, that
the morning was half done before the tribe was actually on its way.

Led by Grumgra, who wielded his club imperiously, the people straggled
in single file on a little trail made long before by huntsmen along the
cañon of the Harr-Sizz River. Like their leader, all the men carried
clubs, though Grumgra's was by far the largest; and not a few of the
women likewise bore clubs, and moreover swung them in a manner that
indicated some proficiency in the art of self-defense. But the women,
for the most part, were impeded by the weight of the heavy tools and
provisions, which the men had thrust upon them following the descent
of the precipice; and these were slung in great masses about their
shoulders, exaggerating their natural stoop and making their gait
slow and laborious. Only a few of the younger women--such as Yonyo
the Smiling-Eyed and Lum the Twittering Bird--were exempted from such
duties; and this was because, not being subject as yet to any man, they
were not compelled to share any man's exertions.

But in spite of the burdens that weighed them down, most of the people
were in a merry mood. Some, in voices deep-toned and rude and yet
with the trace of a pleasing rhythm, improvised snatches of song,
which their comrades caught up in a riotous chorus; others would go
meandering carelessly away from the trail to examine any curious
insect, rock, or weed; and a few of the younger tribesmen engaged in
uproarious games of hide-and-seek, and even in good-natured but quite
energetic scuffles and wrestling bouts.

Meanwhile several men designated by Grumgra went scouting ahead of
the party, to both sides of it, and behind it, to discover if there
was any sign of dangerous beasts. With a keenness of eyesight rivaled
only by the savages of a later day, they would scan the river bank
and the underbrush for the footprints of wolf and bear; and with a
keenness of scent that their successors might have marveled at and
admired, they would occasionally put their nostrils close to earth
and sniff appraisingly. Only once--when the alert senses of Mumlo the
Trail-Finder told of the recent passage of the woolly rhinoceros--was a
word of alarm flashed to the tribe; but the beasts had evidently gone
their way in peace, and before many minutes the people had entirely
forgotten the danger.

[Illustration: _The migration_]

Mile on mile they plodded, on and on with scarcely a stop, in and
out and in and out along the bank of the deviously winding Harr-Sizz
River. In places the cliffs shot perpendicularly above them to an
unscalable height; in places the hills rolled toward them in a long
graceful grade, dark-green with an impenetrable growth of pine or
spruce; in places they lost sight of the river and the river bluffs
in forcing their way through thorny thickets of the wild rose, or
in hewing a path through an enveloping wilderness of creepers and
vines. Now and then, through some cleft in the hills, they would catch
glimpses of far-flung and majestic panoramas, with chiseled snow-peaks
jutting in the distance; and once, when an entire mountain stood
unbared at the far end of a long, deep-cloven ravine, they could see
that the ranges were more than half cloaked in glittering bands of
white.

Yet such spectacles had small effect on the minds of the migrants. All
their lives they had known these scenes--and they thought no more about
them than about the blue of the skies or the white of foaming waters.
Only one of their number--Ru the Sparrow-Hearted--peered at those snowy
summits with contemplative eyes; and into the mind of Ru came strange
and perplexing thoughts. He wondered whether the spirits worshiped by
his tribe were big enough to rule this world of wind and cloud and
crag; somehow, in those gigantic slopes and forest-draped solitudes,
he felt vaguely the workings of forces vaster than he, and recognized
hazily the presence of a Mystery he could never explain, a Glory of
which he was part and which enveloped him.

For many minutes he had been walking soberly by himself, not taking
notice of his tribesmen that trailed ahead of him and behind, not
taking notice even of his own club that dragged in the dust, nor of
the gap in his rabbit-skin pouch, through which from time to time some
implement would drop noiselessly to the soft grass and be lost. He
had forgotten for the time about the migration, forgotten that he was
following a perilous trail; into his mind had come faint glimmerings of
enigmas that would still be vexing his kind a hundred thousand years to
come....

A sharp prodding in the neck aroused him abruptly to an awareness of
himself. And, wheeling about in anger as fierce as it was sudden, he
was confronted by the sparkling, roguish glance of Yonyo.

Then, while he stood glaring at her in speechless rage, she
waved a pointed twig derisively in his face, and exclaimed: "The
Sparrow-Hearted has need of something to wake him up! What was the
Sparrow-Hearted dreaming about?"

For a moment he did not reply. His impulse was to strike back as one
strikes back when dealt a brutal blow--to seize her in furious arms,
and crush her till she begged for mercy. And no doubt it was thus that
Kuff the Bear-Hunter or Woonoo the Hot-Blooded would have disposed of
her; but Ru, alas! was not Kuff or Woonoo, and could do no more than
glower ineffectively at her.

"What was the Sparrow-Hearted dreaming about?" she repeated, growing
impatient at his silence.

"About things you could never understand!" he declared, fiercely.

"What is there I could not understand?" demanded the incredulous
Yonyo. And seeing those large black eyes bent upon him half laughingly
and half inquiringly, he felt his wrath slipping from him and an old
strange emotion returning.

As his anger died away, it occurred to him to try to make her share
that which he felt.

"Shall I tell you, Yonyo?" he asked, while side by side they began to
jog along the forest path, their feet noiselessly pressing the carpet
of dead leaves. "Shall I tell you?"

Receiving a mumbled affirmative in reply, he launched straightway into
his explanation.

"I was wondering," he continued, slowly, while reflecting how marvelous
was the light in the gaze of the Smiling-Eyed, "whether, after all, the
wise men of our tribe can know all things. I was wondering whether the
world was really made by the magic of a fire-god that lived in a cave
as big as a whole mountain, as the old stories tell us; and whether
there may not be other gods than the fire-god and the sun-god and the
gods of the caves and woods and winds. Why were we born, Yonyo, and why
do we live, and why--"

"And why ask foolish questions?" broke in the puzzled Yonyo. "What are
you thinking about, Ru? Why worry about such things?--Let the wise men
settle them for us!"

Then, seeing that Ru remained sullen and silent, she bent down and
plucked a weed from the wayside, and began to prick him prankishly upon
the cheek. And when, annoyed, he tried to snatch the weed from her, she
eluded his grasp and darted away with eyes that flashed a challenge to
follow.

Without knowing why, except that she drew him on irresistibly, Ru let
his club slip to the ground and dashed after her.

Strangely enough, she was not hard to overtake. In a very few seconds,
he had come up to her, and had flung his arms about her in a crushing
grip.

"Yonyo! Yonyo!" he murmured, with a boldness that surprised himself not
less than her. "I want you! I want you! Oh, will you not be my woman,
and share my fire with me, and--"

But, with the agility of a young leopard, she had struggled free of his
embrace.

"I?--be your woman?" she demanded, standing proudly before him, her
nostrils distended with anger. "Who are you--Ru the Sparrow-Hearted?
Who are you? The man whose woman I am must be a real man! He must be a
hunter of wolves!--not of earthworms! He must have slain his bears, his
wild boars, his aurochs! And he must not be a dreamer of silly dreams!"

And, with a scornful laugh, Yonyo started away again.

Stung to fury, Ru raced after her once more--but he had gone scarcely
ten paces when there came a warning rustling through the bushes ahead,
and a massive hairy figure burst menacingly upon him.

It was Kuff the Bear-Hunter, who, even with his wounded shoulder, made
a formidable antagonist. His little black eyes gleamed with evil wrath;
his enormous thick lips were curled into a snarl that displayed the
white glistening teeth; his great arms were outspread as if to mangle
and destroy.

With a hasty glance at his onrushing foe, Ru turned and fled. And, as
he scurried into the shelter of a thicket of reeds, the laughter of
Yonyo was flung after him like a blow.

For the rest of that day, Ru kept to himself. He did not seek to join
the chattering, frolicsome groups of young folk; he did not trudge
side by side with any of his elder tribesmen in amiable fellowship;
he plodded in morose silence along those gaily echoing forest lanes.
Only now and then, when some small boy or girl would approach and coax
him to some playful tussle, would his intense gravity relax; but it
would relax only partially, and after a minute he would again succumb
to gloomy reveries. Why had he been made so small of stature, so frail
of limb? he asked himself over and over again, as he had asked time
on time before. Why could he not stand face to face with his rivals,
and fight them as any but himself would have done? Must he always be
like the slinking hyena, which keeps at a distance and disdains equal
combat? Must he be powerless to control even his own will? and, having
decided to face his persecutors, must he find himself racing away
ratlike at the first hostile scowl?

Such thoughts were still filling Ru's mind when at length the day's
march ended. The sun was just beginning to dip its head beyond a dark,
distant ridge of forest when Grumgra, bellowing at the top of his
voice, gave the order to halt. At first he did not seem certain what
camping-place to choose; and there was manifest indecision in his tiny
black eyes as he scanned the broken line of woods that paralleled the
stream, the green flowery meadow that stretched between the forest and
the river bank, and the jutting cliffs perhaps half a mile down-stream,
where forest and meadow gave place to a rocky cañon through which the
waters foamed tumultuously.

Then, while scores of his kinsmen stood regarding him speechlessly but
with anxious eyes, the chieftain suddenly decided: "We shall camp here
in the open fields. And build a ring of fire to keep away the wild
beasts."

In silence the people received this command--in silence, with only one
exception. For while Woonoo and Kuff and the others heard and prepared
to obey, he who was known as the Sparrow-Hearted strode forward, and in
loud tones requested, "O chief, may I speak a little?"

For reply, Grumgra merely snarled. His little eyes gleamed with angry
fires; he grasped his club with ominous firmness.

Although the distance between them was hazardously narrow, Ru seemed
to assume that the Growling Wolf's snarl was consent. In a voice loud
enough for all the tribe to hear, he demanded: "Are the fields safe, O
chief? Would it not be wiser to camp under the cliffs? Then it would be
easier to keep the wild beasts off--"

But he could proceed no further. Howling with rage and swinging the
club as if to do instant murder, Grumgra strode toward the impudent
one. And once again Ru had to save himself by means of his feet. And
once again the tribe laughed loud and merrily.

Now came the most trying of all the day's exertions. While the men went
off into the forest in groups of three and four to gather firewood,
the women busied themselves with pieces of flint which they hammered
laboriously together time after time until at last the eagerly awaited
spark kindled a pile of dead leaves. Many minutes were passed in this
pursuit, and twilight was settling down, before at last half a dozen
fires, fed from the limbs of fallen trees, were blazing with bright and
heartening gusto.

Within the line of the fires--which were arranged in a rude
circle--were assembled all the men and women of the tribe, who lay
sprawled on their robes of bison and deerskin, chattering contentedly
and noisily consuming huge chunks of smoked venison or newly roasted
morsels of boar's flesh. Now and then one would leave to go down to
the river bank for a long draft of water, which he would suck in
animal-like; but as the darkness deepened, such departures became less
frequent, and at length ended entirely, for all knew better than to
venture away from the fire into the perils of the night.

Twilight had not yet fallen when a loud sobbing, from the extreme end
of the encampment, aroused the attention of the curious. One of the
younger women was weeping as women in those days seldom wept, her whole
frame shaking convulsively, her dark eyes a blur of tears. And to those
who questioned her she could not give coherent reply. She could only
blurt out disconsolately, "My Malgu! My Malgu!" and return at once to
her stormy grieving.

But there was little need to explain. It was known that Malgu was her
three-year-old son; and as there was no sign of him now, it was assumed
that he had been lost on the way to camp. And this could mean but one
thing. Considering the wolves, bears, hyenas, and other carnivores that
infested the woods, there was little chance that anyone would see Malgu
again.

So the people merely shrugged their shoulders, as sensible people do
when told of some regrettable incident. And since there was nothing to
be gained by lamentations, they turned straightway to more pressing
affairs. After a few minutes, only a low, half-stifled moaning told of
the bereaved mother's grief; and two hundred voices were prattling as
gaily as though Malgu had never been.

As night settled down, a great weariness overcame the people. One by
one they wrapped themselves in their furs and hides, placed themselves
as near as possible to the fire, curled up snail-like so as to retain
all possible warmth, and surrendered themselves to slumber. And it was
not long before a series of hearty snores replaced the garrulous voices
of the early evening.

But there were some who were not permitted to sleep. Six men,
designated by Grumgra to keep the fires alive and at the same time
watch for prowling beasts, were to do duty until midnight, when they
would be replaced by six of their kindred.

Among the earlier group of sentinels, the first to be named was Ru--who
clearly owed his choice to his presumption in questioning Grumgra's
wisdom. There had been a howl of derision when, in the presence of the
entire tribe, the chieftain had assigned him to the hated duty; and it
was the knowledge of his comrades' mockery and chuckling glee, far more
than regret at the loss of dearly needed repose, that angered Ru when
he took his place beside one of the fires and prepared for the long,
lonely watch.

Certainly, his task was not an enviable one, for he had to keep close
to his own particular fire, and there could be no communion between
him and his fellow sentinels. Through the intervening shadows, he
could hardly recognize them as human at all; they looked like ghosts
as they watched beside the uncanny yellow fires at distant ends of the
encampment; and, like ghosts, they kept elusively away from him.

As though to make his vigil more difficult, Nature as well as man
seemed to be conspiring against him. While the day had been blue
and clear, the night turned out to be dark and starless; and a cold
wind, which came howling out of the north, had shoved a black mantle
of clouds across the sky. Not often had Ru seen so wild and bleak a
night. Except for the light of the fires, which quivered and tossed and
darted out lean orange lips like distracted things, there appeared to
be no illumination in the world; and, except for the dark, slumbering
camp and a narrow and fitfully lighted circle of the fields, he seemed
to be standing in the midst of a gigantic void. Yet from that void
there issued strange and disquieting sounds--not only the moaning and
soughing of the gale as it plunged through the limbs of unseen trees,
but the voices of night prowlers occasionally lifted in growls and
grumblings and long-drawn wails that brought no consolation to the
heart of Ru. Once, indeed, the void did seem to be pierced by something
other than sound, for out of the distance he could distinguish
two close-set phosphorescent orbs staring at him like menacing
phantoms--then, in an instant, they were gone, and there was only the
darkness again, and the chilly wind whirling and sobbing past.

"Evil spirits are abroad in the world!" thought Ru, as he piled fresh
logs upon the fire; and he pictured the streams and the air and the
clouds as alive with savage monsters and still more savage men, some
of them made in the image of Grumgra, though scowling even more
ferociously than he, and with clubs ten times as long; and some of
them in the likeness of the wolves and hyenas that might even now be
prowling within a stone's throw of the camp.

He was occupied with such gruesome thoughts, and was wondering whether
the wicked spirits might not be tempted to leap in a plundering band
upon his people and smite them with bearlike teeth and claws, when
his attention was distracted by something moist and cool settling
upon his palm. It was only a drop, but after a second it was followed
by another, and then by another still--and with a sinking of the
heart Ru realized that it was raining. This in itself would have been
no occasion for alarm, since the people were used to getting wet,
and moreover were protected by their thick, hairy manes--but as the
downpour began to come faster and faster and the wind began to screech
and scream like some triumphant marauder, Ru glanced with growing
anxiety at the fires, and piled on the fagots with desperate speed in
the hope of reviving the flagging flames.

But the wood was wet, and would burn but poorly; and the shower waxed
heavier and heavier until it came down in torrents, and Ru, dripping
from head to foot, could make out the lively little streams that
rippled everywhere through the camping-place. Then once again he caught
a glimpse of phosphorescent eyes through the howling gloom; and amid
the roaring of the plunging, falling waters he could distinguish now
and then another roaring that was still more sinister.

By this time all the camp was awake. Aroused abruptly from their
slumbers, men, women and children came surging in all directions like a
rout of distracted shadows; and, literally tripping and plunging over
one another in their frenzy, they clamored and yelled as if to match
the tumult of the elements. Suddenly, amid the rushing and rioting of
that panic-stricken mob, Ru felt himself being pounced upon, shoved
aside and trampled; and as, in confusion, he picked up his bruised body
and slipped hurriedly away, he saw that the multitude, in its terror,
was heaping log after log with insane haste upon all six fires--with
the result that all, already sputtering feebly, were stifled utterly
by the excess fuel, and after a last weak flutter or two, gave up the
struggle and delivered the camp to darkness.

It would be impossible to picture the confusion that now reigned.
Women were shrieking, babes screaming, men pleading and praying to the
fire-god or bawling terrified, panicky orders that no one heeded. One,
in a trembling voice, would beg all to be calm; another, in piercing,
blood-curdling tones, would call out that he saw a wolf, a bear, a
mammoth; now and then there rang forth a wail as of the most terrible
anguish; and once, after a particularly hair-raising cry, there came
the grumbling of some predatory beast, followed by a rending and a
crunching of bones.

And all the while the whole world remained black, deathly black as
though there could be no such thing as light. And all the while
the rain came down in drenching sheets, and the wind snarled and
blustered, and ominous growling things were sneaking through the gloom.
Every man stood with club poised, ready to strike--though who, if need
be, could strike fast enough?--and thus the long weary hours of the
night dragged by, until at length the rain ceased, and the wind, like
a weary beast, subsided, and a faint glow came into the sky and showed
the hills and woods in shadowy outline, and then at last, after agonies
and agonies of waiting, a pale gray streak above the eastern bluffs
gave promise of another dawn.



                              CHAPTER VI

                        _The Wrath of Grumgra_


It was a doleful band of migrants that stood revealed in the first
dreary light of morning. Shivering and drenched, with soggy fur-mantles
and rain-soaked skins from which the slow water dripped and dripped,
they looked like beasts just returned from a perilous plunge; and
little trace of their usual energy was apparent as they mournfully
wandered across the miry soil, or lugubriously eyed their disheveled
fellows. More than one bruised arm or gashed thigh or wrenched shoulder
bore witness to the panicky scuffle of the night; several of the
people were nursing blackened eyes or feeling sullenly at jaws that
displayed new-made gaps; while one of the most woebegone of all was he
who exhibited an enormous swelling on the head--due to the terror of a
kinsman who, mistaking him for a wild beast in the dark, had struck him
with a club.

But these were the least of the casualties. In the soft soil at the
edge of the encampment, ill-omened five-clawed footprints were to be
seen; and in one or two places a new-made crimson patch caused even the
most hardy to tremble. Too well the people read the dread meaning!--but
at first they had no idea who the victims were, nor even how many
victims there had been. In loud-voiced anxiety, each man and woman
began to search and cry out for those nearest to him--so that for a
while the pandemonium was as great as during the storm. Half-crazed
mothers raced about calling stray children; stray children screamed
and bawled for missing mothers; great brawny males went searching with
angry eyes for their unseen mates, and frenzied women begged for word
of their absent men; friend stared into the turbulent mob for lost
friend, and wild-eyed striplings for vanished maids; and now and then
there would be a scream of exultation as two who had given up hope were
reunited.

As time went by, most of the missing were found, for some had gone
unobserved amid the blatant mob, and some had taken to the trees in
their terror and one by one had returned. But after two or three hours,
there were still several who remained unaccounted for; and these
included two men, a woman, and three children.

Although it was not the nature of the Umbaddu to give themselves up
to orgies of lamentation, still the loss of six persons--particularly
when these included two able-bodied men--was recognized as a matter of
importance. It was regarded, indeed, almost as a public misfortune,
and, in accordance with a custom handed down from remotest times, had
to be investigated before a council of the entire tribe. For it was the
belief of the Umbaddu that no full-grown man ever came to his death
except through the agency of evil spirits: hence, whenever a man died
unaccountably, the evil spirit had to be discovered and his human agent
appropriately punished.

No one was surprised, therefore, when, instead of ordering the
migration continued, Grumgra began the day by giving instructions for a
tribal conference. There was not so much as a thought of protest--and
when at length the excitement of the night had died away and all hope
had been surrendered for the missing ones, the survivors gathered in a
wet and bedraggled and yet eagerly chattering group on the damp grass
of the meadow.

Just a trace of apprehension, however, flitted across the frowning
faces when the stooping form of Zunzun the Marvel-Worker was observed
beside the bearlike hulk of Grumgra. And no pleasure lighted the scores
of staring black eyes when, after crushing some grass-stalks between
his fingers and scrutinizing them speculatively, Zunzun turned to the
chieftain and slowly announced: "O Grumgra, I can see from the green
color of the grass that evil spirits are abroad. We must find out
who it was that caused the rain to fall, and who it was that put the
blood-fury into the claws of the wild beasts--and him we must punish!"

"Yes, him we must punish!" echoed Grumgra, with malevolent relish.

And every man turned to eye his fellows fearfully--for who could say
that his closest friend might not have harbored the evil spirits? or
who could say that the wise ones might not make a mistake and punish
the wrong man?

"Someone has angered the fire-god and made it go out!" roared Grumgra,
in the tones of an accusing judge--and all his hearers quailed and
instinctively withdrew. "Someone has angered the fire-god! Who can it
be?"

For a moment there was silence, while the audience gazed furtively at
the trees, at the grass, at the river--at all things but the terrible
eyes of Grumgra and the bewitching eyes of Zunzun.

"Then if no one will speak, we will find out!" shouted the chieftain.
"Zunzun the Marvel-Worker will ask the spirits of the woods, and they
will tell him!"

Whereupon Zunzun began to bob up and down, up and down, as though in
prayer to some unseen divinity. First he would touch the grass with
his outstretched palms, then he would rise as far as his stooping
posture would permit and fling his grizzled arms heavenward; then he
would bow down again and repeat the ceremony time after time, all the
while mumbling and muttering, "Nunc, nunco, no, nuncu, nunco, no," in a
jargon unintelligible even to his hearers.

But the spectators, although they did not understand, were immensely
impressed. The scores of ferret eyes were riveted upon the
Marvel-Worker; the powerful jaws gaped wide with wonder; now and then a
tremor of fear crossed the furry countenances.

At length, apparently feeling that his antics had sufficed to appease
the wood-gods, Zunzun sought rest from his strenuous exertions, and,
turning to Grumgra, whispered a few words that none of the tribe could
catch.

But whatever it was that Zunzun confided, Grumgra was evidently well
pleased. A broad smile softened his brutish face; into his gleaming
little eyes there came a light as of sly enjoyment.

Not a murmur flitted through the assemblage as Grumgra strode sullenly
forward, and lifted his club in token of command.

"Zunzun has found out the evil one's name!" he snapped; then he stopped
short to give his announcement time to penetrate.

"The evil one is sitting among us now!" continued Grumgra, in
portentous tones; then once more he stopped short, while each man
peered at his neighbor suspiciously.

"Shall I tell you who the evil one is?" he proceeded, with the manner
of one who anticipates a pleasant announcement. "Shall I tell you?"

"Tell us! Tell us!" came an eager chorus.

"Listen then, and I shall tell!" assented Grumgra. And, after another
pause, he thrust his left hand out accusingly. "There is the evil one!
There he is! There he is!"

Dozens of eyes, straining to see, observed that the condemning finger
was pointed straight at Ru.

"It's a lie!" shouted Ru, springing furiously to his feet. "A lie, a
lie--"

But before he could complete his denial, powerful hands had seized him,
and he was struggling, kicking, tearing and biting, all to no avail, in
an over-mastering grip.

And while the crowd cackled and gibbered in glee, Grumgra scornfully
announced: "I have found out all that the Sparrow-Hearted has done.
He made wicked magic last night. He does not fight before our eyes
like other men--he runs away, and then works his evil like a crawling
serpent behind our backs. While we were all asleep, he spoke with the
wind-god and the gods of the clouds, and told them to put out the
fire-god. Also, he called to the bad spirits of the woods, and told
them to catch and eat our people. This the bad spirits did--and for
this Ru must suffer!"

Here Grumgra paused again, while breathlessly the people awaited the
sentence he was to pronounce, and Ru, heavily panting and more than
half exhausted, still strained uselessly in the arms of his persecutors.

"If it were anyone but the Sparrow-Hearted," Grumgra resumed, tapping
his club significantly, "I would have him slain--no, I would slay him
with my own hands! But who wants to wring the neck of a sparrow? And so
I will not kill him this time--"

Murmurs of disappointment were beginning to be heard from several
quarters; but Grumgra, with a ferocious frown, hastened to reassure his
people.

"I do not mean that we shall not punish him. I shall not hit him with
my club, for do we not need all our men to help us in the hunt?--but
until he lies down for his last sleep he shall bear the marks of his
bad deeds. He has put out the fire-god by making the rain come--and
so the fire-god must take vengeance. Go, my people, gather new fagots
and light the fires again; then let us scorch black marks upon the
Sparrow-Hearted's throat, that all men may see and know of his shame!"

Delighted titters expressed the approval of the audience; and at the
same time a growl half of rage and half of agony issued from the throat
of Ru. But a huge mud-caked hand, thrust savagely across his mouth,
stifled his protest in mid-career; and while he squirmed and struggled
ineffectively in the arms of his captors, he could see several of his
tribesmen darting about with great zest to gather fagots and flints.

But it proved to be no easy matter to make a fire--the wood was wet,
and would not burn. And while the delay prolonged Ru's torments, it
gave him a vague hope and a bitter satisfaction to watch his fellows
sweat and toil to no avail, pounding the flints furiously together
and kindling spark after spark that invariably vanished in thin air.
Hours went by, and no fire was made; by degrees his persecutors wearied
of holding him, and their oaths became terrible to hear; while the
dismayed people began to murmur that Ru had bewitched the fire-god.

As time wore on, it became apparent that the migration could not be
resumed before the following morning--the punishment of Ru had cost
an entire day. But Grumgra seemed determined that, regardless of the
waste of time, Ru should be punished; and as he strode pugnaciously
from group to group, swinging his club and snarling at the unsuccessful
fire-makers, it seemed likely that if Ru did not suffer someone else
would. Once, indeed, the chieftain went so far as to lunge viciously at
the skull of a particularly careless handler of the flints; and, after
the intended victim had escaped by the fraction of an inch, his fellow
workers applied themselves scrupulously, but none the less with one eye
furtively upon Grumgra.

Time was to lend their labors success. The sun had come out somewhat
hesitatingly that morning; but though he worked slowly he worked
surely; and after a few hours, some of the fagots had become reasonably
dry. Thus it happened that, when the afternoon was already old, the
people saw the bright flames once more leaping and crackling in the
center of their encampment.

And now came the eagerly awaited event. With the excitement of
spectators at some rare entertainment, the tribespeople gathered to
see the punishment of Ru. All eyes gleamed and glittered in greedy
pleasure, and all lips uttered exclamations of joy, when at length the
culprit was dragged and shoved toward the flames. Despite his small
physique and the strain and exhaustion of the last few hours, Ru was
fighting like a wildcat. Some new and almost superhuman strength
seemed to have come into him, now that the fires flashed so near; four
of his larger kinsmen were needed to hold that furiously writhing,
squirming little form; and the blackening eyes of two of the men showed
the marks of his outthrust fists and feet, while on the arm of another
was a gaping red gash where the captive's teeth had wrought angry
vengeance.

But the vehemence of Ru's resistance only whetted the enthusiasm
of the mob. Added to the anticipated delight of the burning, there
was the unexpected pleasure of a fight--a spirited fight, with all
the zest of reality! Hence the people crowded close for a glimpse
of the wild-eyed, convulsed form of Ru; hence they jeered and gibed
in raucous glee when, in the unequal scuffle, he was hopelessly on
the bottom; and they held their breath and gaped when at times he
wriggled free of some encompassing arm and appeared about to escape
altogether. No hint of pity for him issued from those tense, thick
lips, no murmur of encouragement, or of admiration at his desperate
struggle; the women looked on as intently and as cold-eyed as the
men; and the children--whenever they could squeeze close enough for
a glimpse--stared at the condemned one as dispassionately as their
elders. Even when crimson patches appeared on his face and his nose
spouted blood, there was not a tremor of sympathy or regret; even when,
in the frenzy of the combat, his deerskin robe slipped off and he was
left with only his hairy natural covering, there was not a murmur
of revulsion or horror. But with the sporting aloofness of men who
watch two cocks tearing one another to bits, the tribespeople saw Ru
gradually beaten and bruised into a bloody submission.

At last, having put forth all the effort of which human flesh is
capable, he lay sweating and panting on the ground, while a bulky
kinsman sat across his outspread legs, and two others held his hands
pinioned. About him, like voices in an evil dream, he could hear the
expectant gibbering of the multitude; above him, he could view a blur
of faces, evil faces gleaming with a cruel joy; to his left, when he
turned his bloodshot eyes aside, he could see Woonoo the Hot-Blooded
holding a long pointed stick in the flames.

But he was almost past seeing or caring. His senses were deserting him;
he hardly knew who he was or where; the world seemed to be whirling and
whirling around, and he was as though floating somewhere far away in a
fog that would not lift.

He was aroused to full consciousness by the sight of a glowing
something dangled just above his eyes. It was the red-hot stick, which
Woonoo had thrust meaningly before him; and just above it shone a
multitude of fiery eager faces, disdainful and compassionless as the
glaring brand itself.

And as once more there surged across him the frenzied desire to escape,
he was stabbed by sight of that which was more cruel even than the
searing flames. Two well-known eyes, enticing and distracting eyes,
were isolated suddenly amid that confused throng, beaming upon him as
if in pleasure, in ridicule, in amused contempt....

Some there were who afterwards claimed to have heard him murmur, in
wounded tones, "Yonyo! Yonyo!" But they could not be sure; perhaps
it was but the fumings of a crazed mind. At all events, his words
were drowned instantly by the hissing of scorched hair and flesh, and
by a scream so horrible that even the most bloodthirsty quailed and
shuddered.

And while the victim lay moaning on the ground, writhing and twisting
like a worm that has been trodden upon, the curious pressed forward and
observed a huge black mark upon his neck and chest--a black mark which
took the form of a rude cross.



                              CHAPTER VII

                         _The Fire-God Speaks_


That evening Grumgra chose a camping-place at the base of the cliffs
several hundred yards down the river--the very cliffs he had roared at
Ru for suggesting. Here, in little hollows and recesses of the rocks
and under the protection of the beetling precipice, the people had no
difficulty in lighting their fires and keeping them burning; and though
once again a strong wind and rain came up, the storm did not beat
directly down upon them, and they slept undisturbed until morning.

But there was at least one of their number--even excluding the
sentinels--who could know but little sleep that night. Exhausted to a
point almost past fatigue, Ru lay wide-eyed through the long hours,
while all about him sounded the heavy breathing of his fellows, and to
both sides the uncanny yellow fires wavered and blinked like the eyes
of malignant giants. He was so stiff and sore that he could scarcely
move; even to turn upon his bruised side caused him many a half-stifled
groan; yet a continual torment of burning in his mutilated neck and
breast made him writhe and twist incessantly.

But the anguish of his body was less excruciating than that within
his mind. His physical injuries would heal and be forgotten; but deep
within him, walled from contemptuous eyes, there was a wound that would
not heal and would not be forgotten. That searing brand, so greedily
applied by Woonoo, had scorched more than his skin and flesh; it had
withered away at a stroke his very feeling of kinship with his people.
Previously, when scoffed at or taunted, he had seemed to be cut off
from them only for a moment; now it appeared to him that he was an
alien--for all time an alien in the midst of his own people. There was
no longer anyone in whom to confide, anyone in whom to seek refuge;
even she of the dazzling eyes could see his misfortune and laugh; and
neither she nor the others would care if he should vanish into the
river or down the throats of the wolves.

But as he lay there in the firelight, moaning and moaning in unheeded
agony, a furious resolve came into his mind, gripping him with such
vehemence that for the moment he forgot his pain. It was a thought that
was not new to him, yet in its present fury it seemed wholly new. As
his people had mocked and derided him, so they should one day worship
and applaud; as they had made him grovel at their feet, so they should
one day grovel before him; and where Grumgra stood in club-wielding
might, he should walk in power more absolute even than Grumgra's!
Strange thoughts for one so beaten down and humiliated, for the outcast
and the cull of the tribe! But even in this moment of despair he knew
that he was master of that which his fellows could never command, for
he could think while they could only act--and his thoughts should win
him the world!

Nor were his plans confined merely to vague hopes. With the shrewdness
of the practical dreamer, he was scheming for the hour of his triumph
even in this hour of his defeat. First of all, there was the weapon
which would strike at a distance, and which sometime, surely, he
should learn how to make. Then again, there was the might of the
fire-god--that very fire-god who had burned and tortured his flesh. If
he had been able to master this great spirit, his troubles would have
been spared him; if he could still learn to master it, he would have an
ally more powerful than any club that was ever brandished. Just how to
tame this elusive force he had no idea; but he promised himself that
he would wait and watch until sometime, unexpectedly, the secret would
open before him.

Several of Ru's fellows, awakening in the early dawn, thought they
heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like an oath of
service to the god of fire. But they only laughed at what they deemed
the Sparrow-Hearted's ravings; and they amused themselves by prodding
the puny one lightly with the points of sticks in order to see his
anger.

That morning, when Grumgra gave the order for the march, Ru was
scarcely able to stagger along with the tribe. His aching limbs were
matched by his aching head; his body felt strangely hot although
a cool wind was blowing; his trembling legs seemed in danger of
collapsing. Like one in a nightmare, or like one suddenly grown old, he
tottered through the gloomy forest aisles, feeling as if each step were
to be his last. How he endured the long miles he never quite knew, nor
how he withstood the mocking gaze of his fellows and the inquisitive
eyes that constantly explored his throat and breast, as though his
scarred flesh were an inviting sight. Only the fact that the tribe was
burdened with many children, whose pace was slow and who could not be
left behind, enabled Ru to keep within sight of his kinsmen. Even so,
he had visions of being forsaken altogether, and of finding himself, in
his helplessness, suddenly face to face with one of the fanged prowlers
of the woods.

Perhaps eight or ten miles were covered that day--a good day's
traveling, indeed! And when, in the late afternoon, Grumgra called a
halt and chose a camping-place, Ru was so exhausted that he sank down
with a thankful sigh, and began almost instantly to atone for the loss
of two nights' sleep.

The following morning he awoke feeling much refreshed; and, having
bathed in the stream, he helped himself liberally to chunks of dried
buffalo flesh and of the venison that the women were roasting over
the fire. This was his first repast in almost two days--and now,
although his limbs were still sore and aching, he felt once more in an
optimistic mood.

But as the tribe set out again through the woods by the banks of the
interminable Harr-Sizz River, he became conscious that something was
still lacking. His sense of exile had not left him; since his public
humiliation two days before, scarcely a person had spoken to him; he
could hear the people murmuring that he was in touch with evil spirits,
and that a word from him might bewitch them. Even when the children,
drawn to him by the force of old attraction, would approach with the
smiling request for another tale of aurochs or bears, their elders
would scowlingly order them away. And so Ru was lonely, more lonely
than he had ever been before. He was filled with sadness to hear his
fellows chattering merrily ahead of him or behind, while he trudged
on and on all by himself; he longed vaguely for some companion, some
particular companion all his own; and his craving, although he could
not understand why, seemed always to settle about Yonyo--even she, the
scornful and the heartless one, whom he was trying his best to forget.

But he could not forget her. More than once, when she passed him on the
trail, it stung him through and through to see that she went by without
even a disdainful glance; and more than once, when he saw her strolling
gaily with Kuff the Bear-Hunter or Woonoo the Hot-Blooded, he was
filled with an almost uncontrollable fury to rend and destroy. Had he
but possessed the strength, he would have sprung pantherlike at these
great tribesmen of his, and struck and struck till they lay stiff and
lifeless before him.

But the feebleness of his limbs was an effective bar to his murderous
impulses. Day after day went by, while Yonyo seemed to have forgotten
his existence and Kuff and Woonoo openly vied for her companionship.
Meantime he seemed to be still under a cloud, for no one would speak
to him, even though, in his loneliness, he made repeated advances to
his former companions. At night he was forced to sleep by himself in a
solitary corner of the encampment, and by day he had to glide ahead of
his tribesmen or behind them through the interminable lengths of the
wilderness.

And now his only solace came from watching the bewildering and
ever-changing panoramas--the tumbled ragged-white vistas of far-off
snow-peaks, the dark, steeply curving slopes of the spruce and pine,
the tumultuous blustering river with its bank of reeds or rocks, the
tiny blue lakes that dotted the valleys like inverted bits of the sky,
the massive cliffs and crags and the boulder-littered plains, with now
and then a waterfall that came foaming from the heights with a crashing
and roaring as of a god's voice. At times Ru's quick eyes would catch
the flash of some moving thing, and he would stop short to watch the
queer inhabitants of the wilds: the huge brown mammoth, with its grave
high head and long curling tusks; the golden yellow double-horned
woolly rhinoceros; the enormous, swiftly gliding red deer; or even the
wild horses, bison, and cattle that browsed upon the river grass in
peaceful bands. Somehow, although he could not say why, Ru was glad
merely at sight of these creatures; and in his interest in them, and
in his glimpses of the great hills and rushing waters, he found relief
from that anger and despair with which his people had filled him.

After ten days had gone by, and the wounds in his body were almost
healed, but the wounds in his heart were festering more painfully than
ever, there occurred a series of events which brought a sudden end to
his career as outcast.

Those events began with a curious discovery of Ru's. One evening he
chanced to observe a woman cast a bit of bison tallow into the fire;
and he noticed how the fat sizzled and sputtered with bright yellow
flames much more brilliant than the normal wood fires. Like all his
people, he had seen such a spectacle time upon time before; but always
he, as they, had watched without eyes, and no thought of possible
utility had ever occurred to him. But now, in a flash, it came to him
that the fire-god loved tallow, fed upon it greedily, and would serve
anyone who made him an offering of it. What if, in place of wood, one
should try to burn old and dried-out fat? or, rather, wood prepared
with a coating of fat?

No sooner was the thought in Ru's mind than he had begun to experiment.
Selecting the long straight limb of a fallen tree, he greased it with
a heavy layer of tallow he had cut from a recently slain bison. Then,
cautiously and not without some fear of the fire-god, he thrust the end
of the stick into the flames.

Two or three of his tribesmen, who were squatted idly on a mound of
earth some paces away, grinned in apish amusement to watch this new
antic of the Sparrow-Hearted. They were preparing to leap up and seize
the greased stick from his hand by way of pleasant sport, when they
fell back in amazement to see a brilliant deep-yellow flame spring up
at the end of the pole. And, the next they knew, Ru was striding toward
them waving a flaming brand that seemed like a threat from the fire-god
himself.

They did not wait to learn more about that threat. With terrified
squeals, they took to their feet, while Ru followed at his leisure with
a smile of amusement and triumph.

Wherever he went, he was greeted with frightened screams and cries.
The children ran howling from him; the women pressed back with shrieks
and yells; the men stood growling and threatening at a distance, but
drew hastily away whenever he strode too near; while many a feverishly
moving lip framed prayers to the fire-god. From end to end of that
camping-place--a wide glade in the heart of the forest--Ru stalked
like an avenging demon. It filled him with a wild, exultant joy to see
even the great Grumgra hold his distance, even Grumgra, the dreaded
and the growling one; and his heart sang with fierce glee when Zunzun
the Marvel-Worker--he who professed to be the fire-god's nearest
friend--went tottering hurriedly away before the sputtering menace of
the torch.

Rapidly and vigorously the brand continued to burn, with an energetic
crackling and flaring, until it was less than half its former length,
and the molten, scorching grease began to flow along Ru's fingers.

He was just about to throw down the brand and beat out the flames, when
he beheld that which filled him with sudden madness. At one corner
of the glade, shielded behind a mountainous boulder, sat Woonoo the
Hot-Blooded; and in his huge hairy arms lay one whom Ru recognized all
too well--Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed!

With a roar of murderous rage, Ru was upon them. His torch gleamed
and wavered wrathfully; he forgot for the moment the torments of the
melting fat; he was bent only on singeing and branding his rival. And
Woonoo, taken off his guard, was aware only of a fire-brandishing fury
that came dashing upon him out of the void, waving the yellow flames as
if to sear him to cinders.

Without taking time for a second glance, time even to recognize the mad
apparition as Ru, Woonoo squealed with terror, cast the startled Yonyo
from him, and fled for the woods. Ru, pressing close behind, was forced
to be content with flinging the torch after him and scorching the hair
of his back.

A few moments later, Ru returned from the chase with a triumphant grin.
Yonyo was still standing, as if dazed, beside the boulder from which
she had been so rudely thrust; and, as Ru passed, she turned toward him
with a smile that was almost friendly. But he seemed not to see; and,
without so much as a glance in her direction, he strolled resolutely
toward the center of the encampment.

Seeing that he was without the burning brand, the bolder tribesmen now
came forward to meet him; and it was not long before even the more
timid had ventured near. From their excited way of crowding about him
and chattering, one might have thought Ru exceedingly popular. But he
was not to be deceived by their effusiveness; resentment still rankled
within him. And so he did not respond to their advances; he did not
reply to their questions, did not explain his power over the fire-god;
he seemed not to hear their friendly jests, their praise, their offers
of companionship.

       *       *       *       *       *

On the following evening, there occurred an event which added still
further to Ru's newly won prestige.

It happened that, at the close of the day's migration, one of the men
curiously explored the hollow of a tree trunk, and there discovered
that rarest of all treats--a bees' nest filled with honey. Regardless
of the stings of the infuriated insects--which, after all, were much
impeded by the hairy natural covering of the people--some of the
doughtiest of the tribe contrived to capture the entire treasury of
sweets; and, laden down with their booty, which consisted of a mixture
of wax, honey, squirming grubs and dead bees, they hastened away to
camp to enjoy the feast.

So eager were all the people not to miss their share of this delicacy,
and so greedily did men, women, and children swarm about the possessors
of the prize, that all other pursuits were momentarily forgotten.
Clamoring and shouting for a portion, smacking their lips hopefully or
gustily licking long dripping fingers, the people pressed in a furious
rabble about the fast-disappearing dainty, so rabid for a taste that
one might have thought them engaged in a riot--and few remembered that
no other food was being prepared, that no precaution had been taken
against possible danger, that no fires were being kindled for the night.

Yet, while the tribal fires had been neglected, it would not be quite
correct to say that no fires at all had been lighted. Screened from
the gaze of the multitude behind a slight rise in the land, Ru sat
patiently preparing a little fire of his own. And when at length the
flames sprang forth with gusto, he began to ignite sticks of various
kinds and sizes, all of which had been liberally greased.... But of
this his kinsmen knew nothing. Like hungry vultures quarreling over
a bit of carrion, they were still squirming and struggling about the
honey.

Suddenly, when the pandemonium had reached its loudest, the
participants were startled by a growl more savage even than of the
dispossessed honey-seekers. In deep-voiced tones, half like the
grumbling of an angry dog, half like the bellowing of a bull, there
sounded a challenge so terrible that the blood of all ran cold and
their paralyzed legs seemed limp and useless beneath them. And out of
the forest there trotted a thick-set furry beast as large as a grizzly,
with little brown eyes gleaming evilly, gigantic paws and large curving
claws outspread, and monstrous glittering mouth gaping wide.

After the first glance, the people's paralysis left them. "A bear!
A bear! A cave-bear!" they cried, mad with terror. And where, but
a moment before, there had been a maggot-like, convulsive throng,
there was suddenly nothing but a mound of honey-drenched earth. In a
wild mob the fugitives raced for the trees, shrieking and crying in
dread, dashing one another aside in their fury to reach shelter, then
literally climbing over one another as they mounted into the protecting
branches.

But his Majesty the Bear, having caused all this consternation, took
little note of the results. With long greedy tongue he began to lap up
the spilled honey; and, as befits a conqueror, he was so absorbed in
consuming the spoils of victory that very soon he had quite forgotten
the vanquished.

But the vanquished had not forgotten him. From their perches in the
tree tops, they watched the marauder feasting; and, while they watched,
they chattered angrily, made hideous grimaces, and shouted furious
names at the enemy.

In the midst of their tumult of hoots and howls, an astonishing
spectacle distracted their attention from the bear. Suddenly, as if
from nowhere, a short, slender figure flashed into view beneath them,
waving a burning brand and striding toward the redoubtable beast!

The spectators gasped. Some muttered in amazement, some in alarm;
one cried that Ru was out of his wits; others screamed that he had
bewitched the monster, or that the bear would crush him like a rabbit.
But all eyes were fastened steadily upon him as, still brandishing his
torch, he pressed straight toward destruction.

In a moment he was well out in the open field, too far from the trees
to seek safety in flight. And then it was that the beast became aware
of him. With a snort of anger, Bruin turned to confront his foe; but
his wicked little eyes burned with a light that was not altogether of
menace.

Swinging his torch round and round in enormous circles till the flames
hissed and sizzled threateningly, Ru strode on and on without a pause.
In another moment, he was so near that the bear might have been upon
him with a leap.

But the bear did not leap. Instead, he reared upon his great hind legs,
looming taller than the tallest man and stouter than five men. Ominous
mutterings issued from his cavernous throat; his huge lips curled in
a defiant snarl; his gigantic paws were outspread as if to strike and
crush.

Then, when Ru could feel the hot, foul breath upon him, he started
forward with a shout and a rush, as if to throw himself upon the
monster, as if to thrust himself straight into those powerful gaping
jaws.

[Illustration: _Ru frightens the bear with his torch_]

But the furry one did not wait for the onslaught. With a howl of
terror, he turned and lumbered away into the woods; while Ru, pursuing
him with the firebrand, at the same time motioned to his people to come
down from the trees.



                             CHAPTER VIII

                         _A New Misadventure_


For three days following the bear-chasing exploit, Ru was as much
sought after as he had previously been shunned. It was as if his people
now felt him to be the possessor of some unique and supernatural power;
as if they believed him to be in league with unseen but mighty spirits,
whose friendship was at all costs to be won. And since the obvious way
to court such friendship was through courting Ru, he was showered with
attentions where of old he had met only neglect. Four or five of his
kinsmen were at all times ready to go chattering at his side whether
or not he desired their company; and, when he sat down to rest at the
end of the day's migration, there was always someone to approach with
flattering words and seek either to wheedle out of him the secret of
the firebrand, or else to beg some charm that would give protection
against the fire-god. Even the young women of the tribe--Mono the
Budding Tree, Sizz-O the Serpent-Tongued, and others--cast admiring,
half-inviting glances toward him from beneath their high-ridged bushy
brows; while more than once Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed approached with
jests and laughter that scarcely availed to break down his sullen
silence.

For he was still disdainful of his people--as disdainful of them as
they had been of him. Brooding upon the wound on his breast, whose
cross-shaped ghastly scar was as a mark of shame, he distrusted their
vows of friendship; he suspected that at heart they loved him no better
than before. And so, although at times in his loneliness he longed to
dash down the barriers at a stroke and be one with his people as of
old, yet his pride and wounded sensibilities combined to keep open that
rift which his own peculiarities and Grumgra's hatred had created.

But after three days, he suffered a fall at once sudden and
disconcerting. And the indirect cause of the misfortune was a lack of
that caution which, had he been but a little wiser, he would surely
have exercised. One evening he was seated in a lonely corner of the
encampment, experimenting before his own little fire with some long
sticks and a mass of tallow, when suddenly he became conscious of two
gleaming black eyes peering at him from amid the shrubbery. At the
instant of his discovery, the eyes disappeared, and he could not be
sure whose they were nor how long they had been watching; but an hour
later the unhappy sequel told him all that he desired to know.

It was late twilight, and he was seated in the midst of the tribe,
chewing eagerly at the roasted ribs of a wild horse, when Woonoo the
Hot-Blooded came strutting from behind a clump of shrubbery, waving
a brilliant yellow torch--almost precisely like the torch of Ru's
invention! And behind Woonoo towered Grumgra, wielding a similar but
very much larger torch! They both moved without a word to the center
of the encampment, while scores of gaping men and women paused between
bites to stare at them in awestricken wonder.

At length, mounting the recumbent trunk of a huge dead tree, Grumgra
began to speak in his usual bellowing voice.

"One of our people," he commenced, without formality, "has just done
a great deed. He has learned how to make the fire-god work for us. He
has given us these fire-sticks you see now." Here Grumgra swung the
torch about his head in scintillating circles. "After this, we may all
have fire-sticks to help us in our hunting. Is it not strange magic,
my people? This magic was made by one of our bravest men--one of the
wisest and biggest of us all--Woonoo the Hot-Blooded!"

Grumgra paused, and a tumult of excited gibbering signified the
applause of the audience. Ru, trembling with anger, noted an admiring
gleam in the eyes of Yonyo as she glanced toward the Hot-Blooded; and
at the same time Grumgra continued in words that scorched him to the
heart.

"There is another of our people," resumed the Growling Wolf, in tones
that justified his name, "who would have us think him a friend of the
fire-god. But this man is really like a worm; he is not strong at all,
and did not make the fire-stick. For the fire-god is mighty and would
not help a half-man like the Sparrow-Hearted--"

"Lies! Lies!" screamed Ru, springing to his feet in a quivering frenzy.
"All lies! I was the one that made the fire-stick! I was the one--"

But his words were drowned by a chorus of hisses and hoots. He felt
someone seizing him from behind; he was thrust brutally to earth; while
on all sides rang the jeering laughter of his fellows.

Released from the bruising hands, Ru crawled away like one in a
nightmare. As he reached the outer fringe of shadows, he could still
see the monstrous form of Grumgra waving the flaming brand, and just
beneath him the huge but smaller fire-wielding shape of Woonoo; while
dozens of grimacing hairy faces, shining with apelike grins and
contortions in the unsteady light, seemed to burn and glow maliciously
as the taunting faces of imps.

And thus ended the three-day reign of Ru. Thus ended that power which
he had won by his wits, and lost by his carelessness. Henceforth he
was to be again the despised, the outcast, the butt of derision, the
solitary wanderer; henceforth he was to hear that hated appellation,
"Sparrow-Hearted," dinned again and again into his ears, and was to be
shunned by his people, and most of all by her, the tantalizing, the
Smiling-Eyed.

All the rest of that night no one came near him; and all the following
day he roamed by himself, no longer sought by the gay, chattering
groups; and the merriment that rang about him from the forest recesses
burdened him with melancholy thoughts. A feeling of sadness and of
desolation was upon him and would not be shaken off, a sense of
frustration, of anger and of futility. He would scarcely have known how
to laugh even had he had someone to laugh with; and in the brooding
silence of the woods and the overshadowing gloom of the hills and crags
he found but little compensation for the scorn in the eyes of Yonyo and
the sneer in the eyes of his kinsmen.

But if he had fallen from his momentary high estate, his present
troubles were as nothing beside those which awaited him after another
day or two.

Having kept close to the Harr-Sizz River for scores of miles, following
its innumerable twists and turns and serpent-like convolutions, the
tribe was unexpectedly confronted with the necessity of crossing the
stream; for the waters turned abruptly northward in a long, unbending
line, and Mumlo the Trail-Finder insisted that the land they sought lay
toward the mountains in the direction of the noonday sun.

While a tumultuous throng clung to the bank shouting directions,
several of the men began to wade into the stream, seeking a suitable
spot for fording. The river at this point was fairly wide, and seemed
to be correspondingly shallow; yet its current was rapid and angry, and
gurgled past in a steadily moving muddy torrent. As a result, not a few
of the men were buffeted off their feet; and, except for the fact that
they were unimpeded by clothing, they would hardly have been able to
force their way back to safety.

But despite innumerable setbacks, they persisted. And at length Mumlo,
moving some distance down-stream, found the point where he claimed to
have crossed before. The stream here was perhaps double its average
width and much more shallow than in most locations; yet it was not
quite so shallow as the more timid might have desired, and in places
the waters came well over Mumlo's shoulders.

But there was little chance for hesitation. Straight into the stream
plunged the men, their shoulders bent beneath the weight of the rapidly
diminishing provisions; and straight after them followed the women and
children in a shouting, splashing rabble. Some--particularly among the
younger folk--seemed to take the crossing as a pleasant sport, and
leaped and pranced in the waters like aquatic animals; others screwed
up their beady little eyes into an expression of extreme gravity, and
peered out across that broad flowing expanse with no sign of relish.
Toward the center of the stream, the shorter tribesfolk lost connection
with the bottom and had to trust to their swimming ability; and this
they did with invariable success, although one or two of the children
seemed in danger of being washed away and were saved only by the timely
outthrust of a parental arm. As for the infants, of whom there were
well over a score, they were carried on the shoulders of the tallest
men, where, screaming with terror and clinging with a grip that showed
no sign of relaxing, they were perhaps safer than their older brothers
and sisters.

One of the last to attempt the crossing was Ru, who had been loitering
near the bank examining a shrub whose flexible stem seemed well fitted
for the long-distance weapon he was planning. It was only when he
feared being left behind that he tore himself away; and when at last
he plunged into the water, he was in a great hurry to make up for lost
time, and recklessly swam almost the entire distance.

Half exhausted, he was about to clamber up the opposite bank, when
he saw two pairs of familiar eyes peering at him in malicious glee.
At a glance, he realized that Woonoo the Hot-Blooded and Kuff the
Bear-Hunter could mean him no good; but he could not imagine what evil
design they might have. And, at all events, he had no choice except to
attempt to pull himself up the moist, slippery rocks as though nothing
were amiss.

But he very speedily learned what was in the minds of Kuff and Woonoo.
With one accord, as though following a prearranged plan, they reached
out their powerful arms, seized Ru about the neck and shoulders, and
flung him back into the river. And, as he descended with a splash and
felt the flood racing above him, their guffaws rang loud and heartily
through the startled woods.

Panting, and half choked with the water he had swallowed, Ru rose to
his feet and started unsteadily back to the bank. He did not suppose
that his fellows would repeat the prank--the first time, it might be
excused as a joke; but, if continued, it would turn into something more
serious than a friendly bit of sport.

So, although both exhausted and angry, Ru tried to take the little game
in the proper spirit and to grin. But his effort was a feeble one, and
failed woefully.... With renewed guffaws, Kuff and Woonoo ran to meet
him as he struggled up the bank; the next he knew, he had felt the
irresistible arms gripping him again, had gone flying through space,
and had splashed once more into the strangling flood.

Recovering himself with an effort, Ru stood for a moment breast-deep
in the water, staring furiously at the impish, grimacing faces of
his persecutors. He was now convinced that they were ready to repeat
their pranks time after time; consequently, he sought to elude them
by swimming to a little projection of land about a hundred yards
down-stream. But, upon arriving, he found to his dismay that they were
there awaiting him. And, not content with merely waiting, they were
wading after him into the stream, forcing him to retreat hastily toward
the center.

By this time, half a dozen spectators had gathered to watch the
sport. With titters and chuckles of raucous mirth they encouraged
Kuff and Woonoo, meanwhile joining in boisterously by jeering the
Sparrow-Hearted with every evil-sounding name at their command. And
after a minute one of the more audacious spirits, not to be satisfied
with mere words, picked up a pebble and ostentatiously flung it at Ru,
who was now standing waist-deep a dozen yards from shore, undecided how
to attempt another landing.

With a splash, the pebble disappeared in the water just to Ru's rear.
And a chorus of gleeful shouts broke forth as Ru turned with a start
to see what had happened. Immediately several of the men, quick to
seize upon ideas, profited from the example; and in another instant Ru
was the center of a little shower of missiles. Most of them vanished
into the water without effect, but one of them struck his arm with a
painful thud, to the immense amusement of his tormentors; and so many
stones were whirling through the air and splashing in the water that Ru
took the one obvious course, which was to make with all possible speed
toward the center of the stream.

But his withdrawal lent additional zest to the amused chorus on the
bank, as well as additional speed to the stones that pursued him. So
insistent was the bombardment that he had to press on and on through
the deepening torrent, until at length the bottom slipped from beneath
him and he had no choice except to swim.

But his tribesmen did not seem to know when they had had enough of a
joke. Although by this time Ru was so exhausted that he could barely
keep afloat, the mood of entertainment that possessed the spectators
was far from satisfied. Not realizing or not caring what grave results
threatened, they continued to pelt Ru gleefully, following him along
the bank as he drifted down-stream, and all the while jeering him to
their hearts' content.

Ru meantime was engaged in what promised to be a life-or-death
struggle. Again and again he felt the powerful swirling torrent
breaking over him, and only with an effort lifted his head for a
reviving breath. Again and again he swallowed huge gulps of the muddy
water, and heard a muffled roaring like a death-threat in his ears;
while, in his terror, he had visions of huge strangling arms reaching
out for him from the depths and dragging him down as he had once seen a
stag dragged down by the quicksands.

He heard no more the gibes and taunts of the mob on the bank, heard
no more the splashing of the stones; he was waging a desperate fight
against the current, which was narrower here and much swifter than
where his tribe had crossed--and the current was winning the battle.
His panting heart was straining in vain, his tugging muscles pulled
feebly against the gigantic body of the water; his bulging eyes were
staring in a last agony at the vague, rushing shore; louder and louder
dinned the drumming in his ears, more insistent the force of that
pounding, suffocating fury that broke over his head; he floundered and
lunged, rose again and sank, slowly rose again and sank, while over
him came a maddening, baffling longing for air.... Then strange lights
and shadows were wavering about him, something dark and formless was
bearing down upon him--and, the next he knew, his fingers were clinging
to some great and solid object.

Opening his eyes, he felt himself returning by degrees to life, and
realized that he was gripping the floating trunk of a dead tree, which
was bearing him swiftly down-stream toward an unknown expanse of blue
water.



                              CHAPTER IX

                                _Lost!_


Not yet recovered from his shock and exhaustion, Ru climbed with
difficulty onto the gnarled upper surface of the drifting tree trunk
and lay there at full-length, his hands clutching a projecting
broken-off limb, his feet trailing behind him more than half in the
water. He was still too weak to think of swimming to the bank; and
while he lay on his new-found craft, gradually regaining his strength,
the current was carrying him steadily toward the unknown blue expanse.

Almost before he was aware of his new peril, he found himself on the
surface of an enormous lake--a much larger lake than he had ever seen
before. Its rippling indigo expanse spread far, far away, out of sight
and to vague infinities; and Ru could make out only dimly the ragged
lines of the snow-peaks that fringed the farther shore.

By this time the motion of the log had almost ceased; and, at a barely
appreciable speed, Ru was drifting toward the center of the lake. At
first he perceived in this no cause for alarm; then, as he observed
that hundreds of yards separated him from the bank and that the
distance was still widening, sudden terror filled his mind....

How was he to regain the shore? Was he to float out to the middle of
the wide waters, far beyond swimming distance of the land? and was he
to be there when the sun went down and the darkness dropped over all
things? and then again when the sun came up and lighted the world? And
would he stay there even till the hunger-pain came and the bad spirits
flew down and took him beyond the last mountains, so that he would
never again walk with his people among the rocks and woods? Or--most
dreadful thought of all!--even if the water-god let him go and he could
swim to shore, would he know how to find his way back again to his
tribe?

Many times before in his brief career Ru had felt forlorn and forsaken;
but never had he been oppressed with the same overwhelming desolation
as now, when he gazed across the glittering waters to the tree-lined
reaches of the land, and realized that somewhere in those impenetrable
vastnesses his people had vanished, and were doubtless even now
retreating on some undiscoverable trail. In one swift, cruel stroke,
all the terrors of exile flashed across his mind; he felt as if he had
been deserted; he felt deliberately trampled upon and thrust aside.
And when for a moment he saw himself for what he was--an isolated mite
adrift in an unheeding immensity--he had almost ceased to care, would
almost have welcomed the smothering flood-waters.

But after an instant of inertia, the old savage desire to live came
flaming back upon him. No matter what agonies he suffered, he must save
himself; no matter what difficulties and dangers he had to face, he
must face and surmount them--he must, for it was the law of life! And
if for a while Ru had felt pitifully small, helpless, and abandoned, it
was not long before hope had flashed into life again, and had brought
his will to life with it, so that he began thoughtfully to calculate
his chances of rescue.

First of all, how find his way back to the shore? Never in his life
had he attempted to swim much more than the width of a river--would he
then be safe in undertaking this far wider distance? Remembering his
recent near-fatal experience, he could not persuade himself to take the
chance; even the precarious foothold of the log was vastly preferable
to the certain risks of the open waters.

But if he was not to leave the log, how return to land? For many
minutes Ru pondered without avail, while in growing dismay he gaped at
the dark, ragged lines of the trees, whose distance was slowly and yet
perceptibly widening. Then, when the delay and the increasing cold and
the dread of oncoming night were challenging his better judgment and he
again considered hazarding the swim, chance suggested the remedy which
his unaided wits could not provide.

Every once in a while, when for the sake of comfort he shifted his
weight, the log would lurch and turn abruptly; and on some such
occasions, while he was seeking to regain his balance, his feet or
hands would fly out haphazard into the water, giving the log a shove
that altered its position by a few inches or a foot. At first Ru did
not recognize the possible importance of these accidental movements;
but after he had observed them several times, it came to him on a
sudden that his craft need not move only as the winds and waters
dictated! He himself might push it in any direction that he desired!
And as this startling thought invaded his mind, he thrust his right
hand into the water and shoved with all his might--with the result that
the log did actually swerve and turn much as he had surmised it would.

Thus the art of navigation had its beginning!

But the discovery was not without its drawbacks. Although he could
indeed propel the log in any desired direction, he found his craft to
be most ungainly; it responded with the utmost slowness to his will,
and moved only by inches toward the too-distant shore. After the
passage of an hour--an hour of most strenuous paddling, during which Ru
several times lost his balance and fell into the water--his goal was
obviously nearer, and yet still so remote that he almost gave up hope
of reaching it.

It was at the moment of returning despair that a new idea occurred to
him. And here again chance played a part. He observed the leafless
dead limb of a tree floating barely out of reach--about as thick as
his arm and perhaps twice as long. With a little cry of delight, he
flung himself into the water and seized the prize; then, returning to
his log-vessel, he promptly took his second step toward a mastery of
navigation.

To his great joy he found that, seated astride the log with the long
stick for paddle, he could advance much more rapidly than when he used
only his hands.

Even so, his progress was still plodding and laborious--the most
cumbrous raft of a later day could have offered him lessons in speed.
Yet, to Ru's way of thinking, his rate of movement was encouragingly
swift; and his mood became self-congratulatory when he saw that
the shore was approaching, actually approaching, so that he should
surely reach it before dark. And from his thankful heart there issued
something like an unspoken prayer, a prayer of gratitude to the
spirits of the woods and the waters that had given to him--to him, the
despised, the Sparrow-Hearted--an almost miraculous control over nature.

But this joyous feeling had deserted him when at last he stood on
the sandy shore of the lake. Except for the pole which had been his
paddle and was now his club, he was without resources or defense other
than nature had offered him. He had no food; he had lost his flint
implements in crossing the river; his covering of deerskin had slipped
from him. And these handicaps--although assuredly serious enough--were
by no means the worst. How far he might be from his people he did not
know, and of their general direction he had only the vaguest idea;
but that they would send no scout to look for him was certain, and
that days might be consumed in the return to them was probable.
Meanwhile he was alone in an unknown land, with neither landmarks nor
trail to guide him. He would have to dive through forests where the
sun-god could not penetrate, and dart across plains where the wind-god
thundered and roared and bade the wolf and the wild bull roam like mad.
What gigantic obstacles loomed before him, what ambushed perils lay in
wait, was more than the gods themselves could say!

For many minutes Ru stood in a mournful reverie by the rippling lake
waters, now gazing out across that imperturbable, unfeeling deep-blue
expanse, now staring up into the quivering tops of the densely massed
pines and the ampler towers of the oaks. He could not decide what
to do or how to begin; he was thinking with anger of the brutality
of his tribespeople--of how they had brought him to this pass, yet
would not care, even could they know, but would only gibber and grin
inanely. In imagination he saw one of them--her who was known as the
Smiling-Eyed--and watched her grin and gibber with the rest; and at
this fancy a great rage seized him. He was filled with longing to rush
back to her, and seize her in his arms, and hold her with such passion
that the insolent smile would vanish from her face and she would look
up at him meekly and in wonder.

But even while such thoughts crowded through his brain, he did
not forget that he was standing alone in a perilous country. Some
subconscious protective sense--a sense far keener in those primitive
days than in a later age--aroused him abruptly to a dread reality.
Suddenly Yonyo and his people vanished from his mind; he was aware only
of himself and of the little tree-encompassed patch of beach whereon he
stood. A great fear went shuddering through his heart, fear swift and
all-enveloping as at the stealthy approach of death. His breath came
short and fast; his heart began to hammer ferociously; the hair along
his back bristled, and his eyes were twin points of terror fixed upon a
dark spot in the underbrush.

Yet all the while there was no visible cause for alarm. Nothing could
be seen to stir among the dense verdure; there was no sound except for
the distant cry of a bird calling to its mate, and the nearer sound
of the wavelets lapping the shore; the breeze peacefully swayed the
tall spires of the pines, and from along the lake a butterfly went
zigzagging and spiraling happily.

Then suddenly, from the throat of the watching man, came a
blood-curdling scream. And, as he screamed, he turned and went
streaking toward the trees; while after him, with great feline leaps,
darted a monstrous tawny form, with green eyes lustfully glaring, and
saber-like tusks curving downward from cavernous jaws.

[Illustration: _Ru hides from the sabertooth_]

In an instant the contest was over. Barely in time to beat the spring
of the lithe body and the thrust of the murderous fangs, the pursued
dashed up the nearest tree and swung himself out of sight in the
foliage. And the pursuer, with hair-raising screams and yelps of
baffled rage, slid agilely about at the base, at times rearing its
massive form against the trunk as if to dare the ascent, at times
peering upward with blazing, evil eyes as of a cat that covets an
inaccessible robin.

Never before had Ru beheld such a beast. Wolves, bears, rhinoceroses,
hyenas, he had learned to fear and to fight; but never had he heard
his tribesmen even tell of a terror such as this which, half lion and
half tiger, was prowling at the foot of the tree. Still wide-eyed with
horror, as the screams of the beast sent chill shivers down his spine,
he drew himself up into the highest branches; then, although he knew
that he was secure for a time at least, he continued to shudder as if
the fanged one were even now springing at his throat.

For a long while he could still make out the tawny form among the vague
shadows beneath; and when those shadows began to deepen and twilight
slowly settled over the world, Ru did not know whether or not his foe
still lay in wait for him.

But he did not desire to take any chances; he held resolutely to his
fastness in the tree tops, determined to remain there until morning.
Even had there been no sabertooth, he could not have entrusted himself
to those perilous woods in the dark. Here among the branches it was not
likely that any night marauder could reach him; and though it was most
uncomfortable to balance himself on his lofty pinnacle, and though he
was obsessed by continual fears of falling, yet he found it possible
to huddle up safely in a crotch of the boughs and even to secure some
sleep. He was surprised to find that the experience--although he knew
it to be his first of the kind--did not seem exactly new to him; he
felt almost as if he had come back to an old home, as if he had slept
countless times before among the tree tops, had rocked and swung in the
same wind-blown couch, had known that the same green leaves were above
him, had stared down fearfully into the same blackness where shadowy
terrors prowled.

But while he could not have explained why, Ru knew that every sound
and sight of that interminable night seemed familiar. The tigerish
scream from far off when some great beast pounced upon its prey; the
shrill and horrible death-shriek of some slaughtered creature; the
hooting of some owl-like bird, and the lonely plaint of some roaming
wolf; the mysterious shadows that occasionally went streaking across
the open space beneath, and the glowing, ghostly eyes upturned now
and then as if staring malignantly at him--all these seemed as things
known and feared in lonely vigils long ago, known and feared in some
half-remembered dream. And lying in a clinging heap among the branches,
with ears alert for every sound, and eyes searching the darkness for
every flash and glitter, Ru thought of his people slumbering securely
beside their camp-fires; and as he remembered how comfortably they
rested on their earthen couches and how little they need fear slashing
fangs and claws, the heart within him was envious and sore.

By the first dreary morning light, his eyes began to explore the ground
for trace of his saber-toothed assailant. But there was no sign of the
cat-like monster. Was it lurking in ambush somewhere just out of sight?
or had it wearied of waiting and gone off in search of easier prey?
Ru had no way of knowing, and felt by no means certain that the beast
had left; but after he had hesitated for many minutes, and the full
light of day streamed from above, his hunger and impatience and sheer
discomfort combined to decide for him.

Warily he began the descent, inch by inch, with motions so cautious
that not a leaf was ruffled--still no sign of a possible foe. At
length he had reached the lower branches and stood perched there in
uncertainty, ready to fling himself back into the tree top at the first
hint of danger. But no such sign appeared; only a few buzzing gnats and
now and then a murmuring bee broke the stillness of the woods; and his
senses brought him news of nothing threatening.

At last, choking down his visions of huge fanged jaws and ambushed
tawny forms, Ru released his hold on the tree and slid silently back to
earth.

But nothing happened, absolutely nothing--the motionless trees and the
wide rippling waters and the clear blue sky alike seemed unconscious
of his deed of daring. And though his limbs were trembling and his
eyes were filled with dread and he stood long by the tree, still
prepared to dash back to safety at the least suspicious rustling, the
world appeared friendly and serene as if it harbored no saber-fanged
marauders.

Finally, when he had convinced himself that his persecutor had gone,
not to return, Ru started cautiously across the open space and regained
his club, which he had dropped in his precipitate flight. Thus
protected, he strode to the brink of the lake, where he bent down and
sucked in a long, refreshing draft, following which he was ready to set
out again into the unknown.

It seemed to him that there was now only one possible course to
pursue--to keep close to the lake and the river until he reached the
point where his tribe had crossed. Then, guided by the tracks they
had made, by the scraps of food and clothing they had cast aside, and
by the damage they had done to the vegetation, he should have little
difficulty in tracing their route and ultimately overtaking them.

But this plan was by no means as easy to carry out as Ru had expected.
In places the lake shore was lined with bogs and swamps, around which
he had to tramp endlessly; in other places there were steep bluffs to
scale, rapid streams to ford, and thorny thickets to penetrate; and all
the while he had to maintain a keen lookout for serpents and hostile
beasts, and had to keep near enough to the trees to be able to reach
them if necessary. Once, indeed, he did seek them in a panic when a
suspicious stirring of the foliage brought reminders of the sabertooth;
but it proved to be nothing more than a wild horse, which went about
its business without disturbing him. On another occasion, his heart
almost stopped short with fright when a tremendous crashing burst forth
from a little clump of woods just ahead; but having sought his usual
retreat among the branches, he observed the enormous, hairy light-brown
bulks and immense curving tusks of two mammoths, and noted with relief
that the beasts were evidently in a sportive mood, for they went
ambling out of sight with trunks playfully waving, apparently oblivious
to any creature so puny as man.

As he glided through the woods and along the shore of the lake, Ru
stopped now and then to pluck berries from the dense clusters of
bushes; or else to gather certain familiar roots, which he washed
in the lake waters and then devoured without further preparation,
masticating their tough fibers long and vigorously with his huge
grinding teeth. Even so, he had difficulty to find sufficient
nourishment; and though he lost nearly half his time in the search for
food, he was conscious of an increasing hunger as the long hours of the
day dragged wearily past.

So many were the delays, and so circuitous the route he had to follow,
that twilight was descending by the time he had reached the Harr-Sizz
River. To arrive before dark at the crossing-place of his tribe was now
out of the question; and so, with renewed forebodings, he began to look
about him for a suitable tree for the night's lodging.

But it did not take him long to decide. While he was peering
contemplatively at the serene blue lake and the plunging river and
the long graceful lines of the forest, he was startled by a cry that
suddenly broke from the depths of the wood.... Long-drawn and shrill,
it shrieked and screamed with a savagery as of some challenging beast,
an utter ferocity that made his blood run cold. Yet it was not the call
of a beast; despite its demoniac fierceness, it was unmistakably and
horribly human; and it rang and echoed at first with a fiendish menace,
then with a note almost of triumph, of exultation, as of a devil
rejoicing.

Following the cry, and blending with its final tones, there burst forth
another and even more blood-curdling yell--a howl as of extreme terror,
of hatred, of agony. Swiftly rising in a crescendo, it ended abruptly
in a half-stifled moan; then came a series of moans and dreadful gasps,
as of some creature writhing in torment; then once more the shrill
challenging voice, followed by other voices screeching in wild glee
or still wilder terror; then the sounds of scuffing and heavy blows
mingled with a clamorous confusion of voices that chorused like a din
of demons, but gradually and slowly died down, until the silence of the
vast solitudes once more covered all things.

Long before those cries had ended, Ru was perched among the tree tops.
Clinging to the upper branches, well out of sight of the ground, he
sat as still as though he were a man of wood; yet his wide-open eyes
were alert with wonder and fear, and his ears missed not one note or
tremor of the mysterious tumult. Who might those strange combatants
be? he inquired of himself; and he trembled merely at the knowledge
that they were human. For a moment it came to him that--ferocious as
they were--they were perhaps his own people; but he dismissed the
thought instantly, for the voices had in them a savagery surpassing
even that of the Umbaddu. But, if not his own people, who could they
be? He had never been told that there was any tribe in the world except
his own; but there were old legends--legends ridiculed by the wiser
tribesmen--that other peoples existed, and that some of these were
brutal and fierce as wolves.

While remembrance of these discredited legends was troubling Ru's
mind, the twilight was gradually deepening, and utter darkness was
stealing down about him. And through the gathering night, in the
direction whence the voices proceeded, he was amazed to observe a faint
glow--so dim at first that he could not be sure whether he had not
merely imagined it, then by slow degrees brightening into unmistakable
reality: a ruddy luminance that seemed to issue from beyond the tree
tops, filling the spaces just above the black rim of the foliage with a
flickering ghostly light, which wavered and rose and wavered and rose
with uncanny fitfulness. And in the midst of that appalling radiance,
whose pale red was of an indescribable ghastliness, there shot forth
from time to time little yellow sparks, which leaped up brightly
against the sultry background and instantly vanished.

By this time Ru had forgotten the legends about strange tribes of men.
He was remembering tales that old men told on winter evenings beside
the firelight--tales of red goblins that danced and sported in the
woods at night, with eyes of flame, which could shrivel a man to ashes,
and claws of flame, which could strike through the trees like lightning.

As the slow, anxious minutes wore away, Ru caught no glimpse of the
dreaded ones, although the weird, wavering light continued to trouble
him, and now and then, by straining his ears, he thought he could
hear that which sounded suspiciously like a murmuring of voices. But
he could not be certain; and, as time went by, the ruddy glow grew
dimmer, and at last only the far-off querulous calls of bird and beast
disturbed the profound silence of the night. Then gradually the lonely
watcher succumbed to the lulling mood of the woods; and forgetting his
doubts and solitude and terror, he folded his arms about the limbs of
the tree as about a dearly loved friend, and slipped into a delicious
dream that he was back again among the comforts of the old familiar
cave.



                               CHAPTER X

                        _The Men of the Woods_


When Ru awoke, the mysterious light had disappeared; and in its place
the first pale glimmer of day was newly revealing the world. The
night's adventures now seemed so extraordinary that Ru wondered vaguely
whether he had not merely dreamed them; and when the heartening morning
light had filled all things, he could hardly understand why he had been
so frightened.

As by degrees his courage returned, he felt the proddings of that
slyest of temptresses, curiosity. What had been the meaning of that
which he had seen and heard? Would it not be possible to find out, and
find out safely? Might he not even make some marvelous discovery? learn
of the existence of some people akin to his own? perhaps even find
friends among that unknown people?

Realizing his danger, and yet resolved to tread so cautiously that
he might seek refuge in the trees at the first suspicious sign, Ru
descended from his leafy perch, regained his club, and warily set out
in the direction of the night's terrifying sights and sounds.

At first, as he made his way through those shadow-dim woods, treading
noiselessly on the thick matting of dead leaves and scrupulously
avoiding the dense clumps of underbrush, Ru observed nothing out of
the ordinary. Here and there some little bird, rustling unseen among
the shrubs and vines, made him stop short in quickly conquered alarm;
here and there some squirrel would flash into view and out again, with
bright beady eyes alertly glittering. But, except for such harmless
creatures, there was no sign of life, and the great wilderness
stretched before him, silent and undisturbed.

He was almost convinced that he should discover nothing--that he had
taken the wrong direction, or that there was nothing to be found--when
his keen eyes caught a telltale mark in the soft soil. Faintly traced
in the midst of a narrow open space was the imprint of a foot--a human
foot of gigantic proportions!

For a moment Ru stared in surprise and dread. Fearfully he glanced
toward the trees, lest one of a race of giants be watching him unseen;
then he began to inspect the ground on all sides, and speedily
discovered scores of similar footprints! That they had not all been
made by one individual was apparent from their difference in size; and
that they had not been left by his tribesmen was evident from the fact
that several of the unknowns were lacking in one or more toes.

Tracing the footprints toward what appeared to be their source, he
forgot for the moment his own possible peril. Curiosity still led
him on blindly--with every step he was finding fresh evidence of
unaccountable things. He was appalled at sight of a great blur of
clotted blood at the edge of a fallen tree, and at sight of numerous
sinister-looking reddish spots and patches. In a secluded little pocket
of the glade, he observed that the herbs and grass had been beaten
down as though in some terrific struggle, and here too were the same
ghastly blots of red; and finally, when an uncanny creeping sensation
was running down his spine and his better judgment was counseling him
to flee, he beheld that which stabbed his mind with such sudden and
overwhelming horror that the memory was not to leave him until his
dying day.

Huddled in a cluster of shrubbery at one end of the glade, was a
gruesome apparition that seemed half man and half beast--more beast
than man, for surely this great motionless hairy bulk could not be
human. It lay slumped among the bushes as though it had crept there to
breathe its last; an intermittent trail of blood led from it to the
open spaces; its huge apelike head drooped almost to the ground, with
enormous jaws agape, thick lips slimy with coagulated foam, and glazed
little black eyes sightlessly staring. On its broad shaggy chest the
crimson gore was matted, while its battered right temple was little
more than a clot of red.

With a low cry of alarm, Ru drew back. He did not take time for a
second glimpse; in a panic, he raced away, raced straight across the
open and toward the farther woods--scarcely knowing where he was
going, filled only with a mad desire to escape that bloody terror in
the bushes.

But, in his impetuosity, he was to dash directly upon a still more
alarming scene.

From the place of the strange footprints and blood-marks, he fled
into an adjoining and larger glade. Almost in the center of this
grass-covered opening, he stopped short in fresh terror; and his
startled eyes surveyed the ground at first without full realization,
but with gradually growing comprehension--comprehension of the most
fearful deed that even those savage days could boast. The appalling
fact was not that the ashes of a camp-fire lay before him, a few of the
embers still dully smoldering--this he had half expected to find; it
was not that the relics of a feast lay scattered among the weeds and
grass, which reeked of the entrails of animals, discarded bits of hide
and fat, and crushed and shattered bones. That which made Ru shudder
and quail was that the feast had evidently not been confined to animal
fare. From a recess between two rocks, a gaunt blood-stained skull
leered at him, bits of flesh still clinging to the brow, the brain-cast
battered as by a heavy blow.

With a gasp of revulsion, Ru recognized that it was the skull of a man!
And on the ground beside it he detected scraps of reddened human skin
and hair, split and charred human thigh-bones emptied of marrow, and
severed human fingers and toes!

Slowly, like one half stunned by a blow, Ru started to retreat. His
horror-stricken eyes searched the borders of the glade for sight of the
dread feasters; his limbs began to tremble uncontrollably beneath him.
Fortunately, there was no sign of anything menacing; neither beast nor
human challenged him before he had gained the bushes and vanished.

But as he stole away into the underbrush, he heard that which seemed to
confirm his worst fears. From across the open space a renewed tumult
startled him--a tumult as of voices calling. They were heavy and
raucous, like the voices of his tribesmen, yet the accentuation was not
that of his people--and they had in them a bestial note like that of
prowling wild creatures.

But who they might be Ru did not seek to discover. At as rapid a pace
as he could maintain without making a telltale noise, he picked his way
among the thickets in the direction of the lake. Thorns pricked his
hands, sharp stones cut his feet, bloodsucking insects alighted upon
his unprotected skin--but he did not notice; in his mind was a ravening
dread that drove him on like a goad of fire. Had the terrible unknowns
discovered his presence? Hearing him, had they returned? and, observing
his footprints, were they even now following on his trail? Were
they--though built in his own form--hunting him as man hunts beast? And
was there danger that they would overtake him, strike him down, and--

But here Ru's imagination reached a barrier that it would not cross.
He recalled the scraps of human skin and flesh scattered about the
burnt-out camp-fire--and at this abhorrent memory he shuddered, thought
of old tales of men that ate men, and strained to quicken his gait.

From time to time, as he glided beneath the trees and through the
tangle of bushes and shrubs, he paused to listen for the sound of
possible pursuit. At first he heard no more than the heavy pounding of
his own heart; a moment afterwards, he could make out only the fussing
and chattering of some gossipy bird; but not much later he detected a
suspicious crackling and rustling in the brush.

Was it only the noise of some browsing beast? Ru did not take time to
find out. Forgetting all caution in his panic, he darted down the long
meandering twilight aisles at the speed of the hounded wild thing,
while the squirrels leaped from his path with startled eyes, and
frightened flocks of wood-doves made way for him with a heavy flapping
of wings.

Somewhat to his surprise, he came out suddenly at the shores of the
lake. For a moment he halted in confusion; then recognized the long
sandy beach that he had passed only yesterday afternoon.

Straining every muscle, he began to dash along the shore toward the
mouth of the Harr-Sizz River. Several minutes passed; he had covered
hundreds of yards; all was silent again, and there was no sign of
approaching peril. He was just beginning to believe that he would elude
his pursuers, when a sudden shrill shouting broke the stillness of the
woods....

At that crisis his heart gave a terrific thump. His brain worked
with lightning rapidity. If he took once more to the forest, his
tracks would be found, the pursuit would be renewed, and, driven to
exhaustion, he would probably be overtaken. His only refuge therefore
lay in the waters. Not in swimming, for he could not swim far enough or
fast enough; the one hope was in his new-found means of propulsion.

And good fortune favored him, for a little distance down the beach lay
a fair-sized drifted tree trunk, resting more than half in the water.
With an effort, he set the huge mass afloat; then waded in after it and
pushed it as far as possible from shore; and finally, equipped with his
club as paddle, he climbed to a precarious seat astride the log, and
shoved and shoved until he was well out in the lake.

He was perhaps a hundred paces from land, when an enormous shambling
shape shouldered out of the woods and halted on the beach. At this
distance Ru could hardly be sure that it was not one of his own people;
like them, it was thick-set and stocky, with monstrously developed
shaggy black limbs. But it was even more hairy than his tribesmen;
it wore no clothes at all; and its great form was unusually bent and
stooped, while its long arms slid down in front of it almost to its
knees.

For an instant the creature paused on the beach, peering about it
in all directions as if bewildered. Then, sighting Ru where he was
struggling with his unwieldy craft, it let out a long-drawn ferocious
bellow of rage; in response to which half a dozen of its fellows, all
likewise stooping and unclad, came plunging and snorting out of the
woods.

There followed a moment's silence, during which they all stared at Ru
in obvious amazement, meanwhile pointing to him significantly with
their hairy arms. Then all at once there rang forth a chorus of shrieks
and howls such as Ru had rarely heard before. In it was a peculiar
blood-curdling note not to be described, except that it had something
of the growling menace of the cave-bear, and something of the yelping
fierceness of the sabertooth--and Ru knew that it was this cry that had
so terrified him last night among the tree tops.

But now the only effect of those screams was to make Ru push even more
desperately away from shore. Such was his haste that once or twice he
lost his balance and slipped into the water, and several times struck
his own legs painfully with the paddle.

Recognizing that all their clamoring was gaining them nothing, the
howling ones dropped suddenly into silence; and, picking up small
stones and pebbles, began to hurl them furiously at Ru. Their aim was
good, and the missiles went hurtling through the air at tremendous
speed; but the fugitive was already out of range; and the pebbles
splashed harmlessly in a little shower to his rear.

Angry mutterings now sounded from the throats of the stone-throwers.
With deep-voiced growls and grumblings, three or four of them strode
out into the water after their fleeing prey. Ru's alarm grew by leaps
and bounds as the wavelets broke first over their knees, then over
their thighs, then almost up to their sloping shoulders and bull-like
necks--and his dread turned to actual terror when he observed them
swimming, swimming toward him with rapid and powerful strokes! Through
the fast-diminishing distance, he could watch their hideous round heads
bobbing up and down, could see the gleam of the fiendish little eyes
and the brutish lines of the heavy eye-ridges.

On and on they came; their great arms clove the water with the easy,
regular strokes of accomplished swimmers; their hairy, baboonish faces
were twisted into diabolical grins. And Ru, though he tugged and pushed
at his pole with all his force, could not match the speed of his
pursuers; the space between them steadily grew less and less until it
measured but a stone's throw.

Like a pack of wolves upon a cornered deer, they pressed nearer, still
nearer, until he could see the white glittering of their enormous teeth
and make out the clotted blood-streaks on their outthrust arms. Then a
sudden idea come to Ru. Abruptly he ceased his paddling; carefully he
balanced himself on the broadest and flattest part of the log. And into
his anxious face and pale gray eyes a grim smile flitted as he stood
there and waited.

But his pursuers seemed not to suspect that anything was amiss. An evil
leer lighted the eyes of the swiftest of the band as he drew near; he
muttered in savage triumph as he stretched out a massive black arm
toward the log where Ru stood.

But his arm was never to reach the log. In a flash Ru had swung his
paddle from its hiding-place behind him; and with a dull thud the heavy
stick came down upon the head of his assailant.

The swimmer sank back with a low piteous moan. His form collapsed
helplessly into the waters; there was a sudden floundering of arms, a
gurgling, a few bubbles--and one man less was afloat upon the lake.

Still with a grim smile, Ru looked out across the waters. Not fifty
feet away, two or three dark bobbing faces were peering at him
hesitatingly. Ru held his place firmly on the log, shouted a challenge,
and swung his club angrily. And the swimmers, after a moment's
indecision, made unexpected response to the threat--of one accord, they
turned and energetically splashed their way shoreward.



                              CHAPTER XI

                          _The Return of Ru_


Two or three hours had passed before Ru would venture away from the
shelter of the lake. And when finally he paddled to land, he chose a
point a mile or more from the scene of the conflict--a secluded little
inlet not far below the mouth of the Harr-Sizz River. Here, he knew,
he was secure from the gaze of his foes, even had they been watching
for him. But he could not be sure that others of their kind were not
lurking in the woods; and it was with extreme caution that he took his
way along the beaches and around the dense clumps of greenery, his club
gripped in readiness for immediate action.

No sign of anything hostile appeared, however, save now and then a
serpent squirming out of his path. Neither wild beast nor wild man
seemed to be abroad; he gained the Harr-Sizz River unmolested; and,
with tension relaxed, followed its turbulent course toward the spot
where his tribe had crossed.

This point proved to be somewhat farther than he had expected. More
than once, as he glided through the seemingly endless woods just above
the river bank, he asked himself whether he might not be following the
wrong stream by mistake. But he continued in spite of his doubts; and
at last, shortly before sundown, his efforts were rewarded. Rounding an
abrupt turn in the river, he recognized all of a sudden the scene of
his recent misfortune, the fording place of his people.

After a few minutes' search, he found the clear marks of their passage.
Innumerable tracks stared at him from the soft soil, as plainly as
if made only that day--tracks of all sizes, which wandered from the
river bank into the shadowy wilderness, trampling down the grass and
underbrush and curving through the open spaces in long meandering loops.

It was with mixed feelings that Ru read these silent messages from
his kinsmen. He had something of the feelings of an exile who beholds
from afar the shore-line of his country; the full bitterness of his
loneliness flooded back over him again, the sense of isolation and
of loss, mingled with renewed anger that--through no fault of his
own--he should have been subjected to such humiliation, suffering, and
peril. But, above all, the remembrance of Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed came
back to him. Useless for him to reflect that she was unworthy of his
attention, that she would only laugh at his wretchedness, ridicule his
misfortunes, and contemptuously forget him were he to die--the thought
of her filled him at once with fury and with a deep but tender emotion.

Yet Ru lost no time in idle ruminations. Having found his people's
tracks, he followed them as far as the waning daylight permitted, then
warily set about the business of finding a tree for the night.

This time he was to be disturbed by no mysterious screams. There were
only the usual night noises--the cry of some nocturnal bird, the
far-off call of some predatory beast, the stirring and the rustling of
the breeze amid the foliage.

The following morning he awakened in happier spirits. Now, for the
first time, he felt that he was actually on the way back to his people!
He realized, to be sure, that they had preceded him by nearly three
days; but, retarded as they were by implements and provisions, by women
with babes in arms and by the younger children, they could travel no
farther in two hours than he could travel in one.

For many miles he followed hopefully on their trail, which ran through
the forest up a slope that ascended first gently and then with bold
and difficult grades, until Ru realized with apprehension that he
was climbing a mountainside. Enormous boulders littered his way, and
there were places where he had to crawl on hands and knees up the
steep and jutting rocks; a tumultuous stream ran at his side, foaming
in loud rapids or plunging in cascades; above him, through rifts in
the woods, he caught glimpses from time to time of appalling slopes
of white. Had his people mounted straight into that snowy desolation?
He could not believe they had; but that they had passed this way was
all too evident, not only from their tracks where the soil was damp
and leaf-matted, but from the clues they had left even in the rockier
places--here a flint tool that had been unwittingly dropped; there
the rib of a buffalo or wild boar, chewed and discarded; yonder the
torn-off strip of a deerskin robe.

Once or twice, indeed, Ru did fear that he had lost the tracks, and for
a while wandered about aimlessly amid a stony wilderness. But always,
after a few minutes, he discovered some reassuring token, and continued
on his way. The sun stood about midway in the heavens when at length,
to his relief, the trail swerved and led him over an open shoulder of
the mountain, then down toward a gently sloping wooded valley, so wide
that the farther end was lost in a blue haze.

Not far below the divide, and just above the border of the woods, Ru
paused in sudden consternation. His watchful eyes had detected a little
reddened bit of stone in a crevice between two boulders--one of the
flint knives used by his people! Stooping down eagerly and seizing the
implement, he examined it in uncertainty--could the clotted blood on
the edge be that of some slaughtered beast? There was no possibility
of proof; but Ru remembered once more the man-eating savages he had
encountered, and wondered with what bloodthirsty foe his tribe had
clashed.

A few yards farther down the slope he found other signs to confirm
his misgivings. From a clump of dense brush he observed a bit of fur
protruding; and he pulled forth a long strip of bison hide of the
size of one of his tribesmen's robes! In the center it was pierced as
by some half blunt implement; and on the ragged edge of the cut were
streaks and blots of crimson.

As if this evidence were not sufficient, the very ground beneath him
bore witness to a conflict. In places the weeds and shrubs had been
crushed or uprooted, and lay torn and broken in withering masses; in
places even the stones seemed to have been dislocated, and sharply
outlined holes in the soil testified to where large rocks had been;
while in one spot there was a blur of footprints, crowding on top of
each other, and most of them half obliterated--some pointing up-hill
and some down-hill, as though from the mad surging of a multitude.

Half persuaded that some dire fate had overtaken his people, Ru
hastened on into the woods, guided by a swarm of tracks, which might
have been those of his tribesmen and might have been those of their
foes. What terrific struggle had taken place during his absence? He
asked himself again and again, as he glided noiselessly through those
dim winding forest spaces. In his mind there was no longer a doubt that
his people had battled some strange tribe; but what the issue of the
conflict had been, and how many of his kinsmen had survived to tell the
tale, were questions for which he could have no answers.

Nor did he expect an answer for several days--if at all. If the Umbaddu
had fled before some marauding foe, they must already be many hours
away. And what if the enemy barred the path between him and his people,
so that he would have no way of reaching them?

But a great surprise lay in store for him. Approaching a break in
the forest not half a dozen miles below the scene of the ominous
footprints, he was startled by hearing a faint murmuring of voices,
which gradually grew louder as he stole warily forward through the
shadows, until it was recognizable as the gibbering of a multitude.

A shudder of fear shot through Ru's heart. Might he not again be
approaching a settlement of the man-eaters? Halting abruptly, he stood
as though petrified; his impulse was to flee while flight might still
be of avail. Yet once again curiosity mastered him--curiosity, and a
glad surmise which seemed too fantastic to be true. Cautious not to
expose his presence by a sound or a gesture, he crept forward inch by
inch like a prowling cat, his shoulders bent far toward the ground, his
arms reaching down beneath his knees, his frightened gray eyes alert
for the least suspicious sound or movement.

But there was nothing suspicious to interrupt his progress. And at
length, after a few minutes that seemed interminable, he reached the
final line of the bushes; at length he was able to push the concealing
leaves gently aside, and to peer out upon the meadow from which the
gibbering voices still proceeded.

At the first glance, he uttered a low exclamation of relief. And
impetuously he rose to his full height--the need for concealment was
over!

Sprawled in a rude circle by the banks of a river, were scores of
familiar fur-clad figures!

Trembling with happiness, Ru strode forward to meet them. "My people!
My people!" it was on his lips to say, when he observed that his
arrival was creating a peculiar effect.

Immediately upon his emergence, some of the nearer tribesmen had sprung
to their feet, startled and amazed--as well they might be! As if at an
electrical signal, others followed their example, with little shocked
and horrified exclamations, until, almost in a flash, the entire tribe
stood confronting him speechlessly.

Overpowered though he was by his own astonishment, Ru could see that
the eyes of some were distended with terror; that the limbs of others
were quivering; that the lips of one were moving silently as if in
frightened prayer.

Before he could find words to demand the reason for this strange
reception, the explanation was shrilled into his ears.

"It's Ru! It's the Sparrow-Hearted! It's his dead spirit come back!"
shrieked one of the younger tribesmen, taking to his heels. And the
others took up his cry, "It's his dead spirit come back!" until those
fearsome words echoed and reechoed in a terrified din, and on all sides
the panic-stricken people were fleeing toward the woods.

For an instant the bewildered Ru did not quite grasp what was
happening. Then, as full understanding came to him, his paralyzed
tongue was loosened, and he shouted, at the top of his voice, "It is no
spirit you see! It is I, Ru! It is Ru come back to you!"

But so thoroughly alarmed were the people that most of them continued
full-tilt toward the woods, as if the shouted words only confirmed
their belief that they had seen a ghost.

Yet two or three, less timorous than their fellows, did turn at the
sound of Ru's voice. While he continued to cry, "It is only I come
back! I will not harm you!" they seemed half convinced that he spoke
the truth, and began tentatively and hesitatingly to approach.

By some peculiar chance, these audacious spirits were all women. And
among them Ru recognized, with a tremor of delight, Zubu the Prattling
Brook and Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed!

It did not now seem to matter that the tribe had fled. As Yonyo drew
near, Ru entirely forgot his vanished kinsmen under the fascination of
those glittering black eyes.

"So the Sparrow-Hearted has come back?" she called, striding ahead
of her more cautious tribeswomen, and coming almost within touching
distance of the supposed phantom. "For three days already we have
believed the Sparrow-Hearted drowned." And half tauntingly, and with an
admonishing smile, she added: "It is not right to pretend to pass the
great mountains of the dead."

"Oh, Yonyo, I did not pretend!" he pleaded. And then, as she came
within arm's grasp and halted, he felt once more the full fury of his
loneliness and of his longing for her.

"Are you not glad to see me back, Yonyo?" he cried. "Do you have no
word of joy for me? Is it nothing to you that I have been saved from
the wild beasts, and from men more savage than wolves? Oh, Yonyo, do
you not care?"

One of her most taunting, tantalizing smiles overspread her face; and
he could not be certain whether she intended to reassure him or to dash
all hope from his heart.

But her reply, although trembling on her lips, was never to be spoken,
for at that instant Zubu the Prattling-Brook came panting up to him;
and, scarcely taking time to regain her breath, burst into a storm of
questions.

"Ru, where have you been all these days? Have you not been drowned, as
Kuff and Woonoo said? Have you not gone beyond the mountains of the
sky, where those spirits live who can never come back? Or have you been
there and escaped? Have you done that wonderful deed? Have you been
dead, Ru, and walked down from the sky?"

"Yes, I have been dead, and walked down from the sky," he assured her,
on an impulse that startled even himself. And as an awestricken light
came into her eyes, he felt an audacious plan gathering form and power
within him.

"I have been dead, and come back!" he repeated, with a boldness born
of the effect his words had produced. "I am the only man who has
ever escaped from the great wind-spirit that blows beyond the last
mountains. Woonoo and Kuff spoke truth when they said they saw me
drowned. For a whole day my body lay under the water, and I could not
move nor speak; and in that day my spirit flew far, far away, and saw
things that no man has ever seen before. But of all that I shall tell
you later."

By this time two or three more women, observing that the apparition
had not harmed Yonyo or Zubu, had approached and silently joined the
group. They too gaped in wide-eyed wonder; but not a murmur of doubt or
incredulity escaped their lips.

"Tell us more!" they begged, when Ru cut his recitation short. "Do not
wait! Tell us more, Ru! We want to know what happened to you beyond the
last mountains!"

"I cannot tell you until all our people are here to listen," declared
Ru, with finality. "Go, call the people--and when they are all here, I
shall speak of the strange things that happened to me."

And while several of the women hastened away to reassemble their
frightened tribesfolk, Ru's imagination was busy constructing a story
fitted to astound his kinsmen.

But even as he reflected, he took care to observe his surroundings; his
eyes traveled appraisingly from detail to detail of the landscape. He
noted that he stood in the midst of a small tract of grassland, bounded
on three sides by the woods, and on the fourth by the river; and he
was surprised to see how wide was the stream--wider than he had ever
known any man to swim, so wide that the trees on the opposite bank made
little more than a dim blur. Near the edge of the waters, whose current
was so slow as to be barely perceptible, he beheld the ashes of three
or four camp-fires, one of which was still smoldering feebly; while in
several spots were unsightly piles of picked bones or of the discarded
entrails of animals.

Glancing out across the broad reaches of the river, Ru could surmise
the reason why his tribe had halted. But there was much about their
recent adventures that he could not surmise--much that perplexed and
troubled him, particularly since he saw several of his tribesmen
returning with red gashes in their heads and foreheads, or with broken
arms dangling limply from their shoulders.

Hence, while he stood awaiting his people's return, he asked Yonyo to
relate all that had happened during his absence.

To his disappointment, it was not Yonyo that replied. A faint smile
came into her eyes, though whether of acquiescence or refusal he
could not say; but, almost before she had had time to speak, Zubu
the Prattling-Brook--evidently thinking the question addressed to
her--launched into an eager recital.

"Ever since we left the Harr-Sizz River," she said, "bad spirits have
been with us. When we had gone as far from the stream as a man can run
at top speed, an evil sign appeared: a strange beast, with great paws
and growling lips, and two teeth as long as your arms. At this terrible
sight, we all ran for the trees. But before we could get there, we
heard a woman cry out horribly; and we saw the beast sneaking away into
the woods, trailing the body of poor old Awoo.

"When Zunzun the Marvel-Worker heard about this, he looked very sad,
and said that evil days were ahead. He thought that the good spirits
were angry because we had left our cave; and he told us the bad spirits
would come and take many more of us away. And he began to groan and
grumble, and I heard him say we should all turn around and go back to
our cave.

"But Grumgra the Growling Wolf swung his club very heavily, and there
was no one that would cry out when he was near. For a while we all
trembled and were much afraid, and there was nothing we could do. But
Zunzun the Marvel-Worker was right when he said we should go back to
our cave, for at last a terrible thing was made known. We had climbed
a long mountain and were on an open space near the top, when we all
stopped and Mumlo the Trail-Finder looked around him as if he did not
know whether to go up or down. Then someone heard him say we had gone
the wrong way! He did not think he had ever seen this mountain before!
And no one knew where we were or where we were going!"

Zubu paused, and her tiny black eyes were softened momentarily with a
sad expression. Then, while several of her kinsmen silently came up
and joined the group, she continued:

"You do not know, Ru, what a bad time we had then. You should have seen
the way Grumgra howled and swung his club, so that Mumlo had to keep
hidden all the time. Nearly everyone was screaming like a frightened
animal, but Grumgra's voice was the loudest of all. He cried out that
we must keep on toward the noonday sun even if we did not know the way.
And everyone was afraid to say no, until suddenly there came a yell
from one corner of our camp--and we saw the beast with the teeth as
long as a man's leg; and he ran away with another of our people.

"Some of us now cried out that this was a sign from the gods of the
woods that we must not go on. And Zunzun said they would punish us, and
turn us all into meat for the wild beasts; and then all the people were
so frightened that they were like wild beasts themselves. Many of us
shouted that we would not go on and let ourselves be eaten by the evil
things of the woods; and we said that we wanted to go back again to our
old cave. Then came Grumgra, swinging his club; and he roared that we
must go on; but this time we were too frightened to do as he told us.
Some of the other men swung their clubs and growled when Grumgra came
their way--yes, growled and swung their clubs against Grumgra himself!"

"And what then?" demanded Ru, in breathless interest, when the
Prattling-Brook came to a sudden stop. "Did the Growling Wolf have to
do as they wanted?"

"The Growling Wolf never does as anyone wants," pointed out Zubu; and
her eyes shone with admiration of the leader. "There was a fight--but
do we not know how any fight will end when Grumgra is in it? There
was much swinging of clubs, and much throwing of stones, and striking
of heavy blows, and shouting and hissing of oaths; and some were
on Grumgra's side, and some on Zunzun's side, and some on neither
side--they just fought for the fun of fighting. All the while half of
us women stood watching, and crying out for our own men to win; but the
other half did not want to watch, but left their babes and fought with
the men--and very good fighters they were, too!

"When at last everything was over, two of our people lay bleeding on
the ground, and could not rise again; and most of the rest of us were
hurt on the arms or legs or shoulders. But those on Grumgra's side were
not hurt so much as those on Zunzun's, for many a man had known the
touch of Grumgra's club. And in the end we all cried out that we would
do as Grumgra said, since one so mighty as he could not be wrong. And
then Grumgra and Zunzun were friends once more, and the Marvel-Worker
said we should go with Grumgra anywhere, for he was stronger than the
beast with the teeth as long as a man's whole body.

"Yet"--here Zubu hesitated perceptibly, and her face was overspread
by a rueful smile--"they have not been able to go with him past this
river. It is very deep, and so wide we cannot swim across, and no man
knows what to do, whether to go along its banks, or turn back, or--"

"Then did you meet no tribes of wild men?" interrupted Ru, unable to
suppress the question that had been uppermost in his mind for hours.
"You only fought with yourselves? You saw no men that eat other men?"

"Men that eat other men?" echoed several of the hearers, bursting into
laughter. And, remembering the old discredited legends about human
man-eaters, one of the women muttered to herself, "Ru has been hearing
silly stories!" And one or two nudged their neighbors and murmured
slyly, but loud enough for Ru to hear, "The Sparrow-Hearted is having
dreams again!"

But before Ru could frame a retort, a great lumbering figure burst into
view from a recess in the woods, and began to approach at a brisk pace.
And a silence fell across the little assemblage, for who could be merry
when Grumgra the Growling Wolf was drawing near?



                              CHAPTER XII

                      _The Tale of the Wind-God_


Without a word of greeting or recognition, Grumgra came shambling up
to Ru. Then, while his people drew back before him and he brought his
club with a thud to the ground, he burst into a bellowing query: "Where
have you been all these days, O Sparrow-Hearted? Why have you left your
people when they were in need of you? Woonoo the Hot-Blooded and Kuff
the Bear-Hunter brought word that you were drowned. Is it that you have
escaped from the great wind-spirit?"

"Yes, O chief, I have escaped from the great wind-spirit," replied Ru,
now thoroughly determined upon his course. "When all the people are
here, I will tell them how."

A hard light came into the black little eyes of Grumgra, and his heavy
brows contracted into a scowl. "Tell them, then!" he assented, gruffly.
"But let every word you speak be the truth! For if it be not truth, you
will have to be punished!"

Here Grumgra lightly fondled his club. And Ru--for all his
self-assurance--edged away fearfully as he beheld the hostile glitter
in the eyes of the chieftain.

And it was not without misgivings that he began his recital a few
minutes later. Standing in the center of a small open space, with his
tribesmen squatting in a rude circle about him, he felt just a little
disconcerted at finding himself once more the focus of the eyes of all
his people. Vividly he recalled the last occasion--when he had received
the brand that still disfigured his throat and chest; and he well
knew that his failure today might incur another and even more painful
penalty.

"Make yourselves ready to hear wonderful things, my people," he began.
"It is very strange that I am with you now, for I was drowned in the
Harr-Sizz River, and my body was taken far away by the waters. Woonoo
the Hot-Blooded and Kuff the Bear-Hunter will tell you so, for they saw
me drown. Is that not so, my brothers?"

With a smile, Ru turned and pointed to Kuff and Woonoo; and both
growled unwilling agreement.

"Now do you want to know how it is I came back to you?" resumed Ru.
"Ask the river-spirit, and he will tell you! I lay long under the
water, and it was cold and wet and dark, and I could not cry out and
could not even breathe. At last, after a long, long while, I heard
voices speaking--strange and terrible voices as loud as thunder. One
was the voice of the river-spirit, and the other was the voice of
that great wind-spirit who blows beyond the last mountains. And the
wind-spirit said, 'Let me have Ru! I want him! He is mine!' But the
river-spirit answered, 'No! I will keep him! He is mine!'

"They argued and argued so long I thought many suns must have gone down
and come up again while I lay there in the water. And the wind roared,
and the river rushed and foamed; but they did not know which was to
have me. In the end, they said, 'Let us each take half of him! Let his
body stay here in the water, but let the wind have that part of him
that thinks and feels.' And straightway this was done.

"Now I did not feel cold and wet any more, and it was no longer dark.
But I flew through the air like a bird, and I felt the arms of the
wind-god about me; and I went over wide forests and high mountains,
until I came to a great cloud all bright with the colors of sunset. And
in this cloud was the lair of the wind-god; and he led me in, up into
a great cave whose walls were red and yellow like the falling leaves
in the season of frost. And he bade me stay there and be happy, for I
was with friends--and there I met Grop the Tree-Climber and Wamwa the
Snake-Eyed and all our tribesmen that we lost long, long ago and shall
see no more.

"But I could not be happy, for I remembered my people here in the
forest, and I knew that they needed me. And I begged the wind-god
to let me go, but he would not. He said, 'No one has ever left here
yet'--and so I thought I must stay there more days than there are sands
by the bank of a river. And it would have been thus, had I not done a
wonderful thing for the wind-god. Soon after I came there, a strange
beast walked into that cave--like a bear, but much larger, for his
claws were the size of Grumgra's club, and each of his teeth was as big
as a man. And his eyes were of fire, and his whole body shone like the
sun, and when he growled I thought it was thundering. Even the wind-god
was afraid and did not know what to do; and even he might have been
killed, if I had not thought of a way to fight the beast.

"'O wind-god,' I said, 'blind his eyes with your mists!' And this the
wind-god did; and soon the great beast walked in a fog, and could
not see any more. And it howled fiercely, like many wolves, and fell
through a hole in the cave floor, and was killed on the rocks below!"

Ru paused; and two hundred pairs of black eyes gaped at him in
unconcealed wonder.

"Tell us more! Tell us more!" came several eager cries, when the delay
threatened to become protracted. And, satisfied with the astonished
but not incredulous looks that greeted him on all sides, Ru continued
blandly:

"When I told the wind-god how to save his cave, he was so happy that he
blew all around me with a great glad noise, like that of waters falling
in the forest. Then after a while he grew quiet again, and came over to
me so gently that I could hardly feel him blowing upon my cheeks. 'A
man like you,' he said to me, 'is very much needed by your people. You
would do great things for them. If the river-god will let me, I will
reward you by sending you back to them.'

"And then suddenly I had left the cave, and the wind-spirit was lifting
me through the air again; and I crossed back over the great forests and
tall mountains, until I saw the Harr-Sizz River running like a snake
beneath me. And I was very glad, for I knew that I was coming back
home. But soon I felt myself go down into the river again; and it was
cold and dark and wet, and I lay on the bottom once more, and could not
move or speak.

"But I heard the wind-god talking to the river-god. 'Let Ru go!' he
said. 'His people need him! He will do great things for them! I will
give up my half of him, if you will give up yours.' But at first the
river-god did not want to give up his half of me, for it was hard for
him to get someone he liked so well. And the wind-god had to blow
very hard and get very angry and stir up big waves before at last the
river-god let me come up from the bottom and walk once more on the land.

"And that, my people, is my story. For two days already I have been out
of the river; and all that time I have been coming back to you, so that
I might be with you when you needed me. The wind-god has shown me how
to find you, and will always be at my side and help me."

Ru ceased, and dropped to a seat among his fellows. For a moment an
awed silence held the audience; then, as the spell was gradually
dispersed, a torrent of questions burst forth; and Ru was showered with
innumerable inquiries as to the wind-spirit and the river-spirit, and
what they looked like and how they acted, and how it felt to be under
the river and how terrifying it was to see the shining monster in the
cave of the clouds. Although sometimes hard-pressed, Ru answered every
question with great seriousness; and, in so doing, he added vastly
to his descriptions, and supplied much detail of a sort to make his
hearers stare and marvel.

Meanwhile many of the people sat about in small groups, chattering
among themselves, discussing Ru's miraculous story. "What do you think?
Is it true?" one would ask another; and brows would be contracted and
grave heads would nod sagely: "Yes, it must be true, for did not Woonoo
and Kuff see Ru drown?" But in other quarters the opinion would run in
a different vein, although to much the same effect: "How could Ru think
of such a story if it was not true? Besides, he spoke like one who
tells the truth.... Do you not remember the tales our mothers told of
how the wind-god takes dead spirits to his cave in the clouds?"

Yet, despite the general acceptance of Ru's story, there were still
one or two skeptics. In most cases the doubters dared not even express
their views, for fear of being overwhelmed instantly by derision and
laughter; but soon it developed that there were some dissenters to whom
all must listen respectfully.

After most of the questioners had flung forth their queries and been
silenced by Ru's resourceful tongue, a more formidable adversary stood
up suddenly amid the throng. It was Zunzun the Marvel-Worker; and the
sullen glow in his dark eyes seemed not to bode well for Ru.

"My people, do not let yourselves believe lies!" he urged, as he
pointed a bony finger malevolently at his adversary. "Is it that you
are all becoming like the Sparrow-Hearted, to listen to such foolish
stories and think them true? No man has ever come back from the cave of
the wind-spirit, and no man ever can come back. Let Ru show us that he
has been in the cave of the wind-spirit! Let him show that we have need
of him, as he says! Come, let him give us something more than empty air
and words!"

And shaking his grizzled right arm menacingly while his eyes gleamed
hostility and wrath, Zunzun slumped back to his seat on the grass.

Even while Ru opened his mouth to reply, and the throng waited
gaping-eyed, a larger and more redoubtable figure towered gravely in
their midst. And little murmurs of excitement traveled from end to end
of the assemblage as the bellowing voice of Grumgra broke forth.

"Zunzun speaks rightly," he began. "The Sparrow-Hearted has been
telling us nothing but lies. If he has been to the cave of the
wind-god, he must give some sign, so that we may believe him. He
must show what he can do for our people! He must call his friend the
wind-god to help him!"

With a sneer that was half a snarl, Grumgra paused momentarily. Then,
lifting his club high in the air and bringing it down with a thud upon
the grass, he resumed: "After the sun has gone down and come up, and
then gone down and come up again, Ru must show us that he speaks truth.
If he cannot show us, he will be punished! And this time his punishment
will not be such as we give to a child!"

And, turning to Ru with a sudden mildness that was almost genial, the
Growling Wolf inquired: "But maybe you do not want to wait so long, O
Sparrow-Hearted? Maybe you can show us now some sign from the clouds."

"I do not need to show you any sign from the clouds," replied Ru,
slowly and thoughtfully. "But listen to this, O chief. The wind-spirit
told me that he has blown past the caves of strange wild men, who
wander in these woods and kill and eat other men. Be careful, O chief!
For some day we may meet these beast-men! And you may find them more
terrible than wolves or bears! And then you will know that I spoke
truth!"

Grumgra, merely grinning incredulously, did not reply. But from
scores of throats came a rippling laughter of unbelief. Many
of the people--they who had not doubted Ru's word about the
wind-spirit--turned to their neighbors, and murmured: "This time
the Sparrow-Hearted tells us lies! The Sparrow-Hearted only wants
to frighten us!" And prolonged and hearty was the merriment at Ru's
incredible report.



                             CHAPTER XIII

                      _Ru Accepts the Challenge_


On the day following Ru's return, a badly needed hunt was held--for the
tribe was running short of provisions, and many were the complaints
that there was not meat enough. Several hours were occupied in digging
pits in the rough earth by means of rude flint spades, and in covering
these cavities with grass and the green limbs of trees. Since this
was unfamiliar territory, however, much more than the usual time was
necessary for stationing the men in a circle about the snares before
the howling dash upon the prey. Yet even after the most careful
precautions--and Grumgra, wielding his club, saw that the precautions
were careful indeed--the hunt was a failure; all that the men gained
for their efforts was two small deer and one half-grown boar.

But there was one who took no part in the hunt. While his tribesmen
set off in pursuit of the game, Ru started away by himself along the
bank of the river. In his gray eyes, as he ambled slowly up-stream,
there was a contemplative glow; while his ample brow was contracted in
thoughtful furrows. He realized that he must do something spectacular
before another day had passed; otherwise, his story about the wind-god
would be disbelieved, and the torture of the branding would be as
nothing compared to that which awaited him.

But what was he to do? He did not know; and in his mind was merely the
vaguest idea about floating logs propelled by long poles ... an idea so
indefinite that it flashed into his consciousness and flashed out again
as something alluring, provocative, and elusive as a dream.

He had strolled perhaps two or three miles before a lucky
chance--coupled with his own quick perception--offered a solution of
his problem. Rounding a turn in the river, he found himself on the
shores of a placid little lake or pond opening into the stream. It was
so small that he could have passed around it in two or three minutes;
and no doubt he would soon have left it behind him had not his eyes
been caught by that which filled him with sudden gladness. Here, in
truth, was a lucky find! Half covered by the shallow water, half
stranded on the sandy beach, were not less than six or eight trunks of
dead trees.

It was not a minute before Ru had renewed his experiments in
navigation. Using his club as paddle, he launched himself toward the
middle of the pond; while, standing on a huge log, he balanced himself
precariously. Or--to be more precise--he hardly balanced himself at
all; time after time the log rolled and he toppled into the water, and
before long he realized that it would be wiser to seat himself, as
formerly, astride the log.

This he was about to do when a second log, released by his efforts,
chanced to brush gently against that on which he stood. For a minute
the two floated side by side, moving almost as one across the calm
surface of the pond. And Ru, hoping to gain a better foothold,
stationed one foot on each log--with the result that the two glided
abruptly apart, and he was precipitated once more into the water.

But this time he emerged a wiser man. A sudden idea had come to him--an
idea so simple that he could not understand why he had not thought of
it before, and yet so amazing that at first he could only hold his
breath and wonder if he were not dreaming. Suppose that he found some
way of holding the two logs together!--would he not have a craft on
which he might stand without fear of being plunged into the pond? Would
he not be able to ride as he pleased across the waters, propelling
himself by his pole, and so winning a might that even the river-god
could not challenge? And would he not thereby surprise and dazzle his
people? make them believe that he had indeed wonderful powers, powers
that proved him especially favored by the spirits of the wind and
waters?

So Ru reflected--but he did not spend much time on fruitless reveries.
The problem before him was a practical one; and, with all the practical
sense at his command, he set about to solve it. In constructing his
new craft, the one important step would be to lash the two logs
firmly together--and how could this be accomplished? Fortunately, Ru
recalled how members of his tribe, in carrying fagots from the
woods, had long been accustomed to bind them together with the tough
stems and tendrils of creeping plants; and, moreover, he had long ago
learned just what plants were most useful for such purposes and where
to find them. So it was a matter of but an hour to go browsing through
the woods, and, with the aid of flint implements, to cut off fibers
enough to bind as many logs as need be.

Late that afternoon, as the Umbaddu huntsmen, laden with their meager
trophies, returned gloomily from the chase, they were startled by an
extraordinary sight. Coming out through a clump of bushes onto the
river bank, they paused with exclamations of wonder and fear--in the
midst of the waters was a spectacle such as no eye had ever rested on
before since the world's beginning. Was that a man standing on a little
platform in the center of the river, standing in one place and yet
moving slowly down-stream, while pushing and pushing with a long pole?
Was it a man, or was it a god? For what man had ever been able to stand
on the waters without being drowned?

"The bad spirits of the river! The bad spirits of the river are coming
after us!" cried some of the more superstitious. Hysterical with
dread, they flung themselves down on the ground, and began to pray
frantically. At the same time, some of their fellows fled shrieking
back to the woods, and some merely watched and trembled--and all the
while that terrible figure on the river kept drawing nearer, nearer.
At length it was no longer a vague black blur, but had taken on
definite outlines. And, strange to say, those outlines were familiar!
The watchers were amazed to see the hairy limbs and deerskin robe of
one whom they recognized.

Or, if their eyes bore false reports, could their ears also deceive
them? Was that not a well-known voice crying out, faintly and from
afar, and yet clearly and in their own tongue: "My tribesmen, my
tribesmen, look what the river-god has given me! Come, and see what the
river-god has given!"

[Illustration: _Ru walks the waters_]

And while scores of gleaming black eyes stared out across the waters
in consternation and wonder, Ru the Sparrow-Hearted rode by on his way
down the river.

Half an hour later an excited group had gathered on the bank by the
tribal camping-place. Men were shouting, women gibbering and crying,
children racing back and forth with tumultuous exclamations; and all
eyes were fastened upon a solitary form in midstream. But Ru, while
he could not but know of the uproar he had caused, seemed in no hurry
to come to land. He appeared not to hear his people calling, but by
turns allowed himself to drift slowly down-stream, and then paddled
energetically up-stream until he had regained every lost inch.

Never before had he been so much admired. "It is magic! A wizard's
magic!" murmured the people; and many were the prayers offered by
frightened lips and awestricken minds to Ru and the river-god. Even
Zunzun the Marvel-Worker--he for whom magic was a daily affair--watched
in a sullen silence that made his amazement only too apparent. Even
Grumgra the Growling Wolf--he who believed in the might of clubs
far more than the might of spirits--stood staring open-mouthed and
gaping-eyed toward that wonder on the river. Whatever he may have felt,
he expressed himself only by an occasional growl; and it was not anger
or contempt that shone from those glittering ferret eyes, but rather
bewilderment tinged with what may have been a hint of fear.

Not the least astonished of the party, and not the least interested,
was Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed. She stared out toward the waters as
intently as any of the others, and her cries expressed as much of
wonder and awe; yet, after the spectacle had lasted for some minutes,
she succeeded in veiling her surprise, and went so far as to chaff her
two companions--Kuff the Bear-Hunter and Woonoo the Hot-Blooded.

"See! There is a real man!" she cried, pointing to Ru. "He stands
on a log--and it carries him out across the waters! It is really
nothing--any of you could do the same--but none of you are brave
enough! No, neither you, Kuff, nor you, Woonoo, are such a man as Ru!
You could not go walking on the river!" And long and scornful was the
laughter of the Smiling-Eyed.

"I could do it! It is easy!" pleaded Woonoo, stung by her contempt.

"I too!" chimed in Kuff, not to be outdone.

"I do not see you do it!" she flung her challenge.

For a moment Kuff and Woonoo stared at one another in uncertainty;
confusion and fear shone in their eyes.

"I do not see you do it! I only hear your words!" taunted Yonyo. "Are
you going to let the Sparrow-Hearted laugh at you?"

This gibe was more than Woonoo could endure. With an angry cry, he
pointed to a fallen tree that lay near the river at the verge of the
forest. "Come!" he growled, and, with Kuff at his heels, started
hastily away.

By means of a tremendous straining and tugging, the two men pulled
the log into the water. Before they had succeeded, a crowd had been
attracted by their noise and exertions, and had gathered shouting about
them. Among the onlookers, the gigantic form of the chieftain was
conspicuous.

It was Woonoo that made the first attempt. Mounting the log, while his
watchers murmured in astonishment and delight, he pushed with his club
against the bottom of the stream--and for a moment he seemed to be
emulating Ru, for a moment he too seemed favored of the river-god, and
balanced himself securely on the surface of the gliding log.

A proud and envied figure he was as the distance between him and the
land gradually widened--one pace, two paces, five paces, until he
seemed to be doing all that Ru had done!

"Look at Woonoo! Woonoo is walking upon the waters!" cried the excited
people. "The river-god does what Woonoo tells him to!"

Even Grumgra, forgetting his club, seemed to be mightily impressed; he
yelled and clamored with the others, exclaiming in a thundering bass:
"Look at Woonoo! Woonoo is an enchanter! Walk all the way across the
river, Woonoo! Walk all the way across the river!"

But, just when the applause was at its highest, something happened.
Just what it was that happened, Woonoo himself could never say, for it
was all over too quickly for him to know. Perhaps the log struck a snag
in the stream, perhaps it merely rolled and turned over, perhaps Woonoo
was so overwhelmed by the cheering that he, forgot to keep his balance.
At any rate, all that he knew was that one moment he was standing like
a conqueror on the log, and the next had gone plunging through space
and felt the cold waters closing over him.

But as, wildly sputtering, he arose from his unpremeditated bath,
tumultuous laughter came to his ears. And, turning his eyes shoreward,
he beheld scores of amused faces shining derisively.

A sobered and much meeker man, he waded slowly to land, while the
unoccupied log went drifting away with the current.

But his misfortunes were not over, for no sooner had he reached the
bank than he was confronted by the irate Grumgra.

"You are more foolish than the Sparrow-Hearted!" bawled the chieftain.
And the great club was lifted, and came down with a resounding smack.

Howling with agony, Woonoo clutched a bruised shin and limped away
toward the woods, while after him rang the mocking laughter of his
people.

Not the least contemptuous was the laughter of the Smiling-Eyed.
"Is there no man among you?" she ridiculed, as she pointed to the
retreating form of the abject Woonoo. "Must you let yourselves all be
laughed at by the Sparrow-Hearted?"

So saying, she turned again to the river bank, and bent her eyes upon
that lonely figure, far out in the stream, who was now beginning to
propel himself slowly landward.



                              CHAPTER XIV

                       _The Treachery of Yonyo_


It was an excited audience that made way before Ru as he steered
himself to land. Heedless of the waiting throng, he jumped into the
water as soon as the head of his craft struck the river bottom; then,
by means of strenuous straining and tugging, he pulled the catamaran up
upon the bank, lest it be borne away by the current.

In this task he was greatly impeded by the people that swarmed about
him, gibbering and shouting, gabbling incessant questions, staring at
the raft in wide-eyed curiosity.

"Do not touch it!" Ru felt forced to cry, in exasperation. "If you
do, the river-god will strike you down!" The threat proved effective;
the people at once backed away to a respectful distance, and stood
regarding Ru and his handiwork with a reverence that was a compound of
wonder and fear.

"Now do you not believe the river-god is my friend?" exclaimed Ru, when
at last the raft was safely beached. "Do I not speak truth when I say
that the river-god and the wind-god have done great deeds for me?"

Not a person had a word to say in reply; and, in the midst of an
impressive silence, Ru started away. There was none who raised a hand
or spoke a word to stop him; even the glowering Grumgra and the glaring
Zunzun seemed not less impressed than the others, and gazed after him
in a sort of stunned respect.

But there was one who did make bold to follow the retreating Ru. She
pursued him not directly but in a wide ambling curve, and her course
was not apparent; yet it was not many minutes before Ru, approaching
the edge of the woods, heard a light voice calling behind him, and
turned to find himself confronted by--Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed!

Truly, she deserved her name now if ever, for her face was like a burst
of laughter. Her large black eyes burned with brilliant fires beneath
beetling ridges; her gleaming white teeth shone merrily by contrast
with the tan of her face and the black of her dense, loose-flowing
locks; her manner was as simple and ingratiating as that of a child who
comes to crave a favor.

Ru, although he still felt anger against her, could not but be
impressed. He thought that he had never beheld anyone quite so
beautiful before; once again a strange, unaccountable feeling, half
tender and reverential, took possession of him; and he experienced
vague stirrings of a longing which he could not understand, and which
could be at once fierce and sweet.

"So the Sparrow-Hearted has worked wonders!" she exclaimed, not waiting
for the preliminary of a greeting. "Soon we will call you Ru the
Marvel-Worker! Zunzun will envy you--he has no marvel like yours! Tell
me, Ru, how did you do such great deeds?"

"I have told you already," he returned, eying her questioningly. "Have
I not told all the people about it?"

"But there are things you have not told them!" she cried. "I know there
are things you have not told them! Let me hear those things, Ru!" And
she flung herself down upon a clump of grass, and motioned to him
invitingly.

Therefore what was Ru to do but obey?

"Tell me all that you did!" she urged, smiling her most ingratiating
smile as he took a seat beside her. "Did the river-god and the wind-god
show you how to walk upon the waters? Or did you find out all by
yourself?"

"Do you not believe it was as I said?" he asked, regarding her gravely.
"Do you not believe I spoke truth?"

"I know you spoke truth!" she assured him, with what may have been a
trifle too much emphasis. And the smiles rippled across her face as she
proceeded: "But I wish the gods had not helped you so much. I wish you
had found out all by yourself how to walk upon the waters. That would
be a much bigger deed!"

"I did find out all by myself!" Ru found himself admitting; then
stopped suddenly, fearing he had said too much.

"Did you? Did you?" exclaimed Yonyo, clapping her hands delightedly.
"Tell me about it! Tell me!"

Confused and embarrassed, Ru did not know what to do except to confess
everything.

And so, beginning with how he had been saved by the drifting log in
the Harr-Sizz River, and how he had propelled himself across the lake
and later rescued himself from the man-eating savages, Ru gave Yonyo
a full account of his experiences as navigator. He dwelt at greatest
length upon the way in which he had made a raft by lashing two logs
together; and he spared no details in his description, particularly
since Yonyo hung eagerly upon his every word, questioned him when she
did not understand, made him repeat when she was in doubt, and all the
while regarded him with such wondering and admiring eyes that he felt
his adventures had been worth while merely in order to make this moment
possible.

When he had finished, she beamed upon him genially, and told him that
surely, after all, he was favored by the gods, for without the gods'
help no one could have done all that he had done. Her manner was so
affable that he felt again the old curious impulse to put his arms
about her and draw her close. But perhaps she did not know what was in
his mind, for just when he was about to act upon his desire, she rose
abruptly to her feet, and started tripping merrily away across the
fields.

"Let us go back to camp!" she called; and though he cried out his
objections, she danced away all the more swiftly. Not to be daunted
so easily, he set out in pursuit; but she increased her speed; and all
the way back she led him a gay chase, for women in those days were
fleet-footed and skilled in saving themselves by flight.

Immediately upon his return to the camp, he was waylaid by tribesmen,
who deluged him with questions; and while he was busy attempting to
answer, Yonyo disappeared among the crowd.

That evening, while Ru sat with his kinsmen before the camp-fire,
chewing at his scanty portion of meat and at some tough, uncooked roots
he had gathered, there occurred an event that brought Yonyo back to his
mind in no pleasant fashion. While scores of men and women munched and
munched contentedly and the sound of busy jaws mingled with that of the
crackling fires and jabbering tongues, the tall form of Grumgra was
seen to arise; and the thunderous voice of Grumgra lifted itself above
that of the multitude.

"One of our people has been telling us great lies!" he proclaimed,
wasting no time about coming to the point. "He has said that the
wind-god and the river-god showed him how to walk upon the waters. But
the wind-god and the river-god did not show him anything at all. One of
our people heard him say that he only tied two logs together, just as
we sometimes tie fagots. There is no magic in that at all. Is it not
so, Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed?"

And Grumgra nodded significantly toward Yonyo, before continuing:
"After the sun comes up again, I myself will show you how to walk upon
the waters. I will tie two logs together, and then one of you may go
across the river just as the Sparrow-Hearted has done. Who wants to be
the first to do that?"

Grumgra paused.... An utter silence fell across the assemblage.

"You may do it!" pronounced the chieftain, designating one of the most
stalwart-looking of his followers. "You, Kimo the Hairy Mammoth!"

Kimo shuddered; a frightened light flashed from his tiny black eyes.
But he answered not a word.

"Kimo will show you that the Sparrow-Hearted has learned no magic at
all," concluded the Growling Wolf. "He will walk across the waters very
easily--and after that we will punish the Sparrow-Hearted for telling
us lies!"

Titters and loud guffaws greeted this speech; and, from the scornful
glances in his neighbors' eyes, Ru perceived that his prestige had
dwindled toward the vanishing-point.

But it was not his prestige that troubled him now, nor even his
impending punishment--it was the treachery of her whom he had adored.
Could she actually have told Grumgra the secret he had confided for
her ears alone? If so, she was not to be forgiven! Without being able
to say why, he felt that a great wrong had been done him. And anger,
proportionate to his very helplessness, flamed to life within him. He
was gripped by a passion that was almost murderous, and he would have
been glad to strike out violently to relieve his overburdened mind and
wounded feelings.

Fortunately, it was not possible to strike out violently just then;
he had to content himself with clenching and unclenching his fists
furiously and kicking savagely at the unoffending soil. That night he
could not sleep, but stared out wide-eyed through the long hours at the
pale twinkling stars and the weird flickering firelight. When morning
came, his frenzy had spent itself; he felt little besides a great
weariness, and a disgust that was made up in part of his resentment at
the world, and in part of an insatiable vague melancholy. Yet he did
find the energy to move his lips in a whispered prayer--and, had one
drawn close, one might have heard an invocation to the river-god to
bring down vengeance upon his betrayers.

The last star had hardly been extinguished when the camp was astir.
Among the first to rise, Ru observed that gigantic figure which he
loathed above all others. He noticed apprehensively that Grumgra
appeared unusually cheerful this morning, and that, accompanied by two
or three of his henchmen, he set off toward the woods with a jauntiness
which bespoke no good design.

It was two or three hours later when Grumgra returned. His arrival
created a consternation equaled only by that which Ru had caused the
day before. Wading through the shallow water near the river bank, he
and his helpers were pulling a raft similar to that which Ru had made!
Similar, but not quite the same, for it was longer and the logs were
thicker, which made it more impressive and also more unwieldy; and the
vines and creepers that bound it were fastened in two places instead
of in four.

Mounting the bank, the Growling Wolf stood regarding his handiwork with
every sign of pleasure, while the vociferous multitude pressed close
to see. "Grumgra's magic is better than Ru's!" they cried, jubilantly.
"The river-god does great deeds for Grumgra! He has made a bigger
wonder than Ru can make!" And many were the exclamations of awe and
admiration at the cleverness of Grumgra.

"Now I will show what big lies the Sparrow-Hearted tells! Kimo the
Hairy Mammoth, you walk upon the waters!" ordered the chieftain,
pointing to the bulky form of the chosen one, who stood cowering in the
rear.

Urged by his companions, Kimo came slowly forward, although his knees
seemed unsteady beneath him, and terror shone from his eyes.

"Take this club," Grumgra continued, thrusting the long, straight limb
of a dead tree into Kimo's hand. "Take it, and push yourself to the
middle of the river! It is very easy--even the Sparrow-Hearted can do
it!"

But, at the crucial moment, the Hairy Mammoth stood hesitating, and
casting desirous eyes toward the forest. Had not strong arms restrained
him, he might have been tempted to make a dash for liberty and life.
"O chief," he pleaded, "the river-god wants to take me. I cannot swim
farther than a strong man can jump. Let some other--"

But Grumgra's club was raised like a challenge, and a foreboding scowl
came across the chieftain's face.

Understanding the strength of this argument, the unlucky one stepped
toward the waiting logs.

In the moment that elapsed before he had mounted the raft, the throng
was startled by an unexpected voice.

"Anger the river-god, and he will strike you down!" came the warning of
Ru, whose clear tones rang with the courage of desperation. "Terrible
is the punishment of the river-god!"

There was a moment's silence; several of the people shuddered; Kimo
again glanced longingly toward the inaccessible woods. But in an
instant there came the deep reassuring voice of Grumgra. "What is this
the Sparrow-Hearted says? Who would be stopped by the Sparrow-Hearted?
He speaks only empty words! And he who speaks empty words shall be
punished! Go, Kimo! Go out and walk upon the waters!"

Still trembling, Kimo stepped into the water, and hauled himself
clumsily onto the raft. Then, standing with one leg planted on each
log, he began to push his pole awkwardly and yet powerfully against the
river bottom. And the raft, responsive, slid slowly out into the waters!

Eagerly the people crowded forward to see, until, in the excitement,
not a few were shoved into the river. But no one seemed to notice; all
eyes were fixed upon the retreating figure. And Kimo, finding himself
perched safely upon the raft, appeared to regain confidence; he began
to push and paddle as if accustomed to manipulating rafts all his life;
and once or twice he even paused to wave to his gaping tribespeople.

Farther and farther into the waters he propelled himself; farther
and farther, until a stone thrown by the strongest man could not
have reached him; farther and farther, until he became but a vague
and minute black blur, with features no longer distinguishable, with
voice scarcely audible even when he shouted. Now he was approaching
the middle of the river, and the current was carrying him slightly
down-stream, yet he still struggled toward the opposite bank; now the
head of his raft was buffeted and turned by the waters, and he was
straining to keep it straight; now he seemed actually past the middle,
seemed actually to be drawing near the land beyond--when suddenly he
was to be seen no more.

There was a splash, a far-off, quickly muffled scream--and two logs,
bound together at one end but disentangled at the other, were floating
haphazard down the current. From just behind the logs came a series
of small splashes; then a hoarse cry, then another hoarse cry, like a
half-stifled call for help; then still feebler splashes; then suddenly
only silence, and the undisturbed wide current, and the two logs
drifting slowly down-stream.

The people gaped in amazement. For a moment they did not seem to
understand what had happened; then, as realization gradually came to
them, they uttered low cries of fear and horror. Their glaring eyes
were shocked and frightened; and first one and then another began to
pray to the river-god, until all had joined in a distracted chorus,
and there burst forth a tumult of pleas and groans and mutterings to
the god of the waters not to punish them for their daring, and not to
believe that they would willingly do him wrong.



                              CHAPTER XV

                     _The Magic of the River-God_


The disastrous failure of Kimo the Hairy Mammoth had more than one
interesting sequel for Ru.

Not least important was the change it marked in his relations with
Yonyo. Only a few hours after Kimo's fatal effort at navigation, Ru
encountered Yonyo at the edge of the meadow where the tribe was still
encamped. She was obviously glad to see him; her sharp black eyes shone
with pleasure; her broad dark face grew bright with sudden smiles.

"Ru, you have done wonders!" she commended him. "Only you are loved by
the river-god! No other can do as you do! No, not one--"

Here she stopped suddenly short, for the look in his face was not
reassuring.

For a moment he stood staring at her as a man might stare at the foe he
is about to throttle. His nostrils were dilated; his breath came fast;
his fingers were clenched significantly about his club.

"Ru, what evil spirit has entered you?" she cried, in alarm.

But her words seemed only to provide the spur he required. With an
inchoate growl, he strode suddenly forward; and his club, clenched
more tightly than ever, was uplifted as if to strike.

Yonyo screamed, and darted away. Too often had she seen women
struck--too often not to believe Ru in earnest. Without even a backward
glance to see if she were pursued, she raced all the way back to her
tribespeople.

With a black scowl, Ru stood staring after her. He did not know whether
he would actually have hit her; he only knew that a blow would have
been small repayment for all she had made him suffer. And, strange to
say, a feeling of self-satisfaction, almost of exultation, came over
him as he watched her flee; he felt strong with a strength he had never
known before; he was almost ready to swagger with triumph, for now at
last he, the Sparrow-Hearted, was acting as a man should act!

It did not even occur to him to wonder whether, by his wrath, he might
not have alienated Yonyo altogether. At the moment, he did not care.
Moreover, had he not often watched beaten women come cringing back to
their men?

But before the issue between him and the Smiling-Eyed could be decided,
he was confronted with a second result of Kimo's unhappy experiment.

On the evening of the following day, Ru was surprised to find himself
again the center of attraction before the tribal camp-fire. It was
a time of general complaining and gloom, for another hunt had just
been held in order to replenish the tribe's dwindling larder; and the
hunters had suffered more heavily than the hunted, for while one small
deer had been brought down, two of the men had succumbed before the
charge of an infuriated woolly rhinoceros.

Among the women there were lamentations, and among the children cries
of hunger, as the tribe engaged in its meager repast of roots and
berries seasoned with just a sprinkling of meat. The only exception
occurred in the case of Grumgra, who feasted abundantly on the day's
catch of venison.

But Grumgra's right to a major part of the supplies was taken as a part
of the necessary order of things, and occasioned no comment; and it
had nothing to do with the cries of discontent that shrilled from all
sides, "What are we to do? What is to become of us, what is to become
of us?" mourned some of the more dismal-minded folk; and many were the
complaints that they had left the safety of their cave behind them, and
many the prayers to the fire-god, the wind-god, and the gods of the
woods and waters.

Seldom had Ru seen his people in so despondent a mood. Here, sprawled
in the long grass before the fire, a three-year-old was wailing, or
a scrawny infant screaming for food its mother could not give it;
yonder an old man mumbled and muttered about the plenty he had known
in the old days; a little farther on, a haggard group sat chattering,
with occasional groans and sighs audible to the entire assemblage;
and now and then, from any corner of the encampment, there would come
a series of growls and frightful snarls, when some man would snatch
at a bone being chewed by his neighbor, and the two would fight like
famished dogs. But no one paid any heed to such scuffles, nor to the
lamentations of his neighbors; and the firelight, leaping and wavering
like some menacing giant, illuminated only sullen apelike faces, and
heavy brows contorted in dreary scowls, and lips that grumbled, and
eyes that spoke in silent complaint.

"Grumgra, come help us!" pleaded many a voice that had tired of vainly
invoking the gods of fire, water, and air. "Grumgra, come tell us what
to do! Shall we not go back to our cave? If we stay here we shall
starve, and our children will die; and soon there will be only our
bones to be picked by the vulture and the hyena."

At first Grumgra made only brusk answer to these appeals. "Zunzun
the Marvel-Worker will help you!" he snapped. And Zunzun, coming
unwillingly to the rescue, took his place before the fire. With his
most eloquent gesticulations, he begged and implored the god of the
flames to rescue his people; but even after he had worked himself into
a frenzy and puffed and sweated profusely, there was no sign that the
god had heard him.

Then, with unheard-of temerity, one of the men began to shout: "We do
not need the fire-god! We need the river-god!" And Zunzun, although
apparently he had had enough of magic for one evening, was compelled
to execute a series of new incantations addressed to the god of the
waters.

After he had finished, and while a few of his followers still chanted
the prayers devoutly, Zunzun was seen to approach Grumgra as if on
secret business. For some minutes the two of them sat in a group apart,
talking eagerly in low tones and lifting their clubs threateningly
whenever anyone ventured too close.

At length Grumgra sprang up decisively, and stalked energetically
toward the fire. "My people, I must have speech with you!" he declared,
in his usual bellow.

A murmur of excitement trembled through the assemblage, and all drew
close to hear.

"We must all go away from here very soon," he announced, after a
moment's pause. "The land of the noonday sun still lies before us; and
the river must not stop us, for if we stay here, we will all starve. Is
it not so, my people?"

A chorus of groans and sighs signified the agreement of the tribe.

"But how shall we cross the river?" Grumgra continued. "The river-god
must show us the way--and there is only one of us that the river-god
loves. That one is Ru the Sparrow-Hearted. We must ask Ru to speak to
the river-god, so that we may go across. Tell us, Sparrow-Hearted, will
you speak to the river-god?"

And the chieftain lifted the club high above his head, as if to
indicate that a refusal on Ru's part would be summarily treated.

Rising from where he sat among the shadows to the rear, Ru strode
forward until the firelight was full upon him.

"I will speak to the river-god," he began, while scores of serious
little eyes, burning with a new eagerness, were fixed intently upon his
slender form. "If you will do all that I tell you, I will find out how
to take you across the river. But if you will not do as I tell you, the
river-god will devour you! You remember what he did to Kimo the Hairy
Mammoth, do you not, my people?"

Grumbled exclamations of fear and horror signified that the people had
not forgotten.

"I am the only one that can speak to the river-god," Ru continued,
severely. "I know a magic that will save you. But if I use that magic,
what will you do for me?"

Ru paused; a hard glitter came into his eyes. "If I use that magic,
what will you do for me?" he repeated, with the manner of one that
strikes a shrewd bargain.

"What do you want us to do for you?" growled Grumgra, his thick lips
twisting into a snarl. "There is nothing we can give. Would you have us
throw you the meat we have not?"

"It is not meat I ask!" flung back Ru. "It is something I like better
than meat!"

Scores of eyes were fixed upon him in uncomprehending amazement, while
earnestly he continued: "For a long, long time, my people, you have not
treated me as a brother should be treated. You have said bad things
against me, and struck me with sticks and stones, and burned me with
fire; and there has been evil laughter in your eyes when you did not
understand the things I did. And deep within me there has been a great
pain; but you could not see it or know it was there. If I help you,
should you not try to take that pain away? Should you not show me that
you will treat me as a brother?"

"How can we show you?" grumbled the chieftain, fumbling with his club
impatiently. "You ask that which no man can do!"

"I ask that which every man can do!" insisted Ru. "Always you have
called me by a name which does not belong to me, and which I do not
like. Take that name away, and call me by my right name--and I will ask
the river-god to do great things for you. If not--" Here Ru paused, as
if to indicate that, unless his request were granted, the gods would
avenge him.

"And what does the Sparrow-Hearted want to be called?" sneered Grumgra.

"The Eagle-Hearted!" replied Ru, without an instant's hesitation.

A little murmur of surprise ran through the assemblage.

"The Sparrow-Hearted cannot become the Eagle-Hearted just because he
asks it!" thundered the Growling Wolf, glowering menacingly.

"And our people cannot cross the river just because they ask it!"
countered Ru, retreating far enough to escape the swinging club.

"Call him the Eagle-Hearted, the Eagle-Hearted, the Eagle-Hearted!
Only let him do as we want!" came a multitude of shouting voices.

Grumgra stood hesitating; it was easy to see that public sentiment was
against him.

"What matter what we call him? Only let him take us across the river!"
cried Zunzun the Marvel-Worker. "The Eagle-Hearted let it be!"

"Take us across the river, and you shall be Ru the Eagle-Hearted!"
pronounced Grumgra, for once without his usual assurance.

And Ru, with an acquiescent smile, assured his people that they should
not have long to wait before crossing the waters.

Early the following morning, Ru was observed to go gliding away into
the woods. Toward noon he returned, but not directly from the woods;
once more he astonished his people by "walking on the waters." Borne on
a raft similar to that on which he had made his spectacular appearance
a few days before, he first drifted slowly down-stream, then vigorously
propelled himself landward; and, drawing his new creation to the bank
by the side of the original craft, he paid no heed to the murmurs and
exclamations of the watching throng, but burst at once into fervent
prayer.

"O river-god," he cried, "I thank you for making me your friend and
doing wonderful things for me. Take care of my people, as you have
taken care of me; let them cross your waters, as you have let me cross;
show them the way to the land of the noonday sun!"

Having uttered these words, Ru flung himself down on the ground, and
began to mutter incoherently. No one could make out what he said; but
the spectators gaped wide-eyed; and perplexity and fear were in their
looks.

Suddenly breaking short his unintelligible mumblings, Ru leaped to his
feet, and spoke in loud, clear tones: "My people, I have been talking
with the river-god. Do you wish to know what he has told me?"

A loud-voiced chorus signified that the people did wish to know.

"He says that you may all cross the waters if you will let me show you
how," Ru assured them. "But if you do not do as I tell you, the god
will put an evil spell upon you all!"

"We will do as you tell us! We will do as you tell us!" the people
avowed.

"First you must wear a charm," Ru continued--and in his gray eyes, as
he spoke, was a sly twinkle, which no one appeared to observe. "You
must each take a pebble from the river bank and tie it to you, so that
the god may know who you are and use his magic for you."

Very solemnly every man, woman, and child--from Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed
to Zunzun and the stern-browed Grumgra--reached down and selected a
pebble, which they slowly and clumsily attached to their garments by
means of strips of hide and the fibers of plants.

Following this ceremony, Ru again muttered a few meaningless phrases;
then, having done everything necessary to propitiate the god, he
declared: "Now I will show you how to cross the river. Who wants to be
the first to find out how?"

A frightened silence greeted these words.

"Kori the Running Deer, you go with the Sparrow-Hearted," designated
Grumgra.

"My name is the Eagle-Hearted!" corrected Ru, scowling a black scowl.

"The Eagle-Hearted," acknowledged Grumgra, also scowling.

Kori the Running Deer came slowly forward. He was an especially slender
and wiry-looking tribesman; his muscles were stout and powerful, yet he
had not the ox-like build of most of the Umbaddu.

He seemed to realize at once the uselessness of protest. "Tell me what
to do, Ru, and I will try to do it," he declared, as he stopped within
arm's length of the raft. And though his small black eyes showed more
than a trace of fear, his limbs did not waver and his voice did not
shake.

"Do as I do--and only that," directed Ru. And he climbed onto the
farther end of the raft, and motioned Kori to take his place at the
opposite extremity.

"Now push with your club," Ru ordered, after Kori had stationed himself
on the raft. "And move it the way I move mine."

Whereat he gave a powerful shove, and Kori followed with another shove
not less powerful. And the raft slipped away from the bank out into the
wilderness of the waters!

Once again the people murmured in admiration and surprise; once again
there were cries of wonder at the magic of Ru. And all eyes were
riveted upon that little craft which made its way slowly, slowly out
toward the center of the stream.

Loud was the splashing of the waters as Ru and Kori pushed and pushed
with their clubs; and still louder the excitement of the people as
the two tribesmen made their difficult headway. At times, to be sure,
they made no headway at all, but would paddle in opposing directions,
and the raft would merely swing round and round; at other times they
seemed to be drifting backward, and once Kori lost his balance and fell
into the river, but, with Ru's help, quickly recovered himself. Yet,
with all their awkwardness, they did make some progress; and, as they
advanced, their movements seemed to become slightly more efficient
and assured. At length they had reached the middle of the river, at
length had gone beyond the middle, and, dwindling each to a slender
black line, were approaching the opposite bank. Smaller and smaller
they grew, until they had disappeared entirely behind a projection of
land and not even a speck remained to mar the slow-moving, muddy brown
expanse of the waters.

Impatiently the people waited; the air rang with their disappointment
and forebodings. Could it be that their tribesmen had vanished not to
return? Could it be that the river-god had been angered after all,
and had devoured Kori and Ru even as he had devoured Kimo the Hairy
Mammoth? A period that seemed interminable went by; many a voice cried
out in apprehension, and many a prayer was murmured by frightened
lips. Then suddenly there came a shout of relief; then a great roar of
applause--the missing ones were returning!

But were they returning? Only one slender form was to be seen against
the vague vastness of the waters. Had Kori too gone the way of the
Hairy Mammoth? Horror and dismay glared from the eyes of the people as
they stood muttering and waiting, muttering and waiting, while that
single figure gradually drew toward them, until at last the tribesfolk
knew that it was Ru coming back.

"Where is Kori?" they cried, tumultuously. "Where is he? Where is he?
Where is the Running Deer?" And from one corner of the crowd there
sounded the sudden wailing of a woman.

Many minutes passed, and still their doubts remained. Not until Ru had
drawn his raft up to the bank and alighted did he attempt to answer the
stormy questions of the throng.

"Kori is waiting on the other side," he explained. "Who wants to go
next?"

No one appeared anxious for the privilege. "Targ the Thick Club, you go
now with Ru!" Grumgra had to command, before another candidate could be
found, and Ru undertook to ferry his second passenger across the river.



                              CHAPTER XVI

                            _The Conflict_


More than a week was consumed in the passage of the river. After the
first day, Ru abandoned his work as self-constituted ferryman, which
threatened to become endless; he found it simpler to train several of
his young tribesmen in the task of ferrying, and to devote himself
to the construction of new rafts. Even in this pursuit, he was not
now without assistants; indeed, he became something of an overseer or
director, while it was his fellows who did the actual work. With their
aid, he produced a fleet of ten rafts--several of which were superior
to the first two, since they were composed of as many as three or four
logs lashed tightly together. It was these larger craft that bore what
may be termed the "freight" of the tribe: the flint implements, and the
scanty remains of the provisions.

As for the people themselves, they were transported one by one, some of
the younger folk shouting with joy, some of the less reckless shivering
and frightened, a few of the children shrieking and crying, one or two
of the older women wringing their hands or beating their breasts at
the thought of crossing to a land from which they might never return.
Yet of actual casualties there were very few; now and then, indeed, a
passenger did fall into the river, but never with fatal results; now
and then someone was bruised or injured in the excitement of landing,
but always the wounds were trivial and soon forgotten. And, on the
whole, the people crossed confidently enough, for did not Ru say a
prayer to the river-god every time a new raft was launched? and did
they not know that his magic was powerful to protect them?

Yet, during the time of the passage, the fortunes of the tribe were
fast ebbing. There was now an encampment on each side of the river, and
on each side a daily hunt was held, although usually without result,
except when one of the hunters chanced to slay some small creature
with clubs, or with pebbles from his rabbit-skin pouch. And now the
tribe dined mostly upon roots, herbs, and berries, supplemented by a
sort of paste which the women made from the bark of a tree ground up
with beetles, grubs, and grasshoppers. But these were the rations of
famine--and as the days went by and no relief appeared in sight, the
complaints and wailings of the hungry throng grew more desperate and
louder.

Only in the words of Ru could they find any hope. "Do not be sad,
my people," he would say. "The river-god has told me that after we
have all crossed we shall go to a land of plenty." And his evident
cheerfulness served as a prop for the people's drooping spirits.

But Ru, more than any of the others, had reason to be cheerful. Was
not this his moment of triumph? Did not the people look at him with
wondering eyes, as they once had looked only at Grumgra and Zunzun?
Did they not call him the Eagle-Hearted? and did he not overhear them
murmuring that he was a magician, an enchanter more powerful than the
Marvel-Worker himself?

Even Yonyo, he was not sorry to learn, seemed to share in the general
awe at his deeds. Ever since that memorable day when he had threatened
her with his club, she had kept at a safe distance from him, and he
was still too angry with her to seek her as his deeper desires urged.
Yet at times, when suddenly he would look up from some absorbing task
and with quick gaze would isolate her from amid the throng, he would
catch in her eyes a light he had never seen there before--a light
almost fond, almost tender, yet tinged with just a little of distant
admiration. And seeing that which surprised and delighted him, Ru
pretended to have noticed nothing at all, but held himself more firmly
aloof from her than ever.

Indeed, he found himself indulging in wiles that matched her own!
When he beheld her strolling in his direction, he would turn aside
and pretend not to have seen; when she called to him, his ears would
be closed and he would not hear; when she stared in his direction, he
would merely stare back as though through a wall of stone.

Thus matters continued for many days--continued, indeed, until the
people had almost completed the passage of the river and only a score
remained on the northern bank. Among these, in addition to Ru, were
Grumgra and Zunzun; also Yonyo, who seemed determined to remain on the
same side of the river as Ru; also Kuff the Bear-Hunter and Woonoo
the Hot-Blooded, who had apparently made up their minds to stay where
Yonyo stayed. Evidently the withdrawal of a majority of the people had
meant a relaxing of restraints; for, before the last of the tribe had
attempted to cross, there occurred a little drama that added unexpected
variety and flavor to life.

Early one morning Ru was propelling himself down-stream on a small raft
he had constructed for his own exclusive use, when he was startled by
a series of shouts, groans and horrible oaths arising from a thicket
near the river bank. Alarmed, he ceased paddling and stood still to
watch. The shouts and oaths continued, in tones still more ferocious,
punctuated suddenly by the shrill cry of a woman--a cry he could not
fail to recognize!

Not a second did he waste. Leaving the raft to drift as it would, he
plunged into the water and hastily swam the few yards to land; then,
drawing himself up upon the rocky bank, he paused for an instant to
listen again.

The cries had died down to a confusion of mutterings and snarls, like
the grumblings of angered beasts; and through the intervening tangle of
foliage a sound as of heavy breathing came to his ears.

Picking his way warily through the thicket while the muttering and
snarling gave place to a savage howling, Ru found himself approaching a
little open space where great shadowy forms were to be seen in violent
motion. Cautious as a panther stalking its prey, careful not to rustle
a twig or a leaf, he crept forward inch by inch. His thin shoulders
were bent far down; his fingers at times touched the ground; his
watchful eyes glittered with uncanny alertness. Meanwhile the shouts
and screams grew louder and louder, each moment more frenzied and
terrible--and again there came the shrill call of a woman!

As that cry rang forth, Ru stole forward to a tiny break in the bushes.
Still unseen although able to see all, he peered out upon the grassy
floor of a small glade--and what he viewed held him as speechless as if
he had confronted a ghost.

Writhing and twisting furiously on the ground, two men were in deadly
conflict. Their deerskin mantles had been torn from them; their clubs
lay beside them on the grass; their huge hairy bodies were bent and
convulsed in desperate battle. Gripping one another with a python-like
hold, each seemed bent on tearing his adversary to bits; their long
arms clutched and pulled at resisting sinews, their great jaws snapped,
their stout legs frenziedly kicked and strained. Over and over they
rolled, first one on top and then the other, a contorted, swift-moving
mass of muscle and black hair; over and over, muttering and groaning,
their hands and faces streaked with red, the ground beneath them
dotted with red blurs; over and over, over and over, so fast the eye
could hardly follow their motions as crooked fingers tugged at bleeding
throats and chests, and wolfish crimson teeth cut and slashed.

It was long before Ru, staring out from his green hiding-place, had
recognized the combatants. But finally, when there came a lull, and
both contestants momentarily relaxed their efforts, he distinguished
the blood-smeared faces of two of his tribesmen: Woonoo the Hot-Blooded
and Kuff the Bear-Hunter! And seated at the opposite edge of the
thicket, watching the fight with calm detachment, he beheld another
whom he well knew--Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed!

Evidently she had not seen him, and he himself was so absorbed in
watching the struggle that he scarcely noticed her. Even as he espied
her, the fighters began to grapple with renewed energy, coming to a
clinch that threatened a swift, fatal ending. Now, as the two men
writhed on the ground, Kuff on top, Woonoo beneath, the long stout
fingers of the Bear-Hunter fumbled for the neck of his foe; now they
were closing over Woonoo's throat, closing and pressing down with
fiendish fierceness. The little eyes of Woonoo were bulging out of his
head, his tongue was lolling from his great, wide-open mouth, he sent
forth a series of gasps and half-stifled groans, and his arms and legs
twitched convulsively.

And, but for a timely interruption, the story of Woonoo would have been
over.

Just as the murderous fingers were tightening about the doomed man's
throat, Ru, forgetting himself, uttered a low excited cry.

Kuff, looking up in alarm, released his hands from the prostrate
Woonoo. But Ru had withdrawn instantly into the thicket; and many
seconds passed while Kuff stood staring at the shrubbery for sight of
the intruder. During the interval, Woonoo clutched at his throat, and
began slowly to recover; he groaned, stirred a little, and sucked in
the air in long-drawn agonized gulps; then, casting bloodshot eyes at
his adversary, he began to creep abjectly away, first crawling on hands
and knees like a prisoner escaping, then rising and tottering toward
the edge of the woods. But Kuff did not seem even to notice him; his
attention was still concentrated upon the unknown foe among the bushes.

Yonyo, meanwhile, had sat watching with an air of utter indifference;
neither when Woonoo was vanquished nor when he escaped did she show any
sign of emotion. But as the gory form of the defeated one went slumping
away into the bushes, she seemed suddenly to realize that she might be
something more than an observer.

Convinced at last that there was no enemy in hiding, Kuff had turned
to garner the fruits of victory; and with tiny eyes that twinkled
wickedly, he stood gaping toward Yonyo. Never too prepossessing, with
his huge squat figure and apish countenance, he was particularly
hideous now; on his shoulder was a great newly healed scar that added
to the natural ferocity of his aspect; on his face were long streaks
of blood, while his thick black hair was blood-matted, mud-caked and
disheveled, and little crimson patches stared from a hundred places on
his unclothed body.

But evidently he had already forgotten his wounds. His thick lips
expanded into an unpleasant grin; his eyes, staring from his head like
two inky little berries, were fastened upon Yonyo with evil relish.
Not a word did he speak, but slowly, as if under some irresistible
fascination, he started toward the watching woman.

And slowly, as if she too were under an irresistible fascination, she
began to back away. A little cry, half of repugnance, half of fear,
trembled from her lips--then, almost before she could turn to flee, the
great form of Kuff had come plunging toward her, and she was helpless
in his devouring arms.

She felt herself clutched to the hairy breast; she felt powerful
fingers tightening about her; to her nostrils came the acrid reek of
sweat, and all things grew dark before her eyes. She scarcely heard
the raucous breathing, scarcely felt the pain of the gripping hands,
the terrible pressure of the huge convulsive body. Blindly, with an
instinctive revulsion, she attempted to resist, but her efforts were
the flutterings of a thrush in the talons of a hawk.

Yet all this took place in a second, perhaps in the fraction of a
second--as suddenly as the great arms were thrust about her, so
suddenly were they released. Startled and bewildered, she went reeling
to the ground, while there came to her a glimpse of an immense squat
form whirling about, and she heard an infuriated snarl. Even as
she staggered and fell, she saw two new adversaries ranged face to
face--Kuff and Ru the Sparrow-Hearted!

For a moment the two men stood confronting one another like stags
ready for combat. Angry fires shot from their eyes; suppressed growls
issued from their curling lips. The heavy arms of Kuff were spread
apart as if to seize and crush his rival, and the fists were clenched
savagely; the left arm of Ru was at his side, but in his right there
hung threateningly--a club! And with a howl of rage Kuff recognized it
as his own club--his own, which Ru had snatched up from the grass!

Seconds passed.... The mutterings of the rivals rose in a challenging
crescendo. Then, with a stride, Ru crossed half-way over to his foe.
The club leaped to the level of his shoulders; a yell of fury came to
his lips; there rang out a still more ferocious answering yell. And, in
a blind frenzy, Ru started forward again, while the club was lifted yet
higher and swung.

To Yonyo, watching from where she sat huddled on the grass, it was not
apparent just what had happened. She saw the club descend; she heard
the scream of the smitten Kuff; she watched him lunge violently for the
weapon, and knew that his fingers closed over it; then there seemed to
be only two figures frantically writhing. Each, she could see, was
clinging to the club, each struggling to wrest it from the hands of his
adversary. But, disabled though the Bear-Hunter was, Ru was still no
match for him; he battled desperately, but in vain.... Slowly, slowly
Kuff was winning his second triumph. At last Ru lay on the ground,
convulsed and panting; at last he seemed to be crushed by the great
bulk of his rival, and his fingers were releasing their feeble hold on
the club--while into the beady eyes of Kuff there came a bestial light
as one hand reached for the throat of the Sparrow-Hearted.

Why it was, Yonyo did not know, but at this crisis she screamed. Her
cry was long-drawn and shrill as if she herself were in peril; the very
forest seemed to stand affrighted, and the red dripping hands of Kuff
were momentarily halted in their gruesome work.

As if in answer to her scream, there came an angry bellow from the
woods. And before either she or the fighters could do more than gasp
and stare, they heard a crashing in the brush, and saw a tall familiar
figure glowering before them.

"Grumgra!" murmured Yonyo, in amazement.

For a moment the chieftain uttered not a word. He merely stood
gazing with a half-scornful grin at Yonyo, at the two blood-smeared
combatants, and at the disordered glade with the red-streaked grass
torn up and crushed. But Kuff, like a small boy detected in a prank,
released his grip on Ru, and, rubbing his bruised shoulder, arose to
his feet with a sheepish grimace. Immediately afterwards, Ru also
arose, while glaring at Kuff with eyes that were like a snarl.

Now there was heard another rustling from the shrubbery, and the
stooping form of Zunzun the Marvel-Worker emerged. Disregarding the
others, Grumgra turned to him, and, in a growling voice, declared: "It
is as I said, Zunzun, when I heard the noise. They have been fighting.
They have been trying to kill each other. It is all about a woman!"

A malicious light came into Zunzun's shrewd little eyes. "Fighting
about a woman!" he muttered. "That is against your orders, O Grumgra!"

"It is against my orders!" echoed Grumgra, turning threateningly upon
Kuff and Ru. "Who is it that started to fight against my orders?"

An awed silence greeted his words. "You, Ru," he thundered, after a
moment, "why did you start to fight with Kuff?"

"It was not I that started it," pleaded Ru. "First there was Woonoo the
Hot-Blooded--"

The very mention of this hated name brought fury to the heart of Kuff.
"It is so! It is so!" he broke in, excitedly. "Woonoo the Hot-Blooded
tried to take my woman! She would have been mine, but he wanted to take
her! So we fought, and I tried to kill him! I won her from him! Now she
is mine!"

"I am not yours!" flung back Yonyo, defiantly.

"Quiet!" howled Grumgra, turning hotly upon the Smiling-Eyed. "Can any
woman say which man she belongs to? Is that not for me to say--me,
Grumgra, the father of the tribe? Can I not give any woman to any man I
want?"

Utterly subdued, Yonyo went creeping away toward the shadow of the
thicket.

"But she is mine! I won her! I won her!" insisted Kuff, glaring
malevolently at the chieftain, while the hair upon his back bristled.

"I have said there shall be no more fights about women!" bawled
Grumgra. "And you know how I shall punish you!"

There came a murmur of dismay from Kuff and Ru, and a low cry of fear
from Yonyo.

"O chief, it is a wise rule you have made," said Zunzun, addressing
the Growling Wolf in a mincing voice. "In the days when your father
Rung the Roaring Cataract was our leader, there were many fights about
women, and many of our men lost their lives. But ever since the day
when your club slew Rung, you have had a better way. Not many of our
men have fought about women since then. For it does them no good."

"It does them no good!" reiterated Grumgra. And for an instant he
paused and leered hungrily at Yonyo, who shrank from his gaze as from a
blow. "When two men find a woman worth fighting about, it is well that
the woman should belong to me! Is it not so, Zunzun?"

"It is so," acknowledged the Marvel-Worker, nodding sagely. "Such, O
chief, is the wise rule you have made!"

"Not too many women have come to me in this way," recounted Grumgra,
regretfully. "No more than there are fingers on one of my hands. But
now it is time to find another."

And with eyes wickedly shining, he started toward his intended victim.
"You are good to look upon, Yonyo," he muttered. "Good to look upon--"

Yonyo shuddered, and cried out again in fear. Like a cornered beast,
she pressed far back into the thicket.

But her shrinking seemed only to whet Grumgra's desire. "Come here,
O Smiling-Eyed! Come here!" he commanded, with a growl. "I will not
hurt you!" And he darted forward with great strides, his hairy arms
outspread to grasp his prey.

There could have been but one sequel, had it not been for Ru. "Stop,
Grumgra! Stop! Stop! Stop!" came an imperious cry.

The chieftain turned about with an oath. And Ru, raising his right hand
commandingly, solemnly declared: "The river-god will not let you touch
Yonyo! If you do, he will punish you!"

And while Grumgra stood glaring at him in bewilderment and rage,
Ru lifted both hands skyward and burst into fervent prayer: "O
river-god, punish Grumgra! Do not let him go near the Smiling-Eyed!
If he does, you must not let him cross over your waters! You must
sink him in the middle, down where the fishes fly about with their
sharp little teeth and it is dark and cold. And you must never let
him come up again--never, O river-god, unless he will not go near the
Smiling-Eyed."

On and on in this vein Ru rambled, waxing more heated in his pleas,
more furious in his demands for Grumgra's punishment. And Grumgra,
still watching in bewilderment, seemed uncertain what to do. At first
he growled and grumbled a bit, then fell into a staring silence; then,
while Ru still importuned the river-god, his great lower jaw sagged and
his mouth gaped wide; then by degrees an expression akin to anxiety
crossed his face; and from anxiety he passed to fear, and from fear, by
slow gradations, to actual terror, until at length his legs seemed to
be unsteady beneath him and his frightened little eyes half bulged out
of his head.

"I will do as you want!" burst forth Grumgra, as Ru reached an
emotional climax. "Only ask the river-god not to take me when I cross!"

Whereat he mumbled a little to himself; then, without so much as a
glance toward the cringing Yonyo, he reached for his club and went
stalking away into the shadows of the wood.



                             CHAPTER XVII

                        _When Wolf Meets Wolf_


When at last the river had been crossed, the tribe continued southward
for many days. Although there was no trace of a path and Mumlo the
Trail-Finder no longer knew the way, the people pressed on as best they
could along a route selected by Mumlo and Grumgra. In a disgruntled,
straggling group they pushed their way down the long corkscrew defiles
of the mountains, through the underbrush of unknown forests, around
the marshes of treeless valleys, and over boulder-strewn wildernesses
where serpents hissed and the lone wolf slunk. Many a tongue cried out
to complain that they did not know where they went; many a heart was
filled with terror at the tracks of huge beasts, or occasionally at
sight of some great horned form among the bushes. But, no matter how
they groaned and grumbled and lamented, the people no longer thought of
doing otherwise than to follow Grumgra as he led them on and on.

Of daily occurrence were the mutterings at the scarcity of food.
Roots, herbs, and berries were of course still to be had, and these
were supplemented by grasshoppers and grubs, and even at times by
ants and butterflies; but very little actual game was captured, and
day after day the people complained at their enforced vegetarian diet.
Once, indeed, they did all feast, when, led by Ru and his firebrands,
they drove the vultures and hyenas from the carcass of a newly dead
mammoth; occasionally they slew some small bird or beast with their
pebbles, or literally dug it out of its burrow; but such times were
rare, and to waylay the larger animals was beyond their power. There
were suggestions, to be sure, that they should pause for a day and hold
a hunt; but Grumgra vetoed this idea with a single gesture of his club,
and growled half under his breath that not even a day must be wasted.

And so, never actually starving and yet almost always hungry, the tribe
trudged along a weary course that seemed endless. Scarcely a night went
by but that the camp was disturbed by the wailings of some woman at the
death or threatened death of her babe; and there was hardly a day when
someone did not have a tale to tell of his close escape from the hoofs
of a rhinoceros or wild bull or from the trap of quicksand, precipice,
or lake. But where they were going, and to what end their sufferings
and dangers led, the people had only the vaguest idea.

Now, by a curious irony, all their grumblings began to concentrate
about a single object. If Ru and the river-god had not helped them
across the waters, then their troubles would all have ended; they
would have turned around and gone back to their abandoned cave--and
they would now have been living as happily as of old. The fault was
therefore Ru's for showing them how to cross the river. Thus, as the
gathering days brought fresh discontent, the people began to reason;
and now, when they muttered their complaints, the name of Ru was almost
invariably spoken--it was he who had brought them to suffer and pine so
far from home, he who had turned against them the spirits of the woods
and caves and streams and those more terrible spirits in the hearts of
the wild beasts!

And now Ru went about always with club in hand and with eyes alert.
Wherever he walked, he was greeted with hisses and snarls, or with
silent, unfriendly stares; sometimes, when he approached, his
tribespeople would withdraw into little groups, whispering among
themselves, with furtive glances in his direction; and the very
children--they who had once been his particular friends--would echo
the antagonism of their elders by shouting accusing names at him and
flinging stones.

Even his prestige--that prestige which he had enjoyed as an ally of
the river-spirit--was under partial eclipse. He was no longer Ru the
Eagle-Hearted, as in the days of the river-passage; the contemptuous
appellation "Sparrow-Hearted" had returned, despite Grumgra's promise
to the contrary; and always it was by this term that his tribesmen
addressed him.

It was Grumgra himself that had brought about the change. When the
tribe was halting for its first night's rest after crossing the river,
Ru had chanced upon Yonyo in a secluded corner of the encampment;
and, finding her face bright with smiles at his approach, he had
paused to speak with her. But scarcely had he uttered the first word
when a tall shadow intruded. With a low cry, Yonyo flitted away and
disappeared--and Ru found himself face to face with Grumgra.

"What is this? You dare to speak with my woman?" bellowed the
chieftain, in tones so loud as to attract many of his tribesmen to the
scene.

"She is not your woman!" denied Ru, with one eye watchfully upon
Grumgra's club.

"All women are my women!" growled Grumgra the Omnipotent. "She is not
yours--not yours, Ru the Sparrow-Hearted!"

By this time a dozen hairy forms had gathered near, and a dozen pairs
of eyes were regarding the contestants expectantly.

"I do not know Ru the Sparrow-Hearted!" came the angry reply. "I am Ru
the Eagle-Hearted!"

"No! Ru the Sparrow-Hearted!" Grumgra chuckled evilly, and his laughter
was echoed by the crowd. "Ru the Sparrow-Hearted! Or should it be the
Rabbit-Hearted?"

Again Grumgra chuckled derisively; and again his merriment found ready
response among the auditors.

"Do you forget your promise to me and the river-god?" demanded Ru; but
his words were drowned out by the roaring of the chieftain.

"We will see whether you are the Sparrow-Hearted!" the Growling Wolf
exclaimed. "We will see!" And his great club flashed high in air, and
he started toward Ru as if with murderous intent.

At that crisis Ru did precisely as he was expected to do. He did not
remain to meet the impact of the descending club; he sought the way of
safety and of flight. In an instant, his fleeing form had disappeared
behind a little rise in the land.

But after him rang the derisive howl of Grumgra: "See how the
Sparrow-Hearted runs!" And from a dozen mocking voices there came
gleeful screams and cries: "Sparrow-Hearted! Sparrow-Hearted!
Sparrow-Hearted!"

But though once again Ru had to face the hostility of his people and
of Grumgra, he found his hopes brightening in at least one respect.
Between him and Yonyo things were no longer as they had been. Ever
since that encounter in the woods, when he had fought for her and she
had screamed in terror at his peril, they had been drawn together as
never before. Forgotten now was Yonyo's treachery, her scornful ways,
her callousness; it was enough for Ru that she had given some sign of
a kindlier feeling. All the mysterious attraction she had exerted came
flashing back upon him, so that he felt himself again at the beck of
her sparkling glance, her self-willed nods and gestures, and roguish
smile.

His enthralment was all the more complete since Yonyo seemed to be
separated from him by an impassable bar--Grumgra still cast covetous
eyes upon her, and she lived in terror of his approach. Hence all
their little meetings were brief and fear-troubled; they saw each
other at odd times and places and clandestinely as children dreading a
parent's arrival; they were in constant alarm lest Grumgra should find
them together, or lest some gossip-loving tribesman should bear him
news of their rendezvous.

Yet in those stolen moments Ru found a joy beyond anything he had known
before. Yonyo was gracious to him now as never in the past; she could
still smile her tantalizing smile, but she would not jeer and mock;
her face would at times assume a look that was almost gentle, and her
tongue would murmur softly; she would peer at him with eyes in which he
caught an admiration that had never been there before, and at the same
time there was just the trace of a shyness that puzzled and provoked
him. Again and again Ru felt the old unaccountable impulse to fold his
arms about her and draw her close; and more than once that impulse was
about to be gratified, when with a sly laugh she slipped away and led
him a merry, hopeless chase through the forest. But, on each occasion,
he seemed nearer to success; and no doubt the moment of victory would
not have been long delayed except for the perpetual shadow of Grumgra.

Grumgra's attitude was still something of a mystery to Ru and Yonyo.
Now that the chieftain had safely crossed the river and had no further
dread of the river-god, he did not hesitate to taunt and ridicule Ru,
and even to assail him with his club. But, at the same time, a little
of the awe Ru had inspired seemed to remain--and it was no doubt this
that restrained him from pursuing Ru relentlessly and from hunting down
Yonyo as he would have hunted down any other woman whom he desired.

Prayers to the gods of the waters and of the winds were still
frequently on Ru's lips, and on sundry occasions were uttered within
the hearing of Grumgra; and while the chieftain perhaps doubted, still
he had more than once been heard to mutter uncertainly to himself while
listening to the Sparrow-Hearted's supplications; and in his tiny black
eyes Ru had beheld a glint of wonder which verged upon fear.

Yet, at one of the tribal meetings, he had let it be known that Yonyo
was his woman, and that none but him must lay hands upon her. And thus
by a word he had ended the courtship of Kuff the Bear-Hunter and the
possible courtship of all the other tribesmen--with the sole exception
of Ru.

But the days went by, and little happened. Sometimes Grumgra, casting
greedy eyes upon Yonyo, would start toward her with a growl that was
perhaps meant for tenderness. But she would dash away, screaming with
fear, and he would turn aside indifferently, as though she were not
worth the trouble of a pursuit. This was not like Grumgra, and the
people wondered; and still more they wondered when Woonoo and Kuff
brought tales that Ru had been seen with Yonyo, and the chieftain
rewarded the informers with a snarl and a blow from his club.

Each day excited rumors circulated that Grumgra was about to take
vengeance upon Ru. Yet the expected outburst was long delayed--was
delayed, in fact, until the people had lost patience and almost ceased
to anticipate it--and when it did occur, the results were totally
unexpected. And the reason was that, in the interval, Ru had gained an
ally of a type unique in the history of the Umbaddu.

It chanced one day that half a dozen men of the tribe--Ru among
them--came across some new-made wolf tracks. "There may be some little
wolves in a cave," suggested one. "And little wolves are good to eat.
Let us find out." So curiosity and hunger prompted the men to follow
the trail through the wilderness.

As they slowly advanced, the clubs of all were poised alertly; the eyes
of all gleamed warily; not a murmur gave token of their excitement.
At length, to their delight, they came upon that which they had hoped
for--among a cluster of rocks there was a little hollow, and it was
from this retreat that the wolf had evidently emerged.

Very cautiously, creeping on hands and knees, they approached. The
stench of carrion came to their nostrils; confused low growls were
borne to their ears. For an instant they paused, then crawled on again;
actual pleasure was expressed in each wily eye; the clubs were lifted a
little more cautiously than before, but slowly and steadily they still
pressed forward.

At last the foremost of the party halted--not more than a yard from the
cave entrance. Then, while the others gripped their clubs more firmly
and a petrified silence held them all, the leader stole forward another
pace, and peered anxiously into the hollow.

Straightway a whoop of triumph split the air, and the huntsman waved
his arms exultantly. His comrades, crowding up to see, observed that
the cavern was empty--except for six furry little forms huddled
together against the farthest corner of the rocky wall.

Swinging his club with savage relish, one of the men crept in through
the entrance. The wolf cubs snarled, and their feeble jaws snapped;
then madly they scattered in all directions. But the club swung, and
then swung again, and then swung once more; and the air was filled with
the squeals and yelps and baby wailings of the slaughtered.

Yet there was one among the six that long eluded his persecutor. After
the last of his brothers and sisters lay blood-smeared and motionless
on the cave floor, he still darted about as distractedly as a rat in a
trap. Several times, when the smashing club descended, he escaped by
the bare fraction of an inch.

Shouting with glee, the men pressed close to watch. But the sequel was
not as they had expected. Just when the cub seemed to be cornered;
just when the club was coming down to do final execution, the intended
victim did a surprising thing. In a frenzy of terror, he gave a swift
furious leap, as though to plunge straight through the waiting line of
men. But his infant limbs were too feeble; he fell short of the mark,
and came down in--the arms of Ru!

Ru never knew just why it was that his hands reached out and seized
that desperate little living mite. But he did know that, once he had
grasped the cub, he was thankful for his action. He could feel the tiny
heart thumping fiercely upon his breast; he could feel the hot moist
breath coming fast against his palm; he could feel the furry little
form huddling close for safety--and a strange protective instinct came
over him, the swift stirrings of an emotion that was all gentleness and
pity.

Loud laughter convulsed Ru's companions as he caught the harassed
cub; but in the heart of Ru there was no laughter. And his arms, once
pressed about the little creature, were folded there as if not to be
released.

"Come, Ru, give us the beast," directed one of his tribesmen, when at
length their merriment was over. "We must make an end of it before the
she-wolf comes back."

"I will not give it to you," refused the Sparrow-Hearted. "You shall
not make an end of it."

New laughter racked the frames of the spectators. "What! Not give it to
us?" they roared. "Do you want to eat it alive?"

"I do not want to eat it at all!" cried Ru, with a trace of anger. "I
am going to keep it!"

"Keep it?" they all echoed, in unfeigned amazement. "Keep a wolf? But
it will devour you!"

"It will not devour me!" came Ru's vehement denial. And after a
second, while his fellows stood regarding him as though certain that
his wits had fled, he added that he would work a charm over the
creature to prevent it from harming him.

"It is not easy to work a charm over a wolf," commented one of the men,
shrugging his shoulders, as he went to gather the carcasses of the
slain whelps from the cavern floor. "You will want to kill it after it
bites you!"

But the others, after enjoying some further laughter at Ru's expense,
were tempted to try more forceful tactics--and were confronted by an
irate Ru, who swore that if they so much as touched the cub he would
bring down against them all the evil spirits of the woods and caves.

Hesitatingly and somewhat doubtfully, they decided to leave Ru to
himself. "Only the Sparrow-Hearted would fight about such a little
animal," they concluded. And so it happened that, when Ru rejoined the
tribe, the young wolf still nestled safely in his arms.

Yet, having rescued the animal, Ru had no idea what to do with him.
At first he had perhaps some vague notion of releasing him to find
his way back to his kindred; but from the cub's quivering, frightened
manner of huddling against him, he knew the creature was helpless--and,
though he could not have said why, he had no desire to abandon him to
the talons of some roving eagle or hawk. There was something in those
timid, bright little eyes that awakened his sympathy, something that
made him feel almost a sense of fellowship. And gradually--since
there seemed to be no other way--the thought came to him that he might
himself feed and care for the cub.

And thus began the memorable partnership between Ru and Wuff the Little
Wolf. The people stared in amazement to see Ru sheltering a wolf cub.
They laughed merrily as they told one another how the beast would
bite and tear Ru for his trouble. They crowded close to watch when Ru
fed him with bones and the skin and discarded remains of slaughtered
animals. They jeered and hooted as Ru indulged in all sorts of games
and queer antics with his new-found companion, leading him a merry race
through the woods while the cub pursued in puppylike glee, or wrestling
with him for a stick or bone, or merely holding him in his arms and
fondling him. Wherever Ru went, Wuff went with him; at night the wolf
huddled close at his side, and during the day trotted contentedly at
his heels. So, in less than a week, Wuff had apparently forgotten all
about his lost home, and he became as devoted to Ru as a dog to its
master.

[Illustration: _Ru plays with Wuff_]

Ru meanwhile found himself increasingly attached to Wuff. Several
times, with outbursts of ferocious anger, he saved his young charge
from assaults by his tribespeople; and he threatened such horrible
vengeance upon anyone who harmed Wuff that in the end the people were
careful not to come within touching distance of the beast.

Curiously enough, the cub throve under Ru's treatment. He grew at a
prodigious rate; and, as the days and weeks went by, his legs became
long and scrawny, his jaw lengthened and grew heavier, and his teeth
waxed dangerously sharp; while the shining little eyes gleamed ever
more alertly. "Ru's wolf will devour him yet," prophesied the people,
as they saw the cub daily assuming more of the characteristics of his
race. When he snapped his jaws and snarled in harmless play, they
foretold how he would soon snap and snarl in earnest--with Ru as the
victim; and when Wuff began to go dashing eagerly although unavailingly
after every stray rabbit, squirrel, and butterfly, they predicted that
not many months would pass before the wolf's assaults would be more
successful--and would be turned against his protector.

Yet with Ru, Wuff showed a gentleness that seemed to belie his savage
ancestry--and never once did Ru receive so much as a scratch from him
even in play. Toward most of the other tribesfolk, however, the cub
exhibited a growling hostility. Yonyo alone he would endure, for Ru
made him vaguely understand that she was to be tolerated; but upon
the approach of any of the other people he would show his teeth and
snarl. And--by some strange chance that delighted Ru--Wuff seemed to
take an especial dislike for one man in particular. Whenever the wolf's
nostrils would catch the scent of Grumgra, he would seem to go mad; his
jaws would snap, his eyes shine with a light that was truly wolfish,
his black hair would bristle, and low mutterings would issue from his
throat. And more than once, had not Ru interfered, Wuff might have
leaped to his death in the effort to set teeth in Grumgra's throat.

Grumgra, meanwhile, took little notice of the hatred of the beast. Once
or twice, in his contempt for the creature, he went so far as to kick
the cub with his enormous unshod foot--and, on each such occasion, it
was only Ru's prompt interference that saved Wuff from striking back
and ending with his skull crushed.

But thanks to Ru's watchfulness, Wuff survived the peril from the
archenemy. And before finally the animal showed how fierce was his
hatred of Grumgra, many a week had gone by and Wuff was no longer a
mere cub but had attained the imposing proportions of a half-grown wolf.

Then, with amazing suddenness, the suppressed fires burst forth. One
evening the tribe had paused to make its encampment in the glade of
a hillside forest, when Ru, strolling with Wuff near the verge of
the woods, was startled by a sharp cry from the thickets. Alarmed,
he paused to listen; the cry was repeated, a distressed feminine cry
that he recognized. Then there came a half-human grunt, followed by a
groan that he thought he also knew, and the noise of a scuffle in the
underbrush.

Meanwhile Wuff was sniffing significantly at a new-made trail. A low
growl issued from his throat; his eyes shone angrily, and the hair upon
his back began to bristle.

"Come!" commanded Ru. And, followed by the willing beast, he glided
into the woods.

Not many seconds later he paused--directly before him was that which he
had anticipated.

Clasped in two enormous brawny arms, with head bent back helplessly
and long hair streaming, a woman was feebly struggling; while Grumgra,
chuckling in evil glee, drew her to him tightly, then bent down and
pressed his thick ugly lips to her reluctant ones.

Not an instant did Ru waste. "Go!" he muttered to Wuff, and pointed an
angry hand at Grumgra.

Wuff, needing no second invitation, sprang with a snarl at the
chieftain and buried his teeth deep in the flesh of the sinewy neck.

Grumgra, taken by surprise, was for a moment defenseless. His club lay
on the ground, hopelessly out of reach; he could only release Yonyo
as suddenly as if she had been a hot coal, and, howling with pain and
rage, grapple instinctively for the throat of his aggressor. Meanwhile
the sharp teeth cut deeper and deeper; a warm stream began to trickle
down Grumgra's neck and chest; he could feel the fierceness of the
living fury that was rending away at his flesh.... A madness such as
even he had rarely known came over him as his hands closed about a
hairy throat; with desperate power he pressed, squeezed and pressed
with all the vehemence of hatred and the lust for life. And gradually
the tormenting fangs were withdrawn and the body of his foe crumpled up
in his grasp.

Then, while a murderous frenzy possessed him and he was about to break
the neck of his adversary, a club came down violently upon his arm.
Who it was that struck him he did not know--screaming with agony, he
unclenched his fingers. As he did so, someone behind him snatched
the furry form away, and his ears caught the patter of retreating
footsteps. Blinded as he was by frenzy and pain, he wheeled about a
fraction of a second too late; he saw no more than the foliage closing
above two dark, swift-moving figures.

That night, around the tribal camp-fire, Grumgra was unusually sullen
and morose. More than one erring tribesman felt the chastisement
of his club; and it was noted that several times he started with a
growl toward Ru, and that Ru, followed by his pet wolf, made haste to
disappear amid the shadows. It was also noted that Grumgra's throat
bore a great ragged new-made wound; and the rumor circulated that he
had received this injury while wrestling single-handed with a bear.



                             CHAPTER XVIII

                         _The Migration Ends_


On the following morning Ru overheard an interesting conversation.
Seated in the hollow of a great boulder, he caught the muttered words
of Grumgra and Zunzun as they conferred on the opposite side of the
rocks. And unhesitatingly he crouched down so as not to be seen and not
to miss a syllable.

"But why not kill him the easiest way?" Grumgra was saying. "One blow
of my club--"

"That would seem better," came the suave interruption of the
Marvel-Worker. "But would it be? I too want to be rid of him, for has
he not laughed at my wonders? and does he not try false wonders of
his own? But let us not be too much in haste. If you kill him now,
the people will not believe our story about the bear. They will guess
that you have been fighting with the Sparrow-Hearted, and will ask why
you did not kill him at once. And how they will laugh then! They will
whisper that the Sparrow-Hearted is stronger than you!"

"I will wring the Sparrow-Hearted's neck!" growled the chieftain, stung
by Zunzun's hateful suggestion.

"Not yet. Not yet," cautioned the Marvel-Worker. "We will wait, and
will think of some way. Maybe we can push him off the high rocks--or
else the god of the fire or the storm may help us. Let me use my
magic--it has broken the bones of bigger men than Ru."

"Go, use your magic!" muttered the leader, fiercely. "But use it soon!
No man can strike Grumgra and live! The air I breathe is not sweet
while Ru stays alive!"

"But do not forget," resumed Zunzun, in soft, persuasive tones, "the
Sparrow-Hearted has his wolf to fight for him. I do not know what bad
spell he has worked over it, but we cannot go near him while it lives.
Why did we not kill it long ago?"

"I will kill it now!" vowed Grumgra. "This very day it will taste my
club!" And his words were punctuated by low throaty mutterings and a
gnashing of teeth.

"Grumgra speaks great wisdom," the Marvel-Worker approved....

And that was all that Ru remained to hear. Fearful of detection, he
slipped slyly away, and disappeared without a sound into a dense
thicket.

All that day, while the tribe pursued its leisurely course through the
forest, Ru watched cautiously for sign of some trap or ambush. But,
somewhat to his surprise, he went his way unmolested. He did notice,
however, that Grumgra seemed bent on keeping his promise with regard
to Wuff; several times the chieftain approached the wolf with club
dangerously poised. On each occasion Wuff showed his teeth and growled,
yet seemed not unaware of his peril; he always managed to leap out of
range of the descending club--and all that Grumgra succeeded in doing
was to knock some holes in the earth, while Wuff, confronting him just
out of reach, would derisively snarl and snarl.

Thus frustrated, Grumgra glowered with increasing fierceness as the
hours went by; and the people, watching him at a distance, were
secretly mirthful at his futile efforts.

But, except for the baffling of Grumgra, nothing happened all that
day. It was not until late at night that the chieftain made his first
determined effort at vengeance.

Long after Ru had fallen asleep, he awoke with a start. The night
was clouded and starless; on both sides of him the camp-fires were
smoldering to a crimson glow, and he could only dimly distinguish the
huddled figures of the sleepers and hear their rhythmic breathing. All
was as it should be--there was no sound or shadow to give alarm. Yet,
for some reason, a shiver of fear shot through him. Without knowing
why, he shuddered; and, as he did so, there came a low growl to his
left--and he saw the two glowing eyes of Wuff. Vaguely he could make
out the form of the wolf standing beside him, and as if by instinct he
knew that the animal's hair was bristling.

At the same moment his eyes were startled by a sudden movement, and he
saw a huge shadowy shape creeping along the ground. But he had no time
to wonder what it was. Almost before he realized what was happening,
Wuff had vanished. Ru was aware of a slim form catapulting through the
air--then there came a howl that set the whole camp astir. And, with
furious suddenness, the huge creeping shape sprang up, and towered to
monstrous proportions. It lifted enormous arms, and swung a colossal
club--and a small four-legged form, leaping through the air, nipped the
giant on the elbows; then as suddenly withdrew; then once more darted
forward and nipped the giant on the shins; then with lightning rapidity
disappeared; then for a third time charged and slashed the calves of
the giant's legs. The club-wielding one, thus assaulted, shrieked
and bawled in leonine rage and thrashed madly at the air; but in the
darkness he was half-blinded, and the strokes of his club were wild and
uncontrolled; while his foe, gifted with better sight, continued to
lunge and cut and then to vanish, with movements so incredibly rapid as
constantly to elude the grasp of the huge clutching fingers.

In a minute, the struggle was over. The great figure disappeared at a
run, to be lost among the crowd of his awakened fellows; while Wuff,
slinking back to Ru's side, licked his chops contentedly and sank down
to resume his interrupted sleep.

When morning dawned, it was observed that the body of Grumgra was
reddened with half a dozen new-made slashes. But no one dared refer to
the wounds in Grumgra's hearing; and there was much whispered comment
that everyone knew better than to make public.

Meanwhile Ru noticed that the people kept at a greater distance from
Wuff than ever before. As for himself, he looked upon Wuff with a new
affection. Reaching down and stroking the wolf's fur, he murmured
gentle words into the creature's ear: "Good Wuff! Good Wuff! You have
saved my life! You would not let Grumgra come upon us in the night,
would you, little wolf? You would fight for me as no one else would!
You are the best friend I ever had!"

And Wuff, hearing these words, stood listening patiently and with eyes
that shone steadily and brightly; and Ru swore to himself that his
comrade understood.

From that time forth, Ru would never leave Wuff far from his sight; and
his vigilance, both for his own sake and for that of his four-footed
friend, was never for a moment relaxed.

But a day or two later there came a diversion of so exacting a nature
that it required the full attention of Grumgra and Zunzun as well as of
Ru himself, and left them little leisure for thoughts of vengeance.

By this time the tribe had been following the southern trail for
possibly four or five months. No record, of course, could be kept
of the days that passed, and it was impossible even to estimate the
distance traversed; but when the people had left their cave it had
been late spring, and now the leaves on the trees had commenced to
turn yellow and brown; and the days, intensely warm for a while, had
begun to be varied by a refreshing coolness at night and in the early
morning. No one could be sure as yet whether they had exchanged their
own land of bitter winter for a warmer region; but there were those who
whispered that it had been colder than this in their old cave at the
season of falling leaves; and even the confirmed grumblers admitted
that they had entered a fairer country than they had left. Not that
the scenery was as majestic, for there were not the same white-banded
glaciers and overshadowing mountains--but the world about them seemed
less harsh and unfriendly. The storms that came trumpeting out of the
thunder-laden skies did not seem as severe as those they had known of
old; the woods, flowering with vines and bushes unknown before, offered
abundant nuts and succulent fruits they now tasted for the first time;
while here and there were wide grassy meadows through which they could
travel more easily and with greater safety than through the forest.

Best of all, to their minds, was the fact that now, for the first time
since leaving the cave, they had an abundance of animal food. Deer of
a hundred species browsed among the woods; bison and wild boars and
cattle were becoming plentiful; occasionally they would catch sight of
a galloping herd of horses, and the mammoth and the rhinoceros offered
tempting if inaccessible prey. There was the corresponding drawback,
of course, that dangerous carnivores were becoming numerous; not
infrequently they crossed the tracks of bears, hyenas, and wolves, and
once or twice they caught glimpses of the rare but dreaded sabertooth.
Yet, perhaps because easier prey was to be found, the tribe was not
much molested; it lost only two children and one old man to the wild
beasts in the course of several months. And after they had held one
or two successful hunts, and every member of the tribe had feasted
and gorged to capacity, they were all in a more cheerful mood. They
murmured that they had reached a land where they might halt and make
their home.

[Illustration: _The Umbaddu hunters were successful_]

Whether or not they remained permanently, it was necessary to find some
resting-place before long. They could not wait until the last leaves
had dropped from the trees, until the cold winds and the snow should
overtake them; no man could say how severe the winter here would be.
To delay too long might be to perish. So Grumgra had given orders that
if anyone discovered a promising-looking hollow or cave entrance, they
should all pause and examine it.

At first there was no sign of the hoped-for cavern. No retreat large
enough to shelter even a bear could be discovered among the rocks; in
vain the people searched the hillsides and the cliffs; in vain they
hunted along the banks of rivers and in the heart of the woods. Dark
prophecies could be heard from the mouths of the disgruntled, as the
days went by and the tribe was still forced to wander; and even the
more cheerful grew silent again, and a somber expression would come
into their eyes when they heard mention of the elusive cave. Slowly
and relentlessly the autumn was advancing: brilliant red and yellow
patches were springing up like gaudy reminders in the woods; the
underbrush seemed all aflame; and from time to time there sounded the
querulous calls of the southward-winging wild geese. Now the people
were increasingly aware that winter could not be far behind. As if to
lend fuel to their misgivings, Grumgra and Zunzun would hold whispered
conferences every evening; and every evening, before the camp-fire, the
Marvel-Worker would go through a series of furious incantations, and
from his lips would come frenzied prayers to the gods of the flames,
the woods, and the caves.

It was when the gold and scarlet of autumn were burning their fiercest
that Wuff had his two encounters with Grumgra; and it was at about the
same time, likewise, that the long migration of the Umbaddu came to an
end.

A day or two after Grumgra's unsuccessful midnight attack, the people
found themselves following the loops and meanderings of a narrow river
that reminded them of the Harr-Sizz. Through deep wooded gorges, under
beetling rocky cliffs and around the base of forlorn hills they kept
close to the stream for many miles, until at length they went trailing
into a ravine similar to that which they had left months before. On
both sides of the stream, the craggy cañon walls shot precipitously to
a height of hundreds of feet; here and there a scraggly bush or tree
clung precariously to a limestone ledge, but for the most part there
was no vegetation; and the innumerable successive strata, twisted and
bared as before some gigantic dissecting knife, had a ruggedness that
brought thoughts of home to the hearts of the people.

But what they particularly noted was a small ragged patch about a third
of the way up the cliff. In excited little groups they gathered, all
pointing up to it at once, and all exclaiming, "A cave! A cave! See! A
cave!"

What cries of relief and gladness now poured from their lips! Some
jubilantly yelled and shouted; some sank down upon the ground, and
uttered fervent prayers; some flung their arms about the shoulders
of their neighbors and thankfully embraced them; some merrily leaped
up and down, executing fantastic dances of their own invention; some
merely turned to their kinsmen, and eagerly chattered and chattered.

But, as of one accord, they all halted beneath the cave entrance and
waited for Grumgra to give that all-important command which they knew
he must give.

No sooner was all the tribe assembled than the chieftain, all the more
impressive and hideous because of his crimson new-made cuts and gashes,
shouldered his way sullenly to the center of the crowd. The people made
haste to open a path before him; and an expectant silence overcame
them all when, lifting his club regally, he signified that he was about
to speak.

"We think we have found a cave, but we do not know," he began, in his
characteristic bellow. "Maybe there is no cave at all. Or maybe it is
not big enough for us to live in. Or maybe there are great rocks that
will fall and kill us; or else the roof may be too low. Or wild beasts
or wild men may be there already. And so we will have to send someone
to find out. He who goes in may never come out again--but someone will
have to go. Who will be the one?"

There was a moment's silence; each man peered furtively at his
neighbors, and several deliberately squeezed out of sight amid the
throng.

"Then I must make someone go!" decided Grumgra. And his eyes, scanning
the crowd, chanced to fall upon a slim hated form.

A look of malevolent relish lighted his apelike face. He had the
expression of one who had just hit upon some brilliant, sinister
scheme. "Ru the Sparrow-Hearted," he bawled, "you be the one to go into
the cave!"

Sighs of relief and titters of amusement issued from the throats of a
hundred auditors. And Ru, coming forward with features compressed to a
stoic rigidity, quietly declared: "I am glad, O chief, that you think
me brave enough to go. It shows that you would do great honor to me."

Grumgra growled, and the club swung menacingly above his shoulders. "I
do not honor the Sparrow-Hearted!" he snarled; then stopped short in
confusion, for Ru, with a scornful laugh, had already slipped out of
sight among the multitude.



                              CHAPTER XIX

                        _Among the Labyrinths_


Half an hour later, Ru had commenced the ascent toward the supposed
cave entrance. His only companion was Wuff, who scrambled willingly
after him along the perilous ledges; his only equipment, in addition
to the pouch of pebbles and the club that were slung at his side,
consisted of a flaming torch liberally greased. From below, his
tribesmen stared at him in a great crowd, shouting directions and by
turns encouraging him and jeering; but he paid little heed to them,
and picked his way as rapidly as he could among the crags and boulders
toward the little black spot in the cliff wall.

As he approached, that spot widened promisingly; and when from time to
time he caught glimpses of it through fissures in the rock, he became
increasingly certain that it was indeed the doorway to a cavern. But
what a cavern it must be! The opening was perhaps wide enough to admit
half a dozen men walking side by side, and its coaly opaqueness brought
visions of interminable depths. His imagination was not fully awakened,
however, until he stood on a sort of rocky terrace or balcony directly
facing the gaping hole. Then, when he saw the jagged aperture giving
upon the tunnel-like recess, with the low roof that would barely admit
his unstooping form, and the interior unillumined and blank as if here
were the end of all things, a tremor of fear shot through him, and his
horror-stricken mind conjured up all manner of fantastic terrors.

As if to lend some color of reason to his alarm, Wuff crouched down
before him with bristling hair and eyes angrily shining; and from his
throat there issued low growls and grumblings.

But Ru had no time for hesitation. His torch was already half burned
away, and the cave must be explored while the flame lasted--and so,
trying to forget his unreasoning dread, Ru forced his way into the
blackness.

Reluctantly Wuff followed at his heels; but each second his growls grew
louder.

Yet at first Ru was aware of nothing disturbing. There was only the
bare floor and the shadowy walls dimly lit by the torch; and a new
assurance came to him as he pressed farther into the gloom.

Then--not half a dozen seconds could have elapsed--he became conscious
of a light that was not of his torch. From the darkness beyond, two
phosphorescent eyes were staring out at him!

While he shuddered and thought of flight, and the mutterings of Wuff
rose in a savage crescendo, the phosphorescent eyes lunged toward him,
a sudden wind blew past, and a great body went bounding by. Ru screamed
and waved his torch, and thereupon two more phosphorescent eyes emerged
from the darkness; there came another puff of wind, and a second huge
form went hurtling past. As it plunged into the rim of daylight and
disappeared, Ru recognized the hideous spotted shape of a hyena.

For a moment he stood motionless, to make sure that no other beasts
lurked in the shadows. Then, convinced that the routed pair had been
the cave's sole tenants, he started slowly forward again; while
Wuff, keeping close at his side, still growled a little and sniffed
suspiciously at the cavern floor.

As he advanced, breathing the dank air that reeked with odors of
dampness and decay, Ru observed that this cave was uncannily different
from that which he had known. It twisted and turned confusingly;
not for many yards anywhere did it keep a straight course; its roof
was high in places, and in places so low that he could barely creep
beneath; here and there huge stalactites, like gigantic tapering
clubs, hung from the ceiling; and on the floor the pointed stalagmites
bristled. And now and again he could hear the murmuring of invisible
water--an eery murmuring, which sent queer little shudders down his
spine and made him recall all the tales his people had ever told of
evil spirits that dwelt in recesses of the mountains.

Yet, although he had a curious sense of things unearthly, Ru was
fascinated. There was something enchanted about those great deserted
shadowy vaults and galleries, illuminated only by the flickering of his
torch; the silence, unbroken except by the sound of the unseen waters,
acted upon him like a charm; and, as one in a magic spell, he wandered
on and on, forgetful for the moment of the peril into which he was
thrusting himself.

It was the discovery that his torch was nearly burned out that brought
Ru back to reality. Without light in these dayless corridors, he would
be helpless!--he would be worse than helpless, he would be lost beyond
rescue! Like a dreamer suddenly aroused, he wheeled about, then turned
back at a sprint, following the devious windings at reckless speed.
The torch, fanned by the swiftness of his flight, burned threateningly
low; the molten fat rolled down over his fingers, and he felt the
searing heat of the flames. But with the grip of madness he clutched
that life-bearing brand; and with the fury of madness he raced through
those shadowy labyrinths. He could not be far from the entrance, he
thought--another moment, and he should see the welcome light of day.

But the moment passed, and he did not see the light of day. Instead,
he paused at last in utter bewilderment. Unexpectedly, the gallery
branched in several directions--and he could not remember coming this
way before! Was he lost? he asked himself in terror. Which way should
he go? But there was no time for debating--choosing at random, he shot
off down one of the corridors.

Another minute, two minutes passed--still no sign of the daylight. His
alarm rose to an over-mastering horror; his torch sank to a little
sputtering point that his scorched hands could scarcely hold. Reason
had left him utterly; his mind was a blur of blind passions, passion
to escape, at any price to escape; his breath came by furious gasps;
his legs sagged beneath him; but still he stumbled on and on, like a
harried beast close pressed by the huntsmen.

Then suddenly, from somewhere ahead of him, there came a strange
whirring, a murmur as of many wings. Abruptly he stopped; his heart
gave a great leap--and just at that instant the torch went out.

As a blackness deeper than the blackness of midnight closed about him,
there came a low whine from just beside him. Sinking down to the rocky
floor, he pressed as if for protection against the huddled form of
Wuff--his sole companion amid that appalling emptiness.

Only in the remotest recesses of his old cave had Ru known a darkness
such as this. The gloom was absolute; a blind man could have seen as
well as he. Yet never before had he felt so intensely the need of eyes.
Out of the depths of the cavern that strange whirring still proceeded,
a flapping as of great wings, as of gigantic birds. Louder and louder
it grew, louder and louder although never less eery, until Ru could
have sworn that the air was filled with enormous evil shapes, gliding
back and forth in wide loops and circles through the thick cavern air.

For many minutes he sat hunched on the floor, his hands pressed into
the thick fur of Wuff. He did not dare to move; he was afraid that
his very breathing would betray him; intermittently the whirring
continued, sometimes nearer, sometimes more remote, then gradually
dying down altogether, until the silence seemed more terrible than
sound, and he had visions of stealthy marauders creeping up on him
in the dark. And still a mad eagerness to escape possessed him.
Panic-stricken and yet helpless, he suffered all the torments of
hopeless captivity--his whole being was aflame with desire for the free
air, the open fields, the light of the sun.

At length the darkness and the silence became too oppressive to endure.
With no plan in mind, with a brain too overheated to conceive a plan,
he began to walk slowly away. Fumbling for his course like a sightless
old man, he groped along the wall, sometimes cutting his hands on sharp
projections of the rock, sometimes bruising his bare feet on unseen
stalagmites. At his side Wuff trotted, as bewildered as himself--at
times Ru could hear the heavy breathing or feel the bushy form brushing
against his legs. Where he was going he had no idea; he only knew
that he was curving in and about, bending and twisting and winding
in a series of loops that merely added to the confusion in his mind.
Perhaps he had a vague notion that, at some sudden turn, the longed-for
daylight would greet him--but, if so, the hope died slowly in his
heart. The blackness was everywhere unbroken, everywhere opaque and
impenetrable, as if no sun or star had ever shone--and the farther he
advanced, the more unlikely did it seem that he would ever regain the
open.

Now, as he forced his way haltingly through the invisible, his first
frenzied desire to escape had given place to a steadier but scarcely
less horrifying emotion--a preying dread that would not leave him,
but that persisted and grew while he felt for his path along dark
passageway after dark passageway. What unspeakable monsters prowled in
these labyrinthine recesses? To his impressionable mind, accustomed
from infancy to thinking of all places as populated with evil beasts
and still more evil spirits, there could be no doubt that unseen
eyes were spying upon him, unseen claws clutching and preparing to
strike--and he expected each instant to feel the stroke of rending
talons or fangs, or to go writhing on the floor in deadly conflict with
some unknown adversary.

Blindfolded though he was, he was not long in realizing that he was
wandering through sections of the cave that were new to him. Time after
time the galleries divided into two or even three passages, and he had
necessarily to select at random. That he had chosen wrongly became more
and more apparent as he advanced and found himself even more hopelessly
entangled. The corridors had ceased to run upon the level; now and then
he was faced with a sharp descent, and he would turn back sooner than
take the risk of falling; again, he was confronted with a steep rise,
which likewise he would seek to avoid; and once or twice he entered
what was apparently a blind alley, and paused in bewilderment before
a wall through which he could find no exit. He was impeded, also, by
having occasionally to creep on hands and knees beneath a drooping
ceiling, and several times he crawled through a slit in the wall so
narrow as to admit him only with much crowding; while, by way of
contrast, he had sometimes a sense of ample spaces and wide distances,
as though the vaulted roof were high above and the walls far apart.

As the ascents and descents became more frequent, a new terror began
to take possession of him--what if there were a hole in the floor, and
he should go slipping down into bottomless vacancy? Once, with this
fear foremost in his mind, he actually did slip, and, with a horrified
scream, found himself falling into space! But he did not have far to
go--there was a splash, and unseen waters closed over him. For an
instant he floundered wildly in the cold depths, drinking in huge gulps
while his bewildered mind vaguely apprehended that the end had come;
then, groping by instinct, he found his way shoreward, grasped at an
overhanging rock and pulled himself to comparative safety, while all
about him the echoes of his sputtering and splashing sounded like the
mutterings of evil spirits.

After this ordeal, Ru moved even more cautiously than before. To his
mind it was not credible that he had slipped by natural means--the
simple explanation was that some invisible watcher had shoved him
into the waters. New panic seized him as he wondered how to elude the
attacks of his silent persecutor; and it was long before he could
summon forth the courage to venture on into the unknown.

Yet he had no choice; and for a time that seemed never-ending and a
distance that seemed interminable, he groped through the blackness
of the winding mazes. The only sound was the occasional murmuring of
invisible waters, varied by the unearthly echoes of his soft footsteps
or of his voice when he called to Wuff. For all he could tell, he might
not have moved an inch since entering the cavern--in this lightless
world, space seemed to have been blotted out.

At last, in utter despair that matched his utter exhaustion, Ru flung
himself down upon the cave floor for a few hours' rest. It may be that
in that hazy interval he found needed repose--certainly, he was long in
a state of half-consciousness, in which confused visions trailed across
his mind. First he would see an avenging demon with eyes like fire and
a club as big as a mountain and an evil, sneering face like Grumgra's;
then he would view a dark gallery from which a wolf the size of a bison
would emerge, with long sharp teeth and blood-dripping tongue; then the
scene would change and there would be a murmuring of soft voices, and
he would feel the hands of Yonyo and peer into her sparkling eyes, and
all things would grow comforting and kindly; then once more he would be
alone in the darkness, and all about him would brood slinking demons
with snaky arms, and vulturelike birds with wings wide as a spreading
tree, and enormous bears into whose cavernous jaws he was forced to
walk....

From one such nightmare he was aroused with the consciousness that
many hours had passed. Perhaps in the world above ground another day
had broken--but here all was unchanged. At his side he could hear the
rhythmic breathing of the invisible Wuff; but, except for that faint
murmuring, the silence was undisturbed; and through the pitchy darkness
there was still not a spark to be seen.

But now Ru was aware of a new and most unwelcome sensation, an
emptiness within him that brought dreadful premonitions--the gnawings
of incipient hunger. In a flash of terrible insight, he perceived that
here was a foe more destructive even than the unknown horrors of the
dark. What if he should be a captive for days within the cave, captive
not only without food but without the means of finding food? In old
times of famine he had known starvation and learned what a savage thing
it may be; but never had he imagined so dire a fate as to starve in the
darkness, with only a wolf for companion!

And as Ru recalled that his companion was a wolf, curious and horrible
fancies flitted through his mind. What if, goaded to madness by the
hunger pain, he should be plunged into a life-or-death struggle with
Wuff--yes, even with Wuff, his protector and his friend? What if, in
a fury of self-preservation, he should be tempted to slay Wuff for
food?--or if Wuff, reduced to the ferocity of his kind, should pounce
upon his master with murderous, slashing fangs?

So appalling did these possibilities seem, and so far from remote,
that Ru could retain his sanity only by thrusting them resolutely from
his mind. Springing suddenly to his feet, he called to Wuff, then set
off once more down the lonely galleries at as determined a pace as the
darkness would permit.

The hours went by, and still he wound around interminable curves--and
still there was no relief in sight. His hunger had risen to the point
of torment, his fatigue to the point of anguish; but there was nothing
to do except to go on and on, on and on, lest the fate he dreaded
should overtake him. His anxiety was all the greater because of the
strange manner of Wuff; at times the beast panted heavily, at times
whined in low complaint, at times querulously grumbled and growled,
while once or twice--with a display of evil temper he had never shown
before--he snapped angrily at Ru's hand.

It was after Ru had renounced his last hope that he beheld the first
encouraging sign. Like one wearily trudging on the way to foreordained
doom, he was plodding mechanically along the labyrinths, in such
torment of mind and body that he had almost ceased to dream of
escape--when suddenly, rounding a sharp turn, he was confronted by that
which made him pause in mingled joy and alarm.

Not that he had actually come into the day! But his startled eyes at
least beheld the light! Far from a bright light, scarcely even a dim
crepuscular glow--yet a misty illumination, barely distinguishable from
darkness, did indeed show the high-arching cavern walls in shadowy
outline!

Instantly aroused to alertness, Ru advanced cautiously and with heart
wildly beating. Could the light be a deception, a promise that soon
must fade? Did it perhaps proceed from the goblin tenants of the cave?
Was it luring him to the lair of some fanged monster? Or did it come
from the camp-fire of some savage band of men? or of some festival of
cavern spirits? or of some dancing circle of fiends?

But, no, it could not be a camp-fire! It shone too steadily, and did
not flicker. After all, it must be the light of day!

Cheered by this reflection, Ru increased his pace. As he did so, he
became aware once more of a whirring of wings, a singular buzzing and
flapping as of great flying forms. Terror seized him again, and he
stopped short, and thought of retreat--but this time his doubt was
short-lived. Even as he paused and shuddered, the invisible became
visible--several black-winged creatures went circling and whirling
past, not like birds, for they had no feathers, but rather like flying
rats!

Startled and yet relieved, Ru stood regarding these curious apparitions
in uncertainty. They flitted about blindly as lost souls--veritably,
they seemed shapes of evil! But they had done him no harm, and seemed
to intend no harm--and, beside the mysterious horrors he had feared,
they were insignificant.

At length, grasping his club firmly, Ru started slowly forward again,
while Wuff, plunging about and growling with restored animation, made
many a vigorous but futile lunge at the flying creatures.

Ru's thoughts now returned to the unknown illumination. As he advanced,
the light became a trifle more distinct, although it did not increase
beyond the brightness of a vague twilight; then, when hopes of early
escape were burning warmly within him, he made a discovery which at
once answered his questions and plunged him back into despair.

The light was indeed that of the sun, but it entered from no accessible
source! High in the cavern roof, perhaps a hundred feet above, was
a hole like a skylight, and through this the sunlight tantalizingly
seeped!

But even while Ru stared up at that unattainable opening, the light
began gradually to dwindle. At first the change was barely perceptible;
then by degrees the aperture grew gray with the grayness of the
sunset-time. And, with a sense of renewed hopelessness, Ru realized
that this must be the twilight of the second day.

For many minutes he stood staring helplessly up at the diminishing
light. Then, before the inky blackness was upon him again, he turned to
more practical pursuits. First he followed Wuff's example by quenching
his thirst from a little stream trickling from the cavern wall; and
after that, being faint from his exertions and the lack of food, he
sank down once again upon the cave floor, hoping for nothing except for
sleep.

Before unconsciousness overtook him, he noticed vaguely that Wuff was
sniffing the air significantly. He was even aware that the wolf, guided
no doubt by his keen senses, went sneaking off into the darkness. But
Ru's own senses told him nothing, and he was too weary to attempt to
understand. And long before Wuff had returned, Ru was plunged into
delicious dreams of bison roasts and sizzling joints of venison.

By degrees those dreams lapsed into other and less pleasant visions:
it seemed to Ru that he was gnawing the bone of a bear, and that the
animal returned suddenly to life and seized him in gigantic claws and
slowly rent him apart. Now he could see his own flesh being torn and
slashed, could feel his own bones being cloven and gnawed, could hear a
crunching and grinding as his skull was crushed by teeth as long as his
fingers....

With a cry of horror, Ru awoke--awoke to consciousness that his dream
was gradually merging into reality. The crunching sound had not ceased;
through the intense blackness he heard it still, louder than before,
insistent, rhythmic, like a splitting of huge bones. Terror came
flooding back upon him, terror such as he had scarcely known even in
this cave of fear--some unknown beast lurked in the darkness, chewing
and tearing at bones! Scarcely daring to breathe, he lay as motionless
as though feigning death, while a cold sweat burst out at every pore,
and still from the invisible came that crunching, crackling noise.
At times he even thought he could hear the sound of some monster
breathing, and make out the gusty smacking of heavy lips!

In his over-mastering dread, he did not dare even to call out to Wuff,
lest he betray his presence and fall victim to the prowler. But as he
thought of Wuff, it occurred to him to wonder where his friend might
be. Instantly the explanation, terrible, all-sufficient, came flashing
over him. It was Wuff's bones that he heard being ground to bits! The
unknown beast was making a meal of Wuff!

At this thought he was ready to relinquish all hope. His turn would
come next; he himself would be spied out and smitten! Lightning-like
the slashing fangs would descend; the curving claws would rip his flesh
to ribbons; the giant sabertooth or bear would tear him limb from limb!

Yet he had no way to save himself. There was nothing to do but wait.
He could not attempt to creep away; the least noise would reveal his
presence. And even if he could escape, might he not stumble into the
lair of a second monster?

Still like an animal feigning death, he lay motionless on the cave
floor, listening and listening. For a long, long time, seemingly for
half the night, the crunching continued--then suddenly it ended.
Surprised, Ru listened more alertly than ever. Now, surely, the dreaded
moment had come! But the silence remained undisturbed, and the minutes
went by, and still went by--and nothing happened. And slowly the hope
grew within him that he was saved!

It was much later, certainly hours later, when he awakened from another
dream-troubled sleep to find a dim twilight shining through the rift in
the roof. The objects about him were once more vaguely visible, and to
his amazement and relief his eyes rested instantly on the curled-up,
slumbering form of Wuff!

Beside the sleeping wolf were a number of curious shapes, whose exact
nature Ru could not at first determine. But, upon creeping close to
examine, he discovered them to be the remains of bones--bones in every
stage of decomposition! Some had been shattered as if by sharp teeth;
some showed clearly the marks of gnawing; one or two had been chewed
literally to bits.

The mystery of the night was now plain. Wuff had been feasting on the
bones--and this it was that had caused Ru such unreasonable terror!

But one mystery only opened the door for another. Surely, none of the
bones were those of animals recently slain. Whence, then, had they
come? And how had Wuff discovered them?

Emboldened by the gathering light, Ru arose and started out to inspect.
To his surprise, he did not have far to look--around a bend in the
gallery, not more than a hundred yards away, he found a complete
solution. And at the same time he observed that which filled him once
more with misgivings.

In a little nook or side-grotto of the cavern, the bones of animals
were strewn in bewildering profusion. Cast one on top of another in
a heap that towered above his head over an area great enough to seat
a hundred men, they stared at him with the ghastliness of a graveyard
dismantled--great bones and small bones, bones straight and whole
and bones crushed and shattered, bones clean and white and bones
dirt-crusted and discolored, the skulls of birds mingling with the
broken jaw-bones of wild cattle and bison, the teeth of wolves and
bears, the horns of rhinoceroses, and the curling tusks of the mammoth.

For many minutes Ru stood staring at that gruesome spectacle. He was
not less fascinated than alarmed; he knew that he had made a discovery
as meaningful as it was appalling. Beings of his own kind had inhabited
this cave--no doubt inhabited it at this very moment! At any instant
they might thrust themselves upon him! Perhaps even now they were
peering out at him from unseen recesses! But what sort of men were
they? Were they to be welcomed or dreaded?

To this question he received an early answer. As he stood regarding
the great mass of bones inquiringly, his attention was caught by a
half-hidden object with familiar outlines. And, reaching down with a
shudder, he drew forth--a battered human skull!

Recoiling as if shot back by a spring, he cast the hideous trophy from
him--and at the same instant caught sight of another skull with leering
human eye-sockets!

A shiver came over him; the hair on his head and neck prickled and
bristled as if to stand up straight. All too well he understood!
Sudden and terrorizing visions came to him of the man-eaters he had
encountered among the woods; and he knew that once again he was
straying into the haunts of cannibals!



                              CHAPTER XX

                          _From Bad to Worse_


For a long while Ru was uncertain what next to do. He knew that he
must at last be approaching an entrance to the cave, for no tribe of
men could penetrate far into the interior; yet just when escape was
almost within his grasp, the hope of it was snatched from him. If he
were to continue toward the expected exit, would he not encounter the
man-eaters? and would it not be better even to die of starvation than
to fall beneath their clubs?

Yet to return through the dark labyrinths was impossible. Almost any
fate would be preferable to roaming again through those lightless
mazes. Hence, after weighing and balancing the opposing perils, Ru
decided upon the course of daring; and once more he took his way
through the dim corridors, advancing with the manner of a spy in
hostile territory, while after him Wuff trailed with a huge bone
gripped between his jaws.

But of the expected exit there was no sign. As by degrees the
illumination from the slit in the roof grew more remote, Ru found
himself wandering back into the darkness. At length, rounding a sudden
turn, he was plunged into total blackness once more--and again he
wondered whether he had not taken the wrong passageway.

But the tormenting doubt had not been long with him when he reached a
second turn--and suddenly all his horror and apprehension came surging
back. Vaguely, through the gloom ahead, he beheld a light, a blurred
yellowish light that shook and wavered eerily. At first it was so
indistinct that he thought he might merely have imagined it; but, as
he advanced, it grew slowly brighter, and gigantic shadows danced on
the dim walls ahead, until he could no longer doubt that he saw the
reflection of a fire.

At this realization, his impulse was to flee. Around those wavering
flames, he felt certain, were crouched a circle of unclad hairy black
forms, with brutish faces uplifted and enormous clubs ready to strike.
These he did not care to confront. Yet he could not return to the dark
mazes. Ahead of him--if by some fortunate chance he was spared--there
would be light and rest and food, the only things on earth he now
craved.

Cheered by this hope, he huddled more closely against the walls and
still pressed onward, while each moment the danger increased. Each
moment the flames leaped more vividly and more fantastically; each
moment it grew more apparent that he was approaching the abode of man.
Before long, his nostrils caught the acrid odor of smoke; not much
later, he could hear the actual crackling of the fire; and at about
the same time there came to him--enticingly and yet horribly came to
him--the murmuring of human voices. The words were indistinguishable;
he could not even tell whether it was his own language that was spoken;
there was no more than a confused babbling, a sound as of many persons
chattering....

Because of a bend in the gallery, he could catch no glimpse of the
strangers; and his chief desire now was that they should catch no
glimpse of him. As he approached within hailing distance, accordingly,
he crouched down to half his normal height, with head bent low
and every sense alert; and for many yards he crawled through that
unsteadily lighted passageway. Just behind him Wuff followed, with nose
to the ground and eyes that glittered; but the beast was as silent as
he, as though also aware that a sound might mean betrayal.

It is needless to describe with what trembling and what caution Ru
moved when at last the turn was within arm's reach. The firelight had
grown much brighter, and the walls shone with a redder glow; the air
was thickly charged with smoke, and was hot as with the fetid breath
of some great monster; the murmur of voices had become each instant
louder although not less confused. From time to time, there burst forth
a disquieting, raucous laughter that seemed vaguely familiar.

Hesitatingly and with limbs a-tremble, Ru stretched himself at full
length upon the ground. Then, fearful of discovery and ready to flee
at the first suspicious sign, he craned his neck forward and peeped
at last around the turn in the wall. As he did so, his eyes bulged
half-way out of his head, a low amazed cry escaped his lips, and like
one bereft of his wits, he leaped to his feet and plunged around the
turn, waving his arms and shouting in mad abandon:

"My people! My people! Look, my people! Here I am, come back!"

From around a great fire there sprang scores of hairy, stooping
figures. Some started toward Ru with cries of astonishment, others
stood still as though paralyzed, many withdrew with shrieks of alarm.
For a moment pandemonium reigned, while something between mere
bewilderment and panic possessed the surging, firelit shapes.

"Ru! Ru!" shouted some of the bolder, pressing forward while the more
timid still retreated. "Where did you come from? We thought you were
dead!"

Like a weird echo the others took up the cry, "We thought you were
dead! We thought you were dead!"

In confusion that equaled their own, Ru stood regarding his tribesfolk.
"I do not understand! Where do you come from?" he heard himself
demanding. "How did you enter here?"

But before he could frame less excited speech, the torrent of their
questions had overwhelmed him. The frightened ones, regaining their
courage, had come crowding around him, all crying out simultaneously in
such a storm that they were scarcely able to hear even themselves.

It was only by constant repetition that Ru managed to make himself
heard. "Give me to eat, my people," was his insistent plea. "I am weak
with hunger, for I have not tasted food since two suns have set. Give
me to eat, and then I will tell you all you ask!"

"Give him to eat!" spoke a commanding voice; and Grumgra, edging his
way through the mob, came glowering up to Ru.

"So the Sparrow-Hearted has come back!" he snarled. "He has come back,
after leaving us when we needed him. He ran away when we sent him to
find out about the cave--and now he comes creeping back like a hungry
babe!"

Ru stood regarding Grumgra in puzzled hostility, but uttered not a
word. And with a growl the chieftain continued: "But we will forget
that now. The Sparrow-Hearted only remembers that he must eat--so let
him eat. There will be time for other things later. But if he cannot
tell us where he has been, his punishment will be such as no man can
know twice!"

Whereat, with a significant flourish of his club, Grumgra went
bristling away down the smoky corridor.

But the chieftain's threat passed immediately from Ru's mind. The next
instant, provided with the juicy roasted hind quarter of a young wild
boar, he was chewing and chewing with the gusto of a famished beast,
while the meat disappeared at a rate that was truly astonishing.
Meantime, at his side, Wuff ravenously gnawed at the head of a deer
which one of the women, on a generous impulse, had flung to him; and
on every hand, as though witnessing some extraordinary spectacle, the
people hovered to watch the two feasters.

It was many minutes before, his savage hunger appeased, Ru began to
observe his surroundings. But when his huge portion of meat had been
cleared away almost to the bone and he was toying pleasantly with the
few remaining fragments, he took careful note of the details of the
cavern. The section occupied by his people was higher-roofed and far
wider than the average, and reached for hundreds of yards without the
usual turns and windings; while the proximity of the open air was
revealed by a steady white light that shone in through an opening some
distance beyond. Ru was surprised to see that the walls about him were
blackened as with the smoke of many fires, and that on the ground was a
fine gray dust as of accumulated ash.

But he was less interested in his physical surroundings than in the
individuals composing the throng about him. Among them he recognized
Woonoo the Hot-Blooded and Kuff the Bear-Hunter; but after a while
he caught sight of more welcome features, and felt a great warmth
rising within him as the sparkling glance of Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed
fell upon him. In her expression there was a silent greeting, which
he silently returned, and which filled him with more gladness than
words could have done. She did not come forward to speak to him, nor
make any demonstration; and he knew that this was because of her fear
of Grumgra and Grumgra's terrible jealousy. Yet, when at length he
questioned the people, and again asked how they had chanced to be in
this cave, it was she who undertook to answer.

"We have not much to tell you, Ru," she said, while she smilingly
looked him full in the face. "After we saw you go into the cave, all
the people stood waiting a long, long while outside, thinking you
would soon come out. But you did not come, and at last it grew dark,
and terrible things were whispered among us, for it was said that the
bad spirits of the cave had taken you, so that you could never come
back. That night we camped on the river bank just under the cave, but
when the sun came up you were still away, and we thought that you were
dead.... And that thought was like a great pain, Ru.

"Only Grumgra did not believe you had died. He said the Sparrow-Hearted
had run away, and should be punished. But not many of us believed him,
for had anyone seen you come out? And so when Grumgra asked for someone
else to go into the cave, we all cried out that the cave-gods were
evil, and would strike down any man they could catch. And no one could
be found to go in; and at last we had to go on and look for another
cave.

"But we did not have to look far. The sun was not yet in the middle of
the skies when we saw another opening high up in the rocks. Grumgra
sent Mumlo the Trail-Finder to climb into it; and soon he came back
and told us it was big and empty, so that we could all go to live
there. And this we did, and the cave he saw was the one we are in now.
We have spent one night here already, and Grumgra says this is to be
our cave always."

Yonyo paused, and over Ru's mind flashed the explanation of his sudden
reunion with his people. The cave had more than one entrance--possibly
many entrances far apart and connected by long winding galleries; and
he had entered by one of these gateways, and, without knowing it, had
been making his way toward another.

But as this comforting solution came to him he recalled once more the
pile of bones in the twilight grotto--and the battered human skulls.
And the terror and mystery of the cave seemed as great as ever!

Yonyo's next words only confirmed Ru's apprehensions. "Many of
our people think we should not stay in this cave," proceeded the
Smiling-Eyed, while her auditors nodded agreement. "They say there are
bad spirits here, who will bring great harm to us unless we go away.
And they are right in saying this, for we have found some things which
the spirits have forgotten and left behind them. On the floor we saw
the ashes of the fires that the spirits have lighted, and the black
bones from the feasts that the spirits have eaten; and we picked up the
broken flint tools that the spirits have used, and a great club all
colored and marked with dried blood. This is an evil sign, as Zunzun
the Marvel-Worker will tell you. What do you think, Ru?"

"I think the Smiling-Eyed speaks wisely," declared Ru. "It is true--the
cave is filled with bad spirits. And some of these look like men, but
have the hearts of hyenas and eat other men. You shall see them soon,
very soon--unless you go to some other cave."

Ru dropped into a frowning silence, and low murmurs of dread and horror
shuddered through the assemblage. But almost instantly there sounded an
authoritative bellow, which drowned out every other voice.

"Has Ru the Sparrow-Hearted eaten?" rang out the thunderous words of
Grumgra. "If so, let him come here, that he may tell us where he has
been! Come, let him tell us where he has been!"

"I shall tell you everything!" Ru shouted his reply, in tones that
sounded like a challenge. And he arose and strode toward the fire
and seated himself calmly in the light, while the people stationed
themselves in a chattering circle about him, and Grumgra, grasping his
inseparable club, crouched sullenly almost within arm's reach.

"Remember," muttered the chieftain, by way of final admonition, "you
must speak truth! You must speak truth! If you do not--" Here he lifted
his club, and sat glaring at Ru threateningly, but no further words
were forthcoming.

"Why should I not speak truth?" demanded Ru.

Grumgra still maintained a morose silence, and Ru continued: "I have
done deeds so strange they may not sound like truth, but that is not
my fault. Even I would not believe them to be truth, if I did not know
they had happened. You remember how once Woonoo and Kuff saw me sink in
the water, and I was drowned and did wonderful things for the wind-god
and then came back to you once more. I thought that would be the last
time I would ever die and come back to you--but it was not so. Once
more I have died, and this time the god of the cave has given me back
my life."

Ru paused, and an awed silence held the audience.

He was about to continue when Grumgra, apparently less impressed
than the others, burst into a snarling "You lie! You were not dead,
Sparrow-Hearted! You ran away, and now you tell us foolish stories!"

"May the cave-god show you that I speak truth!" swore Ru, lifting his
hands appealingly to the blackened ceiling. "May the cave-god strike me
down if I lie!"

But the cave-god did not strike Ru down; and the spectators, after
waiting horror-stricken for a blast of lightning, seemed already half
convinced.

"You remember, my people," Ru continued, after he had allowed time to
make his appeal effective, "that you saw me go into the other cave down
the river, and that I did not come out. Now suddenly you see me in this
cave. And I do not come from outside, but from deep down in it. How
does this come to be, my people?"

There was a puzzled silence. The slow seconds dragged past, but no one
would offer an explanation.

"This shows you," Ru at length pointed out, "that I must have been
dead. While I was dead, a god bore me here from the other cave."

Again he paused; and this time not even Grumgra ventured a word in
dissent.

"You ask me how I came to die?" he questioned, his manner growing
constantly more assured. "You remember, do you not, that two hyenas
came out of the cave just after I went in?"

A dozen voices grunted a ready affirmative before Ru continued:

"Those two belonged to a great pack, many in number as the men of our
tribe. Bad spirits possessed them, and they fell upon me as soon as
I went in, and cut and tore me with their sharp teeth. One or two I
might have slain, but what could I do against a whole caveful of them?
I struck hard with my club, and broke the skull of their chief, a
terrible beast as big as a bear. But the others all jumped on me, and
soon they were on top of me so thick I could not breathe. I could see
their little eyes shining like blood, and hear their big jaws snapping,
and feel myself being torn to bits; but there was nothing I could do.
The next moment I lay silent and still, and could not move at all; and
then I knew that I was dead.

"It is terrible, my people, to be dead, for then everything moves very,
very slowly; and the time it takes a stone to drop from the cave wall
to the floor seems like the time between two days. And so I saw very
much while I lay there and felt the hyenas cut me to pieces. First
there came something big and dark, like the shadow of a man, only
as high as three men standing one on top of another, and it was the
cave-god, and it looked at me, and said: 'This is Ru the Eagle-Hearted.
He is a brave man; he has killed the chief of the hyenas. What shall
I do to reward him?' And the cave-god seemed to think for a while and
then he turned toward me, and said: 'I will make him alive again. That
is the best thing I can do for such a brave man.'

"And the next that I knew I was standing on my feet, and all my wounds
were gone. Then I felt big hands lifting me, and carrying me through
the dark cave, far, far away. And I heard the god's voice in my ear,
'I will take you to another cave, where you will find your people.
They are in need of you, for there are bad men about, who eat other
men like wolves. For two days you will wander around without food,
and after that you will find them. This I will do for you, O Ru the
Eagle-Hearted, since you have killed my greatest foe, the chief of the
hyenas.'

"And all this was done; and the cave-god left me to myself in the dark,
and for two days I wandered without knowing where I was going, until I
found you again, my people. That is all I have to tell you."

Ru ceased, and a long, long silence ensued. The people stared at him
in fascinated wonder; they seemed stricken mute before the tale they
had heard. Not a murmur of doubt stirred amid those shadowy scores;
the apish, glowing faces expressed bewilderment and surprise, but not
incredulity. Even Grumgra seemed impressed, and had forgotten his
growling and his club.

But just when Ru's triumph appeared to be complete, there came a cry
that was like a threat, and a stooping figure pressed forward with
gleaming eyes. It was Zunzun the Marvel-Worker; and the malignant grin
on his wily old face boded no good for Ru.

"Let me ask one thing more, Sparrow-Hearted!" he challenged, as he
halted almost within touching distance. "One thing more--and if you can
answer me this, I will believe that you speak truth."

"Speak then, and I will answer!" returned Ru, boldly.

"Tell me this," demanded the Marvel-Worker, in tones of ill-concealed
malice. "Tell me this--where was your little wolf when you were dead?
He is with us here now, yet surely the hyenas must have killed him too.
Did the cave-spirit bring him also back to life?"

And, for the first time, it occurred to Ru that, in contriving his
story, he had forgotten Wuff altogether. For a moment he hesitated,
utterly taken aback; his faculties of speech seemed paralyzed. He saw
the scores of eyes regarding him in wonder and with the first signs
of doubt; he saw Zunzun's hostile grin, and a glitter of menace on
the brow of Grumgra; he saw Yonyo's face contracted in a disappointed
frown--and, in his confusion, all he could do was to stammer a few
halting, meaningless syllables.

Before he could find coherent speech again, his sputterings were
drowned out by the thunder-tones of Grumgra.

"You lie, Sparrow-Hearted! You lie! I told you you lie!" And Grumgra
sprang to his feet, and the club flashed imperiously in air, and came
down with a crash--where Ru had been. Leaping agilely from the attack,
the intended victim had gone dashing away into the startled crowd.

But Grumgra was not to be deprived of his prey. Brushing past his
bewildered people as though they had been sheaves of straw, he bowled
over two or three of the more careless without so much as a backward
glance; then, swinging his club viciously while wolflike snarls sounded
from his throat, he started at a sprint toward the inner recesses of
the gallery, where a slim figure was racing toward a black void.

In a yelling mob, the people gathered to watch. "Look at them run! Look
at them run!" they cried. "Grumgra will catch him! Grumgra will catch
him! He cannot beat Grumgra! Grumgra is a fast runner! Grumgra will
strike him down!"

And no doubt Grumgra would have struck his victim down, had not a still
more stirring event intervened.

Unnoticed in the excitement, a fur-clad figure had darted in through
the cave entrance. Apparently he had not observed the agitation of his
kinsmen; certainly, he gave it not a second thought. Coming forward
by great strides and leaps, he shouted at the top of his voice: "My
people! My people! Make ready! Defend yourselves! The beast-men come!"

Only a few turned to heed him. But while the echoes of his appeal
still reverberated about him, he cried out a second time, in tones
of unmistakable terror: "Hear me, my people! The beast-men come! The
beast-men come! Defend yourselves! They will kill you all, will kill
you all!"

This time a score or more wheeled about to observe the newcomer. "Mumlo
the Trail-Finder!" they muttered, while frantically he repeated, "The
beast-men come! The beast-men come! The beast-men come!"

Struck by the note of genuine alarm in his voice, the people forgot all
about Grumgra and Ru, and shrilled with Mumlo, "The beast-men come! The
beast-men come!"

Soon all the cavern rang with the echoes of that dreadful cry. Even
Grumgra, hearing it, stopped short in terror, and abandoned the pursuit
of the Sparrow-Hearted. A moment later, he was one of the shrieking,
howling, fear-stricken mob racing furiously toward the cave entrance.



                              CHAPTER XXI

                    _The Arrival of the Beast-Men_


When the multitude stormed and crowded out of the narrow rocky doorway,
there was at first nothing to be seen. Just beneath them the cliff
walls shot almost perpendicularly for perhaps two hundred feet.
Above them the rocky ledges slanted for other hundreds of feet, with
projecting crags interspersed with a few dwarfed trees and stunted
shrubs. At their feet the river curved tortuously through a wilderness
of reeds, bushes and dense woods, while not very far away the opposite
cañon walls arose in bare and beetling magnificence. But not a living
thing was to be seen in all those desolate expanses; and the beast-men
that Mumlo had reported might have been the figments of a nightmare.

But so excited were the people that at first they did not observe how
still and unperturbed was the scene before them. Surging through the
cave entrance like stampeding cattle, they literally fell over one
another in their eagerness for a glimpse of the beast-men; on and on
they pressed, on and on in an insistent stream, those in the rear
pushing so frantically to be first that those in front could not
remain on the narrow ledge, but were crowded off, and, with horrible
screams, pitched into the abyss.

Not until five or six had plunged to their death did the madness of the
mob begin to subside. Then by degrees the furious pressure subsided;
the cries of the throng grew somewhat less tempestuous, the crowding
slowly relaxed; several who had been clinging to an overhanging spur of
the rock were rescued; and the people began to glance into the cañon a
little in the manner of reasonable beings.

It was at about this point that Grumgra arrived. "Let me see! Let me
see! Let me see!" he bawled, shoving his way to the front; and only by
the exercise of rare agility were two tribesmen saved from toppling
over the precipice at the chieftain's heedless approach.

Long and severely did Grumgra stare into the wooded wilderness, while
his people watched expectantly, as though confident that his eyes would
see that which none of them had been able to discern.

But apparently even his vision had its limitations. "There are no
beast-men!" he growled, as he turned angrily back toward the cave.
"Where is Mumlo the Trail-Finder? Why is it that he tells us lies?" And
his little ferret eyes gleamed with a vengeful fire.

"If Mumlo had not told us lies," his kinsmen heard him mutter,
ruefully, "I would have tasted the Sparrow-Hearted's blood!" There were
none who wished to be in the Trail-Finder's place just then.

But as Grumgra went slouching back into the cave, low cries of surprise
and fear burst from the watchers on the ledge. And before the chieftain
had had time to wheel about and return, there rang forth from below a
yell so blood-curdling and ferocious that the people could only shiver,
and stare in blind consternation. At first Grumgra thought it was
the call of some wild animal, so shrill and cat-like and altogether
unearthly did it sound; but in a moment he had learned his mistake; for
once more, as the people pressed close to the precipice, a terrorized
chorus shook the air, "The beast-men! The beast-men! The beast-men!"

Now, as Grumgra strode again to the verge of the precipice, he forgot
his anger against Mumlo. Certainly, here were the beast-men after all!
At the edge of the woods, almost directly below, he could see them
screaming: two or three huge thick-set stooping shapes, taller than his
own people by nearly half a foot, and mantled--in place of clothes--in
shaggy black hair as thick as the fur of a wolf.

As he watched, those two or three were increased to six or eight, then
to dozens, then to scores, then to a rabble that seemed innumerable.
Screeching and shouting with a fierceness that made even Grumgra
shudder, they came pouring out of the woods: brawny club-wielding
men whom Grumgra himself would not lightly have opposed; women borne
down by great bundles of fagots and the limbs of slaughtered beasts;
children of all sizes, rushing about like frenzied animals, and
shrieking insanely. As if nature had not made them hideous enough,
with their baboon-like furry faces dominated by bony eye-ridges, many
of the men wore crowns of bears' teeth or of eagles' feathers, of the
skulls of wolves or the horns of the aurochs; and, across their ox-like
chests, not a few of the males had painted stripes and patches of a
bloody red.

Directly beneath the cave entrance the multitude halted, while their
howls and yells rose to a pitch of frenzy surpassing that of a chorus
of hyenas. Meanwhile, with agitated, angry gestures, many of them were
pointing upward, pointing significantly and menacingly upward.

At this evidence of the beast-men's wrath, terrified murmurs trembled
from the lips of the watchers on the cliff.

"This is the beast-men's cave!" they whispered, confusedly, in
excitement that was a compound of astonishment, fear, and rage. "This
is the beast-men's cave! They come back from the hunt--see the meat
they carry! They want their cave back! But we will not give it to them!
It is ours! We took it! They cannot get it now! We will fight for it!
We will fight for it!"

The watchers on the cliff had spoken truly.... Even while they stood
gaping in expectant horror, the first stone was thrown in one of the
earliest of all human wars.

The beginning was as much a challenge as an attack. One of the
beast-men, taller and stouter even than his giant fellows, stepped out
from the throng with defiant screams and howls, picked up a rock the
size of a small apple, and hurled it toward the crowd on the cliff. His
aim was good; the initial speed of the stone was prodigious; but the
distance was too great; and the missile, stopping many feet short of
its goal, did a graceful about-turn and plunged back to earth with such
force that the beast-men scattered before it in terror.

And from the watchers on the cliff came a low cackling of derisive
laughter.

But Grumgra, not content with such mild ridicule, shouldered his way to
the edge of the precipice, flung both his great arms high in air, and
let forth such a bellow as must have strained even his powerful lungs.

While the woods rang with the echoes of his wrath, there sounded from
beneath him an equally loud bellow; then other bellowings in a chorus
fit to rival a thunderstorm. Stones in a shower leaped into air,
although always to fall back without reaching their mark.

As Grumgra watched these futile missiles, a new idea dawned in his
mind. Seizing a huge rock, he flung it downward with terrible force;
and it came to earth among the beast-men with a thud that might well
have alarmed them.

But no one was injured; and the low-voiced laughter of the savages,
evil-sounding and sibilant almost to the point of hissing, broke forth
in a harsh and demonic chorus.

That laughter was soon to end. A second rock from the hand of Grumgra
went hurtling downward, straight toward a dense little knot of men and
women. This time the watchers heard no thud of the striking missile;
but there came a frightful moan, followed by terrified shrieks; and one
of the great shaggy forms was seen to slump to earth, where it lay in
an inert mass.

While howls of rage and yells of dismay broke forth among the
beast-men, the little band on the cliff joined voices in a tremendous
shout, a long-drawn scream of exultation.

Profiting from the example of Grumgra, all the men now picked up
stones and pebbles and flung them downward. Whether their aim was good
they never learned, for the beast-men, hearing the missiles thudding
and clattering about them, showed no desire to face the onslaught.
Squealing and bawling in a panic-stricken mob, they made for the
shelter of the woods. In less than a minute, the last of them had
disappeared into the concealing foliage--and thus was the first round
in the fight won by the Umbaddu.

From the cries of glee and the roars of derision with which they
watched their fleeing foe, one might have thought that the contest was
now over. Indeed, the Umbaddu did believe that the contest was over.
Gibbering in the happy consciousness of victory, they strutted back
into the cave, where they entertained their women with tales of how
their bravery had frightened away the beast-men.

Meanwhile Grumgra, in a more amiable mood than before, returned to the
pursuit of Ru. But he was without success; nowhere could he catch a
sign of the Sparrow-Hearted, and nowhere find anyone who could tell him
of the Sparrow-Hearted's whereabouts.

It was perhaps an hour later when one of the tribesmen, venturing down
the cliff wall just below the cave, stopped short with a piercing
scream. From beyond a projection of rock some twenty or thirty yards
beneath, he caught a glimpse of two furtive black eyes staring from a
face as hairy as a bear's; then of two other apelike eyes; then again
of two eyes; until he was conscious of a multitude crawling beneath,
crawling toward him slyly and silently up the precipitous ledges.

"The beast-men! The beast-men!" he cried, scrambling back into the
cave. And once more his fellows rushed forward in a tumultuous mob to
confront the foe.

They were barely in time. As the foremost tribesman dashed out upon the
ledge before the cave entrance, two heavy gnarled hands were reaching
above the shelf of rock, and a bulky form was projecting itself over
the edge.

A vigorous blow from a club served to dislodge the intruder, who went
plunging with a terrible howl to the boulders beneath. At the same
time, two other hairy faces protruded, two other clubs came down with
murderous intent--and hideous screams rent the air as the aggressors
vanished, to be replaced by others, who likewise disappeared without
being able to lift an arm in their own defense.

After five of the beast-men had thus been vanquished, the rest appeared
to lose heart. At a greater speed than one would have imagined
possible, the huge stooping forms began to slide down the cliff, while
after them came rocks in a shower. How the Umbaddu yelled and clamored
at their foes' retreat! How gaily and energetically they let loose the
torrents of stones! The swift pebbles did far less execution than the
boulders which the defenders rolled to the rim of the cliff, and which
went roaring and rumbling down amid a cloud of dust, crushing the bones
of more than one unfortunate.

How many of their foes were slain the Umbaddu never knew. But whether
five perished or five score, it was at least certain that the victory
had gone for a second time to the Umbaddu!

Torn and bedraggled, the surviving beast-men went rushing toward the
woods as though beset by wolves; while from the successful little
band on the cliff there came another concerted long-drawn scream of
exultation, and the victors returned once more to report to their women
how the enemy had fled before their prowess.

Not least conspicuous among the conquerors was Grumgra, who announced
that the foe had fallen terrorized over the cliff at the very sight
of him--and who saw to it that his fellows confirmed his story. Yet,
though he gloated as warmly as any, the first ghost of apprehension
began to stir in his mind. "The beast-men came, and then came again,"
he was heard to mutter to Zunzun. "What if they come once more? They
are big and strong--their clubs could kill many men. Should we not
watch to see that they cannot get near?" And after a hasty conference
with the Marvel-Worker, Grumgra commissioned two of his followers to
serve as sentinels on the ledge just outside the cave.

But the day passed without further sign of danger. The cañon depths
remained unruffled and tranquil; no voice was to be heard from the
thick, secluding woods, save the occasional grunt of a prowling beast
or the querulous cry of a bird; no moving thing was to be seen except
the waters that foamed impetuously from the gray rocks, and now and
then an antlered shape that emerged shadowlike from the woods, and
shadowlike vanished. By the time twilight fell, Grumgra was convinced
that the beast-men had gone never to return.

And now, forgetting the foe altogether, he set about to look once more
for Ru. But no Ru was to be seen among the throng by the fire, and
no Ru could be detected even in the black cavern recesses; nor could
anyone say where Ru had been seen; while of Wuff, likewise, there was
no sign. Although the chieftain growled and grumbled a great deal, he
could gain nothing by threatening Kuff and Woonoo and their fellow
tribesmen; and finally, muttering that the following day should see the
Sparrow-Hearted's end, he abandoned the quest and settled himself down
to sleep.

It was sometime in the depths of the night that Grumgra awoke. About
him on all sides sounded the rhythmic breathing of his people; between
him and the cave entrance the fire, burning to a dull red glow, cast
feeble shadows. Instinctively Grumgra reached for his club--although
his alert eyes had beheld nothing suspicious, he was aware that not all
was well. And as his fingers closed about the oaken cudgel, he caught
sight of that which sent a howl of terror shivering from his throat.
Just beyond the cave entrance there was a light--and the light was not
that of the cavern fire!

In an instant, the place was in an uproar. Aroused by Grumgra's
scream, the people staggered to their feet with confused cries.
Then, panic-stricken, they surged without knowing why through the
semidarkness, stumbling over one another, shoving one another to the
floor, blundering against the walls like lamp-dazzled moths.

Yet at first there was nothing to justify their agitation--nothing,
except the mutterings of Grumgra. "I saw a light," he mumbled, "--a
light as big as a man's hand." But the light had disappeared; and where
it had been there was only blackness.

"There are bad spirits about!" Grumgra called out, when at last he had
collected his wits, and the confusion had begun to subside. "There are
bad spirits about! Listen to me, my people! If you are very quiet, you
may see the spirits!"

Frightened cries burst forth anew; but Grumgra, with a snarl,
threatened whoever should speak again. Very quickly the threat took
effect, and the people lapsed into silence.

A minute dragged by, a slow minute that seemed never-ending. The only
sound was from the suppressed breathing of the multitude; among all
those shadowy shapes, there was no movement. How long they would have
remained thus petrified by terror no one can say; in another moment,
someone might have broken down, and screamed out his fears; but before
the moment could pass, there occurred the event for which Grumgra was
waiting.

In the dark entrance of the cave, a flaring light burst forth, borne
slowly at the height of a man's hand. And, by its sputtering, sallow
illumination, a dim black form was vaguely visible.

For a second the watchers within the cave stood gaping in silence;
then, as by an electrical impulse, the same horrible thought shot
through scores of minds.

"The beast-men! The beast-men!" rang out a chorus of screams; and the
echoes of that cry pealed and reverberated in a deafening din.

Once more the light withdrew.... Murmuring with fear, the people stood
staring toward the point of blackness where it had disappeared.

"The beast-men are coming! We must not let them come! If they come, we
will all die!" howled Grumgra. And, lifting his club pugnaciously, he
started toward the cave entrance.

Encouraged by his lead, most of the men quickly followed. Their clubs
swung angrily; their shouts were threatening and furious....

The sequel was never quite clear to the survivors. To the women,
huddled in a terrified band in the shadows to the rear, all that was
apparent was that pandemonium broke forth. Even as their startled eyes
caught glimpses of new lights that flashed and flickered from the outer
blackness, their ears were assailed by unearthly screams more horrible
even than the bellowing of Grumgra. And while the screams shivered and
died down, there came to them the sound of scuffling, the thunder and
thudding of terrific blows; vaguely they saw dark shapes that whirled
and twisted, heavy arms that brandished mighty weapons, a tumult of
tempestuous forms. As the conflict advanced, with a confusion of growls
and mutterings, and groans, and shrieks, and yells, it seemed to grow
constantly more bitter and violent; and there came a time when some
of the women, screeching and clamoring like the men, seized clubs and
plunged into the affray.

It was not many minutes before all was over. The howls of the
combatants died away, to be succeeded by a series of shrieks and
wailings as of men in retreat; the blur of struggling figures resolved
itself dimly into individuals; and from the black cave entrance came
the shouts of the triumphant and the moans of the wounded....

When the first pale light of morning made it possible to see clearly
the results, it was found that five of the Umbaddu lay dead, their
skulls shattered by the blows of clubs; while two were wounded so
badly that their recovery seemed impossible, and Grumgra ordered them
slain. As for the beast-men--they had left three corpses in the cave,
great hideous corpses with monkeylike faces, bearlike mats of hair,
evil black eyes, and ghastly blackened teeth all sharpened to a fine
point.



                             CHAPTER XXII

                         _The Beast-Men Score_


After the night attack, the beast-men disappeared as mysteriously as
they had arrived. Except for the three that lay slain in the cave,
no sign of them was to be seen on the following morning--the cañon
lay quiet and apparently untenanted, and from the woods there came no
suspicious sound. And once again the Umbaddu wondered whether their
foes had not finally departed.

It was most necessary that they find out--and find out without delay.
The people required water from the river, since that trickling from
the cavern walls was not ample; they needed fagots for burning, roots
and berries for food, and meat to replenish their dwindling supplies.
How procure any of these essentials unless they ventured down into the
cañon, where possibly the beast-men were lurking? For the first time,
some dim inkling of the danger ahead began to filter into the minds of
the tribesfolk; but, as yet, it was merely an inkling, and the men had
no thought of possible defeat as they boasted of the exploits of the
night and swore to spill their enemies' blood to the last drop.

It was sometime in the afternoon when three of the tribesmen, wearied
by the hours of waiting, decided that they might safely descend the
cliff and quench their thirst in the river. Cautiously they began to
slide down the rocky walls, while their people thronged the terrace
above to watch; slowly, with eyes alert and clubs gripped in readiness,
they released themselves from boulder to boulder, taking their way in
single file down the steep, narrow ledge. As they advanced, they gained
in confidence, for the stillness of the woods remained unruffled, and
no suspicious murmur or movement startled their eager senses. From
above, their tribesfolk cheered and shouted encouragingly, and the
farther they descended the more uproarious grew that chorus from the
cliff; and they themselves, reassured not less by the clamor of their
comrades than by the serenity of the rest of the world, had little fear
for the outcome.

At length they stood unharmed at the base of the cliff! At length,
picking their way warily over a flat rocky space, they were pressing
toward the brink of the river! Now they were actually at the river
bank; now the foremost was bending down and sucking in huge gulps of
water. And from his tribesmen there sounded an applauding chorus that
was like a peal of triumph.

But with disconcerting suddenness that chorus snapped short. Shrieks of
alarm and cries of warning shrilled from the watching throng, mingled
with sharp exclamations of horror. Then, almost before the three daring
ones could wheel about to face the peril, the woods behind them rang
with savage whoops and ululations, and a multitude of club-wielding
hairy forms swarmed forth.

Caught by surprise, with the woods and the cliff on one side and the
river on the other, the three assaulted ones had no chance to flee.
Except for a few random strokes as futile as a hare's resistance to
an eagle, they had almost no chance even to fight--their foes bore
down upon them in a throng that was overwhelming. In an instant one of
the men, not finding time even to lift his club, was clutched in the
grip of half a dozen iron arms, in which he struggled helplessly as a
manacled child; the next moment, swinging their cudgels despairingly,
the other two went down moaning before the blows of the beast-men, who
pounded and pounded their prostrate forms with the fury of exultant
fiends.

And now, while the angered throng on the cliff screamed out their
hatred and flung rocks in unavailing showers, the beast-men proceeded
to display their true nature. Bearing the two corpses and their one
living prisoner as the spoils of battle, they retreated to an open spot
at the verge of the woods, within clear view of their foemen, although
just out of range of the missiles. Then, building a fire while the
howls of the Umbaddu still pursued them, they prepared for a pastime
that made their enemies gape in amazement and horror.

At first the Umbaddu did not understand what the beast-men were about
when, by means of huge flint knives and axes, they dismembered the
bodies of the slain; and even when the severed limbs were placed above
the fire to roast and sizzle, the ghastly meaning was not at first
clear to the watchers from above. But, from the very beginning, the
Umbaddu had little doubt regarding the beast-men's plans for their
living captive. Bruised and bleeding, the unfortunate man was dragged
to a resting-place near the fire, where he was held full-length upon
the ground, each of his hands pinioned to earth by a grimacing foe, his
legs helpless beneath the weight of a particularly bulky adversary.
And while he lay there like a soon-to-be-slaughtered beast, at times
pleading with a fury that awakened only screeches of derision and at
times moaning so pitifully as to arouse a low hissing laughter, his
captors proceeded to entertain themselves at his expense. All about
him, in a jabbering crush, crowded the stooping, hairy rabble; men and
women pushed one another fiercely aside for a glimpse of their victim;
children were brushed to earth like dirt while their elders stared
at the stranger with inquisitive apish eyes, pulling at his hair to
discover whether it would come out, lifting up his deerskin mantle to
find out what was beneath, poking him in the nose or face or jabbing
him with sharp sticks for the pleasure of hearing him scream.

But evidently he was held for some graver purpose. After the people
had amused themselves for some time and the captive had been prodded
almost into unconsciousness, the sport was stopped abruptly by one of
the tallest of the beast-men--a particularly unsightly individual,
with face painted red, and body covered so thickly with feathers that
he looked almost like a walking bird. Certainly, he was a bird of ill
omen--for, after a single scream from his powerful lungs, the mob began
edging away from the captive as if from something pestilential, until
there remained only the three who pinned the man to earth. Thereupon
the feathered one began to speak in a loud and ceremonious drawl, while
the others flung themselves to the ground before him; then, rising,
they retreated still farther, and, as though at a given signal, burst
into a tumult of horrible hoots and howls, leaping up and down with
wild gesticulations, and dancing a swift vehement dance of triumph.

At the same time the leader, picking up a long, sharp piece of
flint, held it poised and pointed toward the captive, whom he slowly
approached with diabolical intent. The man gave a gasp of terror; his
eyes rolled and bulged; he strained and struggled as never before,
and for an instant had almost wrenched his right arm free. But all
his efforts were unavailing--slowly, remorselessly, that pointed bit
of flint drew near. When it was within a foot of the intended victim,
the feathered one suddenly paused and flung both hands skyward as if
in supplication to some unseen divinity; then, almost as suddenly, he
emitted a scream that made his hearers' blood run chill, turned about,
bent down, and plunged the flint--into the captive's heart!

Furious yells and shouts of rejoicing burst from hundreds of lips....
But from the watchers on the cliff there came growls of rage and
defiance blent with a low wailing of dismay.

That evening the beast-men made their camp at the verge of the woods,
in full sight of the Umbaddu. Uncannily their fires blazed and
flickered, while above the tree tops the skies glowed an angry red;
uncannily the huge shadowy shapes flitted about the flames, surging
back and forth vaguely, like a rout of festive demons; uncannily
sounded their mutterings and cries, their babbling merriment, their
hissing laughter, the crackling of bones and the crunching of the
powerful jaws of unseen feasters....

When morning came, they had not gone. The fires still burned, although
now smoldering low; hundreds of shaggy forms were sprawled at every
angle upon the ground. Soon after dawn they were all astir, quenching
their thirst at the river or chewing at the few scattered bones that
still told of the night's repast. But they showed no intention of
leaving; and though a violent storm came up, and the wind blew and
blustered frenziedly and the rain came down in torrents, apparently it
never occurred to them to seek quarters elsewhere. They strolled about
in the rain as indifferently as if it had escaped their notice; when it
was over, they shook the water nonchalantly off their hairy bodies and
seated themselves in the gathering sunlight to dry--but still they had
evidently no thought of going away. And the Umbaddu, watching through
the slow hours from their safe perch on the cliff, felt an impatience
that gradually expanded into dread; for now at last, though they could
not have stated the peril in words, they realized that they were
besieged!

       *       *       *       *       *

That evening a conference of all the tribe was held, attended by
every member with the exception of Ru, who was still inexplicably
missing. While four or five of the men kept guard with clubs at the
cavern entrance (which was too large to be blocked with boulders), the
others convened about the fire, not more than a stone's throw from the
gateway. They were not quite so numerous now as when they had assembled
in that other cave many months' travel away; not less than thirty-five
or forty of their number had succumbed to the attacks of the beast-men,
to wild animals, to accident and to disease; and the losses had in no
way been equalized by the few babes born during the migration. Yet, as
the people gathered near the flames in whispering, furtive-eyed groups,
they seemed to understand that the losses they had suffered were slight
beside those which threatened. And such was their apprehension that
their usual lively spirits had deserted them; their chattering was
low-toned and suppressed, their cackling laughter infrequent; they
had scarcely the energy even to quarrel; and for the most part their
feelings were expressed by low moans, plaints, and wailings.

Nor was their depression relieved after Zunzun the Marvel-Worker had
opened the meeting and lifted his voice to entreat the aid of the
fire-god. His supplications had little of the air of conviction;
he had something of the manner of one who implores a favor that
must inevitably be denied. And though the people joined him in his
incantations, at times even reaching a pitch of fervor, yet their
enthusiasm was short-lived; and, as soon as he had gone shuffling away
from the fire, their faces resumed a look of half-understood fear, of
blank and uncomprehending misery.

"My people, what would you have us do?" asked Grumgra, when, in a less
aggressive mood than usual, he took his place in the firelight. "The
bad spirits of the woods have entered the hearts of the beast-men, so
that they want to kill us all. They will not go away--and they know
that we cannot always stay here. We have meat enough till the sun goes
down, and then goes down once more, and then once again. But that is
all--after that, the black demon of hunger will be with us, and we will
cry out, and there will be terrible pains within us; but the more we
cry out the more terrible the pains will be. What would you have us do,
my people? Would you have us all wait here till the hunger-pain comes?"

"No! No! No!" rang out a chorus of despairing cries.

"No! No! No!" shouted a hoarse, deep-toned voice. And Woonoo the
Hot-Blooded, springing up from somewhere among the shadows to the rear,
plunged forward with the earnest appeal: "Let us not wait! Let us take
our clubs and go down the rocks, and fight the beast-people and kill
them all! Let us kill them all, O chief!"

"Let us kill them all!" echoed scores of voices.

But Grumgra, unimpressed, stood regarding Woonoo contemptuously. "And
would you have them kill us instead?" he flung back. "Would you have
them do to us as they did today to our tribesman? Hit us with big
rocks, and then eat us like wolves?"

Incoherent oaths and mutterings greeted these words. And still
mumbling, "Let us not wait! Let us not wait!" Woonoo slipped back into
the shadows.

But, unexpectedly, Woonoo's cause found an able sponsor. "The
Hot-Blooded speaks wisely," declared Zunzun the Marvel-Worker, as
he shambled unsteadily forward. "What can we do but take our clubs
and go down the rocks in a great crowd to fight the beast-men? The
cave-spirits will do nothing for us if we stay here. And we have seen
what they will do if we try to go down in small bands. So let us go
down all together! That is what the fire-god told me when I prayed to
him!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Let us go down all together!" pleaded a dozen excited
voices, led by that of Woonoo.

"How can we go down all together?" demanded Grumgra, his brow
contracted in an anxious frown. "The beast-men are as many as the hands
of all our people--and two clubs are stronger than one."

"Sometimes one club is stronger!" denied Zunzun. "The gods put more
power in one crafty club than in two clubs swung by foolish hands."

Grumgra still glowered fiercely. "A big club is stronger than a crafty
one!" he growled. And he brandished his own lovingly, as if by way of
proof.

"This is what we should do," continued Zunzun hastily, in disregard of
Grumgra's last remark. "If we fight where they can see us and when the
sun shines, the gods of the big clubs will be with the beast-men. But
if we come upon them in the dark, when they do not know how many we
are and cannot see us, the gods of the big clubs will be with us. We
will then make a noise like fighting wild beasts, and kill many of our
enemies and frighten the rest away. This also the fire-god told me when
I spoke to him."

"Let us do as Zunzun says! Do as Zunzun says!" the people began to
clamor--and so insistent were their mutterings that before long
even Grumgra felt obliged to bow to public opinion and commend the
Marvel-Worker's plans.

Excitedly, with the enthusiasm of hope regained, the people commenced
to scheme for that night attack which was to be the all-decisive test
between them and the beast-men.



                             CHAPTER XXIII

                    _By the Light of the Half-Moon_


The following day passed without event. The beast-men remained encamped
near the river within plain view of the cave entrance, and still showed
no inclination to leave; but neither did they seem disposed to launch
another attack. Meanwhile the Umbaddu held carefully to their safe
rocky fastnesses, and never once did any tribesman descend within a
stone's throw of the enemy. So far as any observer might have judged,
the contest was developing into a perpetual deadlock.

But although the day witnessed not so much as a hint of action, yet the
approach of evening was the signal for unusual agitation within the
cave. Men and women were bustling about in a thousand directions on a
thousand eager errands; some were busily sharpening flint implements,
some affectionately smoothing the edges of their clubs; some were
fastening pouches of pebbles in convenient positions on their deerskin
mantles; some were gustily eating, some industriously chattering, some
merely pacing back and forth, back and forth in savage impatience; a
few were praying silently to the gods of the woods and the fire, and
one or two of the women were weeping; while over them all brooded an
atmosphere of expectation, of apprehension, of hope tempered by a sense
of impending peril and even of disaster.

The patch of light that marked the cave entrance had dwindled to the
gray of twilight, and then been lost in the opaqueness of night before
Grumgra, stalking out of the shadows with club portentously swinging,
bellowed the signal that sent scores of hearts beating pell-mell. He
looked unusually impressive this evening, with his circlet of wolf's
fangs fastened conspicuously about his head and his wolfskin robe
hideously black against his black form; and never had his people been
quicker to make way before him and to murmur obedience to his orders.

"Are all of us here?" he began, eying his followers not without
satisfaction. "Is every tribesman here?"

"I am here!" volunteered Woonoo the Hot-Blooded, striding forward
ostentatiously.

"I am here!" echoed Kori the Running Deer.

"I am here!" chorused Targ the Thick Club, Kuff the Bear-Hunter, and
Mumlo the Trail-Finder.

"Does anyone look for any tribesman, and not find him?" thundered
Grumgra, scowling his severest.

There was an interval of confusion, while each man turned to search
inquiringly among his neighbors. "Where is Karv the Leaping Stallion?"
"Where is Zuno the Wily Fox?" "Where is Ugwung the Wolf-Faced?" came
the voices of baffled seekers. But always, after an instant, there
would be a reply, perhaps from across the cave, "Here am I, Ugwung the
Wolf-Faced!" or, "Here he is, Zuno the Wily Fox!" And so, after some
minutes' delay, the roll was completely called, and it was found that
every man in the tribe was present--with only one exception.

"Where is Ru the Sparrow-Hearted?" shouted Grumgra, after the
whereabouts of all the others had been established.

But there came no reply.

"No one knows where Ru is," Zunzun at length reported, with a malicious
smile. "No one has seen him since two suns have set."

"Ru the Sparrow-Hearted does not act like a man!" grumbled the
chieftain. "Truly, he is like a sparrow! He runs away when we need him
most!"

"Ru runs away when we need him most!" echoed a score of angry voices.

"He will not be able to run away from my club!" growled Grumgra, half
under his breath. "He will not be able to run away from my club--when I
see him next!"

And the tribesmen turned to one another, and muttered, "Ru will not be
able to run away from Grumgra's club!" Whereat some tittered gleefully,
and from the lips of others came suppressed chuckles.

But their merriment was interrupted by the voice of Zunzun the
Marvel-Worker, who began solemnly to invoke the fire-god, entreating
victory for his kinsmen in the hazardous undertaking of the night. And
straightway the people forgot all about Ru and joined fervently in the
prayers, crying out their hopes and their terror in tones so loud that
the fire-god must certainly have heard.

Having duly summoned that powerful deity to their aid, the men began
to follow Grumgra in a slow, cautious procession toward the cave
entrance. All wielded their clubs as if to do instant execution upon
the foe; many muttered audibly their defiance of the beast-men. But as
that grim-faced, straggling band filed from the firelit cavern into
the outer darkness, the murmurings of the men were almost drowned out
by the lamentations of the women. "May the good spirits of the cave
be with you! May you eat out the hearts of the beast-men!" cried the
wives and mothers of the tribe; and many, flinging their arms about
the shoulders of the departing males, screamed and wailed as though
thus to detain the bold ones, until in the end their hands had to be
disengaged by sheer force and they were left to voice their sorrow to
their sorrowing sisters. At the same time some of the younger women,
more given to action than to words, seized clubs and quietly trailed in
the wake of the men.

It was a silent, crawling party of marauders that descended the face
of the cliff by the light of the half-moon. With snail-like patience
and slowness, the men and women moved through the night; with infinite
caution they crept from rock to rock, guided more by the sense of
feeling than of sight. Each warrior could dimly distinguish above him
the shadowy form of the next in line; each warrior could see below
him a warily retreating figure that sometimes lay flat against the
rocks, sometimes seemed to mingle with the vague ledge and to vanish,
and sometimes did vanish to reappear again around the windings of the
precipitous trail. Not a voice could be heard in that ghostly darkness,
though now and then the stillness was broken by a pebble which,
dislodged by chance, went plunging below with unearthly rattling and
clatter.

Down and down, on a common impulse that had no need of words, that
stealthy procession continued; down and down, with the alertness of
mountain-sheep and the caution of prowling cats. When at times they
paused and the apprehensive eyes wandered away from the rocks close at
hand, the vision of all was fastened upon a glowing red, wavering patch
beneath, from which the golden sparks darted and flashed....

At length, after a period impossible to compute, the first of the band
reached the flat, open space at the base of the cliff. And there,
without a word, he waited, while one by one his companions took their
places at his side. Many minutes went by, and each moment the party
silently grew, until scores of dim figures stood motionless in the
moonlight. But it was long before Grumgra, convinced that the last of
his followers had joined him, lifted his club in token of command, and,
still speechless, started along the river bank in the direction of the
crimson flames.

If the progress of the party had been by inches before, it was now
hardly by half-inches. Crouching low beside the river, the warriors
worked their way at a worm's rate among the rocks and through the
underbrush, cautious not to disturb a pebble or rustle a leaf. At the
distance of a dozen paces, one could have seen little more than a
succession of vague shapes drifting phantomlike through the darkness....

After a few minutes, the foremost of the raiders emerged from a clump
of bushes into a boulder-strewn open space. Directly across from him,
the red fires flashed and beamed, brighter and more vigorous than
before, with angry leaping tongues of flame that illuminated dimly the
ragged rim of the woods. With the exception of an occasional jutting
rock, there was no obstacle between. The men now stretched themselves
full-length upon the ground, and, still clutching their clubs, began
to creep with serpent-like contortions and convolutions toward the
intended prey. As they made their painfully slow progress, sometimes
dragging their hairy bodies through patches of mire and sometimes
tearing and scratching themselves on the sharp stones, they caught
occasional glimpses of a huge squat form indistinctly outlined against
the fire--a huge squat form brandishing a gigantic club and shuffling
slowly back and forth after the manner of a sentinel.

As yet, no other living thing was to be seen; but as the marauders
drew near, the sound of heavy breathing became audible, a stertorous
breathing that seemed to issue not from one source but from a hundred.
And the prowling ones realized that, strewn somewhere around the fire,
among the rocks and near the borders of the wood, their enemies lay in
unsuspecting sleep.

It was at about this time that one of the beast-men--he who had been
observed stalking like a sentry near the fire--seemed to become vaguely
aware of danger. He was not quite sure; but he ceased to shamble back
and forth and stood rooted in silence to one spot, his eyes fastened
intently before him. From among the confusion of shadows, he thought
he beheld one shadow that had not been there before--a creeping shadow
that glided slowly, slowly toward him. But when he paused to stare at
it, the shadow ceased to move--was it really there at all? or was it
but some fancy that the bad spirits of the woods had put into his mind?
Perhaps it was only the moonlight shedding a pale reflection on the
rocks; perhaps merely one of the boulders he had not observed before.
Minutes went by, and still nothing stirred--the world seemed empty
except for the wilderness of rocks, the faintly shining river, the
ragged line of the cliffs and the still more ragged line of the woods,
with the yellow half-moon poised in the emptiness above.

Yet to that lonely watcher came the thought that living shapes were
abroad in the darkness. The suspicious shadow had not ceased to
disturb him, although it was now still and innocent-looking enough.
At last, tentatively and with the caution of the prowling panther, he
began to glide forward, inch by inch, his club held defensively before
him. He had not more than five or six yards to cover, yet many slow
seconds dragged by while he crawled through the flickering gloom. Still
all lay unmoving and calm; the shadow had not stirred but lay before
him, dark and irregular in contour as any boulder.

Straining his eyes in a blackness that told him nothing, the sentry
suddenly reached out his club and prodded the doubtful shadow.
Simultaneously, a terrified scream started from his lips--the object
was soft and yielding before his touch!

As the startled beast-man leaped back, a huge form sprang up from
amid the shadows; and through the darkness a huge club swung. And the
beast-man's scream gave place to a moan, agonized and swiftly passing;
and the great shape slumped to earth, and stirred no more.

Then all at once the gloom was peopled. A hundred figures darted
forward, with long clubs swinging; and, at the same time, pandemonium
burst forth from the obscure depths behind the fire. A chorus of
screams, responsive to the screams of the stricken one, pierced the
stillness of the night; then came a tumult of voices crying out in
bewilderment, terror, and rage.

[Illustration: _The Umbaddu plunged to the attack_]

Blending with that tumult, and almost drowning it out, there sounded
the exultant shrieks and howls of the marauders. Hooting and wailing
in a din as of charging demons, the Umbaddu plunged to the attack.
Straight toward the camp-fire they rushed in a roaring mob, while
their clubs, wildly swinging, dashed out the brains of many a startled
foe. Then, fiendishly yelling with the joy of triumph, they started
pell-mell toward the shadows behind the fire, where the surging figures
were gathering in a turbulent swarm.

Now all was blurred amid the confusion of battle. One could have seen
little more than a jumble of tempestuously swaying forms; one could
have heard little more than an uproar as of fighting beasts. In that
deafening racket, one might have distinguished at times the crash of
club on club, at times the groans and whines of the wounded, the sighs
and moanings of the dying; one might have made out growls and snarls
of challenge, snortings of defiance, squeals and bawlings of terror,
bellowings and thunders of rage; but one could not have told whether
defenders or assailants clamored the louder, or which was defender and
which assailant amid that phantasmagoria of stormy, furiously swaying
shadows.

In darkness the battle was fought out--in darkness or semidarkness, for
the fire cast a weird, variable half-light upon the nearer contestants,
showing here two writhing figures clasped in a smothering grip, and
there two stooping forms confronting one another watchfully with lifted
clubs; while beyond, where even the half-light could not penetrate and
utter blackness began, the hissing and muttering and screeching and
shrieking of savage-voiced combatants gave proof of a contest that no
eye could see.

As the conflict proceeded, and the noise and confusion grew and grew,
the fire, untended, sank constantly lower and lower; the pale rim of
the light constantly narrowed; and the moon, sliding behind a cloud,
threatened to leave the scene in total gloom.

It was at about this point that the battle took a decisive turn. One
of the fighters, on an impulse that no one ever explained, snatched a
burning brand from the still-glowing fire; and wielding the flaming
weapon, went dashing headlong toward the enemy. All, both friend and
foe, gaped in terror and fled before this fire-swinging apparition; and
for a few minutes he darted unchallenged wherever he would, while at
his approach great shaggy forms went crashing right and left into the
brush. Then, when the brand had burned low, the bold one thrust the
still-flaming remains into the shrubbery, and went slouching away in
search of other weapons.

Without knowing it, he had made the end imminent. Through his unwitting
intervention, the culmination was to be sudden beyond all expectations.

Almost without warning, the darkness was overspread by an unearthly
yellow illumination; and a row of bushes along the river bank
burst into bright flame. The nearer fighters turned and gazed in
consternation, muttering to themselves and staring like men whom the
power of action has deserted. And while, stupidly bewildered, they
gaped and gaped, the fire leaped higher and higher, till it was taller
than a tall man, and the sparks flew like meteors, and glowing spirals
of smoke soared to the skies. Then, as the screams of battle gave place
to screams of terror, and fresh combatants forgot their clubs and
crowded close to see, the blazes spread and spread, till in places they
filled the cañon from the river to the cliff.

Encouraged by a rising breeze, they sprang from the shrubbery to the
overhanging branches of the pine trees, which began to burn and sparkle
gustily. And enormous flames, greater than any of the fighters had ever
seen before, began to roar and crackle among the trees. The bright
streamers leaped far heavenward, licking their greedy lips rabidly;
with amazing rapidity they grew, even vaulting across the river, until
from cañon wall to cañon wall there was a glaring, brassy-yellow,
wavering bank of fire, which cast an unearthly, sultry illumination
over the black knots of watching men. The air was filled with the acrid
odor of smoke; great black cinders darted through the gloom; and high
above the flames, where the red sparks vanished, all the heavens were
discolored with an angry crimson glow.

Now, above the sizzling laughter and the howling of the conflagration,
there arose the voices of men in mortal agony. All thought of the
fight had been forgotten; each was bent only on saving himself. Some,
trapped in pockets of the woods, shrieked and yelled in futile anguish
before they gasped their last; others, with hair shriveling beneath the
intense heat, cried out furiously and dashed for refuge into the river.
"The fire-god! The fire-god! The fire-god comes to kill us!" wailed the
panic-stricken Umbaddu; and mingled with their voices were the still
ruder, more blatant ones of the beast-men. But friend knew not friend,
and foe knew not foe, in that clamorous dash for the safe, cool waters.
Side by side the combatants crept into the stream, side by side without
so much as a hostile snort; and, once within the river, no man had
any thought except to stand submerged with nostrils barely above the
surface.

And while the survivors felt the refreshing waters roll over them, the
hissing and roaring of the fire gradually grew less distinct, its heat
a little less unbearable, its illumination dimmer and more remote. When
at last the less timorous ventured out of the river, they beheld that
same ghastly red glow reaching high in air and far along the horizon;
but they could no longer see the shooting tongues of flame, and they
knew that the fire-god had withdrawn and that it was safe to seek their
people once more.

       *       *       *       *       *

The following morning, in the cave of the Umbaddu, there was much
weeping and wailing. Distracted women paced back and forth with
prolonged sobs and lamentations; some tore furiously at the hair on
their arms and chests; some beat themselves insanely upon the legs
and thighs; some merely lay in a corner, moaning and moaning. As the
survivors of the night's encounter trailed one by one up the cliff
walls and back into the cave, it became apparent that the tribe's
losses had been irreparable. The misfortune was not that those who came
back were much bedraggled or disabled; that Kuff the Bear-Hunter limped
grievously, while Woonoo the Hot-Blooded dangled a broken arm; that the
throat and shoulders of Mumlo the Trail-Finder showed the red mark of
teeth, while half the hair of Grumgra's back had been singed away--such
injuries were of minor account. The real misfortune was that, of those
who had gone forth the night before, nearly half had not returned.
"Where is Targ the Thick Club? Where is Gurr the Stone-Flinger? Where
is Ulu the Long-Armed?" rang forth the despairing cries of searching
women--but none was ever to bring an answer to their appeals.

Most disturbing of all was the absence of one who had been thought
immune to danger. "Zunzun the Marvel-Worker--where is he?" cried scores
of anxious voices. But there came no reply; and the people groaned that
their gods had indeed deserted them, for all the arts of Zunzun had not
sufficed to save him from the beast-men.



                             CHAPTER XXIV

                      _The Wonder Stick Strikes_


While the battered remnants of the attacking force were reassembling
before the cave fire, one of the women made her way quietly out of a
wailing group of her sisters, and slipped unnoticed toward the inner
recesses of the cavern. In a moment she had been lost from view among
the shadows. Rounding a turn at the end of the main gallery, she
found herself in a blackness so absolute that her eyes could tell her
nothing and she had to rely absolutely upon her groping fingers. Yet
she took her way, not without assurance, even along the inky corridor,
and her pace, while not rapid, was far from snail-like. It was only a
few minutes before, passing another turn, she could make out a faint
grayish radiance ahead; and toward this she proceeded at increased
speed, while the light, although never approaching brightness, grew
constantly more distinct.

At length, in the vague twilight, she found herself passing a
side-grotto filled with an enormous pile of split and broken bones. At
the base of this gruesome mound, crunching one of the bones with noisy
gusto, crouched a half-grown wolf; but the creature did not deign to
give her so much as the greeting of a growl; and she continued around
still another turn, and entered an enormous chamber illumined by the
sunlight that shone in through a slit in the roof.

At one corner of this gallery, bent industriously above a mass of
broken and denuded tree branches, squatted the slim, short figure of a
man.

Disturbed by the sound of an intrusion, he looked up with a startled
expression.

"Yonyo!" he cried, springing to his feet with every evidence of joy.

"Ru!" she returned, and came to him, and let him fold his arms about
her.

"Why were you away so long?" he demanded, reproachfully, as he released
her. "The sun has gone down, and then gone down again, Yonyo, and the
spirits of darkness have twice taken the world, since you were here
before. And last night--it must have been in a dream--I thought I heard
terrible screams and howlings, as of beasts that fight. Why did you not
come to tell me what befell? There must have been evil winds abroad in
the dark."

"There were evil winds abroad," she assured him. "Our men all went down
to fight the beast-people. And the evil winds blew against us, and many
of our men were lost."

Surprised and dismayed, Ru stood staring resentfully at her. "Why did
you not tell me?" he burst forth. "Why did you not tell me, so that I
might go down with my brothers to fight the beast-men?"

But Yonyo merely shrugged in disdain. "I was not silly enough to tell
you. It would have done no good. Grumgra is very strong. He would
have killed you with his club before you could throw one stone at the
beast-man. You know how you have hidden here ever since Grumgra chased
you. If he learned where you are, you would not live to see the sun go
down again. I alone have found out where you are, for did I not follow
you after Grumgra gave up the chase, and did you not show me where you
were coming to live?"

"I showed only you, Smiling-Eyed! And I shall show only you until the
gods make me as strong as Grumgra!" vowed Ru, hopefully eying the mass
of leafless branches at which he had been working.

"Not even the gods can make you that strong!" sighed Yonyo.

But, disregarding her remark, Ru continued enthusiastically: "I can
live here now as long as I want. I need no one to help me. You remember
that at first, Yonyo, you brought me herbs and meat; but since then I
have found a way to creep into the light through a long dark trail that
leads out between two rocks. And so every day I go out, and Wuff goes
with me, and sometimes he catches little wood creatures, but always I
get many roots and nuts. And also"--here he hesitated, then continued
with emphasis--"I get that which may yet make me stronger than Grumgra!"

The Smiling-Eyed looked at him uncomprehendingly, and he hastily
proceeded: "Have you forgotten, Yonyo, that once, long, long ago, in
our old cave, I told you of a weapon that would strike like lightning
and kill at a distance?"

"I have not forgotten," she replied, without enthusiasm; but in her
manner there was no trace of her former mockery.

"The gods have shown me how to make that weapon!" he announced. "They
have shown me how to make it stronger than any club. Soon I will kill
all the beast-men--and none will dare to come near when I am angry!"

Observing that she still eyed him questioningly, he pointed to some
strips of hide and bits of flint that lay on the ground beside the
denuded branches, and continued with assurance: "I did not use to know
how to make that weapon--but now I have learned, I have learned! See,
Yonyo, I will show you!"

And while Yonyo stood staring at him curiously, Ru picked up a long,
straight shaft of wood, fastened a narrow strip of hide through a hole
at one end, bent it with great difficulty, and strained and struggled
to fasten the strip of hide through a hole at the other end.

"Look how tight it is, Yonyo," he explained, holding it out for her to
feel. "At first I tried to use the stems of plants, but they were not
strong enough and always broke. And so I thought of using this strip of
animal's skin. I cut it with a piece of flint from my robe. It was hard
to make the holes in the wood, but I have a very sharp flint borer--"

"But what is the use of it all?" interrupted Yonyo. "I do not see..."

"Here, I will show you," volunteered Ru. And he took up a second and
shorter shaft of wood, one end of which was conspicuously dented. This
end he applied to the center of the taut strip of hide, straining till
his breath came hard and his eyes began to bulge out of his head. The
bow bent forward many inches; it seemed that either it or the strip of
hide would break. Meanwhile Yonyo gaped dumfounded, as if wondering
what mad spirits had entered Ru's head.

Suddenly the bow snapped back with such force that Ru almost lost his
balance; there came a whizzing sound--and the dented shaft of wood was
to be seen no longer.

"Where did it go?" asked the Smiling-Eyed, more bewildered than ever.

"Let us see. I think we can find it," suggested Ru. And, followed by
Yonyo, he started slowly into the shadows, inspecting the ground with
painstaking care.

"Here it is!" Yonyo at length exclaimed, gleefully picking up the shaft
of wood some twenty or thirty yards from its starting point.

"See! I told you I could make a weapon that would strike at a
distance!" Ru reminded her triumphantly, while Yonyo, now completely
convinced, had no more to say. "I cannot make it strike far enough yet,
but the gods will show me that. And they will show me how to make the
stick sharp and terrible, so that it will kill a man! Then we need not
fear the beast-men any more!"

"Ru the Sparrow-Hearted will be stronger yet than Grumgra!" prophesied
Yonyo, looking up at him with an admiring smile.

"Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed will make him strong," acknowledged Ru. And,
coming close, he began to murmur gentle-sounding words that had no
relation to the fashioning of bows and arrows.

But with a commanding gesture she repelled him. "No, Ru, you must not
say pretty things now," she remonstrated. "First you must finish your
wonder stick. We need that very, very soon. Then you can talk of softer
things. But not before!"

And, despite all his protests, she started back into the dim recesses
of the cavern. "When the sun has gone down and come up once more," she
promised, "I will be here again." With these words for farewell, she
was lost amid the shadows.

Returning to her people, she found that her absence had not been
observed. The women were still wailing and lamenting; the wounded
warriors were muttering and groaning querulously. Mingled with the
oaths and curses of the men and the sobs and sighs of her sisters, she
could hear occasional frightened murmurings about the beast-men. But
no one paid any heed to her inquiries, or even seemed able to answer.
Consequently, she was soon on her way to the cave entrance, to observe
the latest happenings for herself.

It was with difficulty that she crowded her way onto the narrow terrace
that fronted the cave, for dozens had preceded her, gaping speechlessly
at the scene beneath. And how amazingly that scene had changed! Where
yesterday there had been thick clusters of bushes and long stretches
of woods, there was now a blackened waste, with here and there a pile
of brush feebly smoking, here and there the charred and dismantled
trunk of a tree standing as a lonely sign-post of ruin. Down-stream, as
far as one could see, there was only desolation and ashes; up-stream,
however, a chance turn in the wind had spared the woods--and the
contrast between the still green expanses and the flame-swept desert
was ghastly beyond all words.

But the destruction of the forest was not what disturbed the watching
people. That which alarmed them was that the fire had not rid them of
their foe. Many of the beast-men must have been slain, for did not
every returned warrior boast of killing his scores? Yet, to judge from
the throng that collected by the river bank, one would have thought
that the dead had all come to life again. Swarming up-stream from the
devastated areas to the fringe of the remaining woods, the beast-men
had made camp serenely beneath the very eyes of their rivals, although
well beyond range of stones.

It was a doleful tale that Yonyo brought Ru on the following morning.
"The beast-men will not go away," she reported. "We pray and pray to
the fire-god and the gods of the woods, but our foes will not go away.
And so none of us can leave the cave now, for fear of the beast-men's
clubs. We cannot go down to fight them any more, for many of our men
have been lost, and the bad spirits have hurt the others so that they
cannot swing a club. And so what shall we do, Ru? What shall we do?
Our meat gets less and less, and we cannot go out to hunt for more.
Soon there will be none left, and no berries any more, nor even any
roots or nuts; and the women will cry out, and the men will grumble and
complain, and the babes will die. Soon, soon after that, we shall all
die!"

"No! We will not die!" denied Ru, fiercely. "We will not die! The
cave-god will not let us!"

Then, snatching several slender shafts of wood from the ground, he
thrust them before her eyes. "See, Yonyo! See! Our enemies will be the
ones that die! These sticks will kill a man!"

Yonyo, astonished, observed that the sticks were tipped with little
pointed bits of flint.

"How did you do that, Ru?" she gasped.

"At first I did not know how," explained Ru. "I tried to make the flint
stay on the stick, but it would not stay. Then I split one of the
sticks at the end without meaning to; and I found that I could push the
rock in, and keep it there. And so I have split the other sticks with
my cleaver, and filled them all with flint. If one of them strikes a
man, it will be mightier than Grumgra's club."

"But can you make them hit hard enough?" inquired Yonyo.

"They can hit very hard." And Ru, picking up his bow, sent the arrow
with a sharp thud against the cave wall.

Whereupon, in the sheer exuberance of her joy, Yonyo leaped up and down
and shouted. "You will save us all yet! You will save us all! Your
wonder stick will kill the beast-men!"

"All day I have worked to make the strip of hide tighter," Ru confided,
after Yonyo's wild outburst had died down. "I do not know whether it is
tight enough yet, but it is very tight." He held forth the bow as if
to examine it, and dangled the end of an arrow playfully against the
bowstring.

But suddenly his playful mood gave way to one of intense alertness.

"What is that?" he gasped. "What is that--" Without warning, the hoarse
growling voice of Wuff had sounded from around a bend in the gallery;
then a series of angry snarls, as though Wuff were at bay before some
foe. And, mingled with the mutterings of the wolf, came the familiar
grumbling of a heavy voice.

"Grumgra!" Ru murmured. And before he and the startled Yonyo had had
time to turn and flee, a huge familiar figure shuffled into view,
monstrous against the dark cave wall; and through the shadows a great
club swung threateningly.

For a moment there was silence--a silence of paralyzing terror on the
part of Ru and Yonyo--a silence of evil triumph on the part of Grumgra.

"So you thought to escape me!" the chieftain at length bawled, in tones
of malicious relish. "You, Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed, thought to escape me
to go to him--to him, the Sparrow-Hearted! But you are not wise enough
for me. I watched you--and I followed! And now you cannot get away! I
will take you! You belong to me!"

Leering at Yonyo with eyes that shone bestially in the half-light,
Grumgra lifted his club yet a little higher, and took a step forward.
But he was halted by an unexpected voice.

"She does not belong to you! You shall not take her!" challenged Ru,
with a boldness that startled even himself.

"Does the Sparrow-Hearted then tell me what is mine to take?" bellowed
Grumgra; and the echoes of his wrath sounded weirdly through that dim,
vaulted chamber.

Then, striding forward still another step, he thundered:
"Sparrow-Hearted, you and I have a fight to finish! Let us finish it
now! After that, I will take the Smiling-Eyed!"

The club was lifted to its full height above Grumgra's head; a snort
of defiance came from the lips of the chieftain, mingling with the
shrill scream of Yonyo. Ru, with limbs trembling, pressed back against
the cave wall; he clutched his bow hopelessly, without thought for
its usefulness; all power of action seemed to have deserted him as he
cowered against the rock, waiting for the end....

Then came an instant's precious respite. Wuff, who had been skulking
among the shadows to the rear, sprang with a snarl toward Grumgra.
Grumgra, wheeling about, swung his club not at his human foe but at the
beast. He missed by less than an inch. Frightened by the crash of the
descending cudgel, Wuff went scurrying out of reach as if at the sound
of an explosion; while Grumgra turned once more to the chastisement of
Ru.

But in that swift interval something had happened to the imperiled
man. His quivering limbs had ceased to quiver; his fingers had taken
a steadier grip on the bow; he had remembered how deadly was the
weapon in his hands. Quickly, fiercely, and with something of a savage
delight, he pressed the arrow to the bowstring, forced it far back with
a vehement bending and straining of the heavy shaft, and then--for the
desperate fraction of a second--waited.

Grumgra, gloating in the rout of Wuff, halted for an incalculably
brief period to see Ru confronting him with a pointed stick. But he
took little note of this queer device; striding forward with a roar of
triumph, he lifted his club for the devastating stroke.

That stroke was never taken. As the club prepared to descend, something
smote Grumgra furiously in the chest. Suddenly all things went black
before him; he stopped short, dropped his club, staggered, and clutched
with both hands at a long stick projecting from above his heart. The
blood spouted in a torrent down his side, his black hair was matted
with red, his eyes rolled and twisted crazily, a ferocious howl issued
from his lips; then, almost instantly, he reeled, pitched forward, and
plunged heavily on to the cavern rocks.



                              CHAPTER XXV

                         _The Ascension of Ru_


As the huge form of the chieftain crashed to earth, Ru leaped warily
to the farther side of the cave, half expecting Grumgra to rise and
return to the attack. But Grumgra did not rise; the great sprawled
shape lay stiff and motionless where it had fallen. And as the terrible
slow seconds dragged by, there came to the two watchers an appalling
realization of what had happened.

"He is dead!" muttered Ru, under his breath.

With spylike caution, he stole over to the prostrate figure, and
prodded it with the tip of an arrow. Still Grumgra did not stir. Nor
did he make response when Wuff, waxing bold again, came sniffing near
with low, contented growls. A slow stream of blood was trickling from
beneath his outstretched body--but there was no sign of life.

"He is dead!" Yonyo repeated after Ru, in incredulous tones. And, like
one walking in a dream, she slipped across the cave to the smitten
chieftain, stood hesitating an instant, then reached down her hand, and
timidly touched the shaggy form.

As she did so, a piercing scream burst from her lips. "He is dead,
dead!" she cried, as though the knowledge had now come to her for the
first time. "Grumgra is dead! The Growling Wolf is dead!"

Then something like an hysterical sobbing racked her frame. "The
Growling Wolf is dead, is dead!" she kept repeating, in tones of
passionate relief, as if only repetition could lend truth to the
incredible words. "Ru has killed the Growling Wolf!"

And, like one in need of every assurance her senses could give her, she
reached down once more to touch the lifeless shape. Newly convinced,
she seemed filled with a sudden fresh energy. Before Ru could stop her
or even understand what she was about, she had gone dashing around the
turn in the gallery and through the dark passageway toward the cave
entrance.

"My people! My people!" her maddened voice shrilled. "Ru has killed
Grumgra! Ru has killed Grumgra!" And again and again her words rang
out, fainter and fainter as she recklessly retreated; again and again,
and fainter and fainter still, until the cries came back thin and eery
amid a chorus of echoes: "Ru has killed Grumgra! He has killed the
Growling Wolf, has killed the Growling Wolf!"

After the sound of her calling had died away, Ru stood regarding the
corpse of his foe with the startled air of one who has just seen a tree
blasted by lightning. "I do not know how I did it. I do not know how,"
he kept muttering to himself. Reaching down and prodding the body of
the fallen leader, he mumbled over and over again: "He is dead! He is
dead! He will never strike me now! He will never take Yonyo!"

Then, as by degrees his bewilderment cleared away, there rose in his
heart a great joy, a pride in what he had done, mingled with a contempt
for the stricken man.

"Grumgra, you were not so strong, after all!" he murmured. "You were
not so strong, O Growling Wolf!"

To lend his words emphasis, he picked up Grumgra's club, and violently
pounded the unresponsive mass of flesh and bones that had been the
chieftain.

Having thus expressed his feelings, he began to pace gleefully about
the cavern, gripping the club--though it was far too heavy for him to
swing with ease--and repeating to himself: "I am Grumgra now! I am
Grumgra!"

It was while he was thus occupied that his attention was caught by a
din of excited voices, a confused din borne to him far down the dark
galleries. Not at all apprehensive, he paused to listen; rapidly that
tumult of voices grew louder, until he thought he could recognize the
shrill tones of Yonyo. A moment passed; then Yonyo herself, still
wildly agitated, came dashing into view, with a shouting rabble at her
heels.

"See! There he is!" she exclaimed, jubilantly. "There he is! I told
you! I told you, and you would not believe me! See! Ru has killed
Grumgra!"

And triumphantly she pointed to the lifeless body of the chieftain.

"Ru has killed Grumgra!" echoed the awestricken people. And, howling
and gibbering, the dusky scores pressed close to view. Directly before
the body of the slain one they paused, staring and gaping in horror;
then, almost instantly, their amazement and dismay were drowned out by
a low ripple of delight. And the uproar of the people was like that of
a band of children at some incredible show. Some, to assure themselves
that the chieftain was really dead, poked sharp sticks into his neck
and back; others gently kicked or pummeled him or pulled at his hair;
one, bolder than the rest, lifted the huge form onto its side, until a
broken, bloody shaft was observed projecting from between the ribs.

"Ru the Sparrow-Hearted has killed Grumgra! Ru the Sparrow-Hearted has
killed Grumgra!" Yonyo kept repeating, as though she could never tire
of announcing the marvelous news.

"Ru the Eagle-Hearted!" corrected the slayer.

"Ru the Eagle-Hearted!" the people duly acknowledged, staring at him
with a reverential wonder.

"How did Ru the Eagle-Hearted kill Grumgra? How did he kill Grumgra?"
came a clamor of inquiries, once the people were convinced of the
glorious truth. "He is not a big man! But Grumgra was so strong he
could choke a wolf to death!"

"Ru killed Grumgra with his wonder stick!" announced Yonyo, eager to
plead the cause of her hero. "He made the stick himself--the gods
showed him how. It is stronger than a big club--and Ru can throw it so
hard it will hit like lightning."

"He can throw it so hard it will hit like lightning!" repeated the
thunderstruck people in chorus, while they began to edge fearfully away
from Ru.

"Grumgra was going to kill him, but Ru was not afraid," Yonyo
explained, enthusiastically. "He would not be afraid of a whole caveful
of Grumgras. He just took his wonder stick, and threw it hard at
Grumgra. And Grumgra fell down--and he was dead!"

"Grumgra fell down--and he was dead!" echoed the mob, unable to find
any other words to voice their amazement.

"See how I use my wonder stick!" illustrated Ru. And before anyone
realized what he intended, he had slipped an arrow into his bow and
sent it crashing against the cave wall.

"The wonder stick is bewitched!" cried one of the people, aghast at
this exhibition. And tremblingly he flung himself down before Ru. "O
Eagle-Hearted," he begged, "do not hit me with your wonder stick!"

As though on an electrical impulse, the others all followed his
example. "O Eagle-Hearted, do not hit us with your wonder stick!"
sobbed and resounded through the cavern in a piteous chorus, while
scores of shadowy figures groveled before Ru.

"I will not hit you with my wonder stick!" promised the Eagle-Hearted.
"Only those who do bad things will be hit by the stick--as Grumgra has
been hit. The others will be spared."

But seeing that the people continued to grovel on the cave floor with
mumbled entreaties, Ru hastened to add: "The gods did not give me the
wonder stick to use against my own tribe--not unless my tribe does evil
things. The gods gave me the wonder stick to drive away the beast-men.
The wonder stick will kill them all!"

"The wonder stick will kill them all!" chorused the marveling people.

Then, observing the reassuring smile in Ru's face, they rose one by one
to their feet, while murmuring hopefully: "The Eagle-Hearted will kill
the beast-men! He will save us from our foes!"

       *       *       *       *       *

Five or six hours later, the body of the chieftain was borne to its
final rest. In a dark, secluded corner of the cave, not many yards from
the scene of the fatal encounter, a little hollow had been hastily
scooped out with flint shovels and cleavers; and hither Grumgra's
bulky frame was carried on the shoulders of three tribesmen. At his
side, according to the age-old custom of the Umbaddu, his club was
conveniently placed, along with a variety of flint implements and a
handful of fruits and nuts; while his wolfskin robe was wrapped about
him, and the circlet of wolf's fangs fastened about his head. Then,
convinced that their chieftain would be equipped with everything
necessary when the great wind-spirit came to take him away, the people
began to pile earth and stones high above the recumbent form.

Owing to the absence of Zunzun the Marvel-Worker, there was none
to lead in the prayers; yet a multitude of voices began to pray
simultaneously in a babbling confusion, and each in his own way invoked
the gods of the cave, the fire, and the air. Loud and ever louder they
clamored, each striving to drown out the voice of his neighbor, until
the uproar became like a tumult of madmen. But clearly over all, in a
wailing crescendo before which the other voices stopped as if abashed,
there rang forth the sobs and lamentations of a woman. And more
than one man turned to his companions, and murmured: "It is Mog the
Long-Faced! It is Grumgra's first woman!"

Long and bitterly Mog cried out, while beating furiously with her fists
against the rocks that were piling up upon the chieftain's vanishing
form.

And while she screamed and wept, and the familiar, dreaded figure
disappeared beneath the heap of stones, a tardy regret seemed to awaken
in the minds of the people. It was as if they now realized for the
first time that Grumgra was no longer with them--and as if they found
the thought too terrible to endure. "What are we to do now?" they
moaned, after the sobs of Mog had begun to die down and they had caught
their last glimpse of the black hair of the slain one. "What are we to
do now? Who is to be our leader? Who is to tell us what to do? Who is
to say when we shall go out on the hunt, and how we shall build our
fires, and how we shall share our food? Who is to watch over us and
care for us in Grumgra's place? Who? Who? Who?"

"Who but Ru the Eagle-Hearted?" came the eager voice of Yonyo. "Who
but him with his wonder stick?"

"Ru the Eagle-Hearted will watch over us!" cried a chorus of voices,
responsive to the suggestion. "He will be our leader! He will guide us
with his wonder stick!"

And since there was no one to venture a word in dissent, Grumgra's
successor had apparently been chosen.

It was not long before Ru commenced to exercise the powers of his
newly won office. The last stone was barely in place on the grave of
Grumgra when he began to assert himself. Striding to the center of
the gathering while his people withdrew awestricken before him, he
proclaimed: "The Growling Wolf is dead now--so let us forget him. We
have a great and terrible work to do! We must make ready to fight the
beast-men!"

Here he paused a second, while regarding his tribesmen speculatively.
In a moment his eyes fell with a twinkle upon a certain two, and he
continued: "Before we go down to drive the beast-men away, we must
be sure they cannot come up here to fight us in our cave. Kuff the
Bear-Hunter and Woonoo the Hot-Blooded, you go out on the rock in front
of the cave and watch to see that the beast-men do not come. And stay
there till I tell you to come in."

Kuff the Bear-Hunter and Woonoo the Hot-Blooded muttered, but did not
move.

"Go!" commanded Ru, starting with an imperious gesture toward his
former rivals. And menacingly he lifted his bow. "Shall I hit you with
my wonder stick?"

"No! No!" protested Kuff and Woonoo, shrinking back as far as the walls
would permit. But Ru still strode toward them threateningly; and in
another moment they had swung about and fled toward the cave entrance.

"Bru the Scowling-Faced, go and see that they do as I told them!" Ru
ordered.

As Bru sullenly left, Ru turned to his people, and announced: "I have
only one wonder stick now, but the gods will show me how to make more.
First I must say some prayers before the gods, and none of you must
listen, for the gods would grow angry and strike you down. But after I
have made the wonder sticks, I will show you how to use them, so that
you may help me kill the beast-men. Who would like to help?"

For a moment Ru waited. Each man eyed his neighbors fearfully, but no
one replied.

"The gods will not let you all help," Ru stated, as though taking their
willingness for granted. "Zuno the Wily Fox, you may help; and Kori the
Running Deer; and Blab the Big Voice--" And Ru continued until he had
named ten of the ablest and most easily managed of his tribesmen.

Several did, indeed, mutter audibly in protest, and one or two even
ventured a gesture of defiance; but those who had not been named
prodded on the chosen ones; and a few threatening motions with the
flint-headed arrows sufficed to silence even the most fractious.



                             CHAPTER XXVI

                        _Ru the Eagle-Hearted_


Ru's ascension to leadership was followed by six or eight days of
intensive activity, during which the cave buzzed with excitement.

First of all, Ru solved the food problem by showing the people the
secluded cave entrance which he had found; and through this, unobserved
by the beast-men, they passed daily into the woods, returning always
with roots and nuts enough to ward off immediate starvation. Meanwhile
Ru labored assiduously at the construction of bows and arrows, which he
made in an isolated little nook of the cavern, while Yonyo kept watch
to see that no tribesman approached. And several hours each day he
devoted to training the chosen ten in the use of the "wonder stick."
He found not only that he had eager and imitative and hence capable
pupils, but that his own skill vastly improved with practice, so that
he was soon able to direct an arrow with accuracy to almost any desired
spot. This art his followers, likewise, were not slow in acquiring, and
he knew that the time for the encounter with the beast-men could not be
far off.

The interval between the burial of Grumgra and the battle of the
"wonder stick" was marked by two important events. To begin with, there
was the disappearance of Wuff. The young wolf, who had been growing
manifestly restive of late and at times distinctly ill-tempered even
toward his master, at last found the summons of his kind to be stronger
than the appeal of human companionship. Standing with Ru one evening
near the rear cave entrance, he started forward with sudden alertness
and with wildly gleaming eyes as a long-drawn, doleful call sounded
from far away out of the twilight. The next moment he had answered that
call in high-pitched notes of his own--and then suddenly he vanished.
Ru waited for a while, whistling softly to the animal, but Wuff did not
come back; nor did he come back on the next day, nor on the day that
followed. And Ru sighed regretfully, and realized that he had lost a
friend.

The second event was of a more personal nature. It concerned his
courtship of Yonyo--and its successful culmination. Standing proudly
before the tribe in Grumgra's old place beside the fire, he announced
one evening: "Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed is my woman. Is it not so, Yonyo?"

Yonyo came sedately forward, and admitted that it was so--and there was
no one who had anything more to say, although Woonoo the Hot-Blooded
and Kuff the Bear-Hunter did scowl furiously and mutter angrily under
their breath. Ru, however, did not heed them, but proceeded forthwith
to perform a little ceremony which the tradition of the tribe made
necessary. Taking a sharp bit of flint, he cut a sudden gash in Yonyo's
left arm; then, while the blood gushed forth and she bit her lip to
keep back a groan, he made a similar wound in his own arm, muttered a
prayer to the god of the cave, and let a drop of his blood flow into
the released blood of Yonyo and mingle with it. And thus was their
marriage solemnized.

Then, with Yonyo's hand tucked in one of his hands and his club gripped
in the other, he led his bride away with him into their secret nook
among the shadows.

After they had disappeared, an excited chattering burst forth among the
tribespeople, for never had so quiet a wedding been known before. The
older and more experienced folk predicted that not many days would pass
before Ru would be beating Yonyo with his club and taking another woman.

But soon they forgot all about Ru's marriage in contemplation of a more
momentous event.

Curious throngs would gather daily to watch their chieftain and his
chosen ten at practice with the "wonder stick"--and an atmosphere of
dread anticipation filled the cavern, gradually rising to a pitch
of apprehension that compelled prayers from the lips of the more
fearful-minded and put the others in a constant state of shuddering
excitement. For the people realized that the "wonder stick" was to be
the ultimate test not only of Ru's power but of the tribe's chances for
very life.

Ru himself understood this fact not less clearly than any of the
others. He knew that the failure or success of the weapon would decide
his own future and that of his people; and he looked forward to the
approaching conflict with something of the sensations of a general who
knows that a single defeat will mean disaster, a single victory win him
an eternal crown.

Recognizing how much was at stake, he planned his campaign with the
most careful forethought. When at length the chosen day arrived, he
led his ten followers down the cliff in the early dawn, when the
first tinge of gray was barely beginning to touch the cliffs. All had
been carefully trained in the use of the "wonder stick"; and each
man carried one of the weapons and eight or ten flint-tipped arrows.
Confidently they stole from the cave, while the other men stood by in a
glowering silence and the women poured forth encouragement, advice, and
tears; stealthily and without a sound, each a shadow against the dark
rocks, they made their precarious way along the ledges and to the base
of the precipice.

Having reached the floor of the cañon, they crept forward a few dozen
yards with Ru at their head; then, following orders which had been
drilled into their heads beforehand, each concealed himself behind a
boulder. And, until the daylight shone full upon them, not a sound nor
a motion came from any of that watching band.

The beast-men meanwhile were unaware of their presence. The invaders
could see the hideous black forms swarming about the brink of the
river, could see them dipping into the water with hoarse gibbering
and hissing laughter; they could watch some sucking in long thirsty
draughts, some chewing greedily at great bones, some casting logs into
the blazing fire, and some snarling and quarreling like embattled dogs.

Suddenly, leaping up from behind his rock with waving arms, Ru let
forth a shrill and blood-curdling scream, the battle-cry of his
tribe--"Oo-ow, oo-ow, oo-ow!" And at the same time his followers darted
into the open, brandishing their bows high in air and joining in Ru's
ferocious howl. And the watchers on the cliff above took up the call,
so that it seemed like the roaring of a multitude.

The beast-men, startled, ceased their screeching and jabbering, and
stared as if thunderstruck at their unexpected foes. For a moment they
seemed unable to utter a sound; then confused low cries of surprise and
fear broke from their lips.

Headed by Ru, the assailants were meanwhile striding forward. And
the hairy, growling throng, unorganized and terror-smitten, appeared
uncertain whether to charge and overwhelm the intruders or dash for
safety to the woods.

But when Ru and his followers were within a hundred yards of the
nearest beast-man, a tall befeathered individual stalked forth from the
crowd, beating his chest and growling pugnaciously. In his enormous
right hand was a club nearly as tall as himself; above his thick
eyebrow ridge was a ghastly painted streak of red; his teeth, chiseled
to a point and stained black, gaped like the fangs of some gruesome
monster. At his side, encouraged by his boldness, shambled a dozen of
his fellows, their forms gigantic and stooping, their evil little eyes
staring out from thickets of black hair. All snarled and angrily swung
their clubs, while behind them their people pressed, gibbering at a
distance, as if expecting Ru's tiny band to turn and flee.

But they did not turn and flee. Some, indeed, did tremble and draw back
a pace; but there came the reassuring, commanding voice of Ru: "Now,
now is the time!" And instead of taking flight, they hastily adjusted
the arrows to their bows.

Still the feathered one stalked onward, side by side with his mighty
companions. The space between them and Ru had been cut in half; in
another instant the invaders would feel the touch of their clubs.

"Now, now is the time!" repeated Ru. And the bows were drawn back by
powerful hands, then furiously recoiled. There came a sudden whizzing
sound--and an amazing thing befell.

Howling with agony, two of the beast-men stopped short, clutched at
long sticks protruding from their chests, staggered, and fell to earth
while the blood spouted from new-made wounds.

Their fellows, startled and aghast, halted and turned with bewildered
cries to the smitten ones. But even while they gaped and hesitated,
there came another whizzing sound, and one of the men screamed, dropped
his club, and wildly clutched a crimson wrist; while another, reeling
as the blood burst from the split arteries of his neck, gave out a
series of horrible gasps and gurgles, and toppled helplessly to earth.

Again came the battle-cry of the Umbaddu--"Oo-ow, oo-ow, oo-ow!"--taken
up by the watchers on the cliff, and repeated in a long-drawn, furious
chorus.

And while the uninjured beast-men, rooted to the spot by terror, gaped
stupidly at their foes, they heard once more that mysterious whizzing
sound--and still another of their number shrieked with pain, and fell
to earth with a long reddened stick protruding from between his ribs.
And this time the stricken one was the feathered giant!

A low moan of horror and dismay sounded from the watching ranks of
beast-men. And rising to a deep-toned dreary monody, it seemed like the
mourning of a multitude.

Simultaneously, louder and more insistent than before, there rang forth
that terrorizing battle-cry, "Oo-ow, oo-ow, oo-ow, oo-ow, oo-ow!"

Then came another ominous whizzing, and another beast-man fell with a
scream. And brandishing his bow high above his head, Ru started forward
with a great leap; while after him dashed his followers in a yelling
band.

The beast-men screeched with terror. Those nearest the charging squad
dropped their clubs, wheeled about, and dashed pell-mell toward their
frightened fellows.

It was as though they had touched a spark to dry straw. The flight
turned into a panic; in all directions the beast-men began to scamper,
howling and bellowing with fear, tumbling over one another in mad haste
to escape, scattering and running like stampeding sheep. Into the
concealment of the woods they vanished, men, women, and children in an
insane mob, until in a moment the last of them had been lost to view.

And Ru, following with hoots and screams of triumph, knew that the
battle had been won. The beast-men would not return; the "wonder stick"
had made the new cave secure for his people....

High above him, from the throng on the cliff, there still sounded that
tremulous, victorious chorus, "Oo-ow, oo-ow, oo-ow, oo-ow, oo-ow,
oo-ow...."



                              CONCLUSION


For many generations the legends of the Umbaddu told of the deeds of Ru
the Eagle-Hearted. From father to son, and from father to son, and then
again from father to son, passed the stories of the great chieftain
who had brought his tribe to the warm lands and the cave above the
river, and who had driven out the beast-men and given his people the
"wonder stick." It was known how he had twice died and come back to the
world; how he had made friends of the wind-spirit and the spirit of
the waters; how he had tamed even the wild creatures, so that a great
wolf, whom none other dare approach, would come out of the woods to
lick his hands. And it was said that he had led his tribe through many
bold hunts and many brave wars; and that always at his side walked his
woman, Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed.

Mothers, whispering by the light of the cave fire when winter nights
were long, would counsel their half-grown lads to try to be like Ru;
fathers would murmur how tall he was of limb, how firm of arm, how
noted for his courage from his childhood days.... Thus the years and
the centuries went by, while the Umbaddu tribe throve and multiplied,
and sent out its children to occupy caves near at hand and then caves
many days' travel away.... And as the waves of migration spread, and
the people wandered into strange hills and woods, and sowed the seeds
of that which was one day to transform the world, they bore with them
always one prized and reverenced name, the name of him who was not as
other men but was kin to the spirits of the air and the fire--the name
of Ru the Eagle-Hearted.


                                THE END




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