[Illustration: GREAT TRUNK SHOT DOWNWARD AND BACKWARD PICKED UP THE MANAND HURLED HIM YARDS AWAY]

 THE STORY OF AB

 A TALE OF THE TIME OF THE CAVE MAN

 BY

 STANLEY WATERLOO

 1905

 Author of "A Man and a Woman, " "An Odd Situation, " etc. 

INTRODUCTION. 

This is the story of Ab, a man of the Age of Stone, who lived so long agothat we cannot closely fix the date, and who loved and fought well. 

In his work the author has been cordially assisted by some of the ablestsearchers of two continents into the life history of prehistoric times. With characteristic helpfulness and interest, these already burdenedstudents have aided and encouraged him, and to them he desires to expresshis sense of profound obligation and his earnest thanks. 

Once only does the writer depart from accepted theories of scientificresearch. After an at least long-continued study of existing evidence andinformation relating to the Stone Ages, the conviction grew upon him thatthe mysterious gap supposed by scientific teachers to divide Paleolithicfrom Neolithic man never really existed. No convulsion of nature, no newrace of human beings is needed to explain the difference between therelics of Paleolithic and Neolithic strugglers. Growth, experiment, adaptation, discovery, inevitable in man, sufficiently account for allthe relatively swift changes from one form of primitive life to anothermore advanced, from the time of chipped to that of polished implements. Man has been, from the beginning, under the never resting, neverhastening, forces of evolution. The earth from which he sprang holds therecord of his transformations in her peat-beds, her buried caverns andher rocky fastnesses. The eternal laws change man, but they themselves donot change. 

Ab and Lightfoot and others of the cave people whose story is told in thetale which follows the author cannot disown. He has shown them as theywere. Hungry and cold, they slew the fierce beasts which were scarcelymore savage than they, and were fed and clothed by their flesh and fur. In the caves of the earth the cave men and their families were safelysheltered. Theirs were the elemental wants and passions. They wereswayed by love, in some form at least, by jealousy, fear, revenge, and bythe memory of benefits and wrongs. They cherished their young; theyfought desperately with the beasts of their time, and with each other, and, when their brief, turbulent lives were ended, they passed intosilence, but not into oblivion. The old Earth carefully preserved theirstory, so that we, their children, may read it now. 

S. W. 

CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER. 

I. THE BABE IN THE WOODS. 

II. MAN AND HYENA. 

III. A FAMILY DINNER. 

IV. AB AND OAK. 

V. A GREAT ENTERPRISE. 

VI. A DANGEROUS VISITOR. 

VII. THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. 

VIII. SABRE-TOOTH AND RHINOCEROS. 

IX. DOMESTIC MATTERS. 

X. OLD MOK, THE MENTOR. 

XI. DOINGS AT HOME. 

XII. OLD MOK'S TALES. 

XIII. AB'S GREAT DISCOVERY. 

XIV. A LESSON IN SWIMMING. 

XV. A MAMMOTH AT BAY. 

XVI. THE FEAST OF THE MAMMOTH. 

XVII. THE COMRADES. 

XVIII. LOVE AND DEATH. 

XIX. A RACE WITH DREAD. 

XX. THE FIRE COUNTRY. 

XXI. THE WOOING OF LIGHTFOOT. 

XXII. THE HONEYMOON. 

XXIII. MORE OF THE HONEYMOON. 

XXIV. THE FIRE COUNTRY AGAIN. 

XXV. A GREAT STEP FORWARD. 

XXVI. FACING THE RAIDER. 

XXVII. LITTLE MOK. 

XXVIII. THE BATTLE OF THE BARRIERS. 

XXIX. OLD HILLTOP'S LAST STRUGGLE. 

XXX. OUR VERY GREAT GRANDFATHER. 

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

BY SIMON HARMON VEDDER

"HIS GREAT TRUNK SHOT DOWNWARD AND BACKWARD, PICKED UP THE MAN, ANDHURLED HIM YARDS AWAY"

MAP

"AB SEIZED UPON TWO OF THE SNARLING CUBS, AND OAK DID THE SAME"

"AB SPRANG TO HIS FEET, AND DREW HIS ARROW TO THE HEAD"

"THE YOUNG MEN CALLED TO HER, BUT SHE MADE NO ANSWER. SHE BUT FISHED AWAYDEMURELY"

"AB STOOD THERE WEAPONLESS, A CREATURE WANDERING OF MIND"

"WITH A GREAT LEAP HE WENT AT AND THROUGH THE CURLING CREST OF THE YELLOWFLAME!"

"THE GIRL COWERED BEHIND A REFUGE OF LEAVES AND BRANCHES"

"UPON THE STRONG SHAFT OF ASH THE MONSTER WAS IMPALED"

THE STORY OF AB. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE BABE IN THE WOODS. 

Drifted beech leaves had made a soft, clean bed in a little hollow in awood. The wood was beside a river, the trend of which was toward theeast. There was an almost precipitous slope, perhaps a hundred and fiftyfeet from the wood, downward to the river. The wood itself, a sort ofpeninsula, was mall in extent and partly isolated from the greater forestback of it by a slight clearing. Just below the wood, or, in fact, almostin it and near the crest of the rugged bank, the mouth of a small cavewas visible. It was so blocked with stones as to leave barely room forthe entrance of a human being. The little couch of beech leaves alreadyreferred to was not many yards from the cave. 

On the leafy bed rolled about and kicked up his short legs in glee alittle brown babe. It was evident that he could not walk yet and his lackof length and width and thickness indicated what might be a babe not morethan a year of age, but, despite his apparent youth, this man-childseemed content thus left alone, while his grip on the twigs which hadfallen into his bed was strong, as he was strong, and he was breakingthem delightedly. Not only was the hair upon his head at least twice aslong as that of the average year-old child of today, but there were downyindications upon his arms and legs, and his general aspect was a swartand rugged one. He was about as far from a weakly child in appearance ascould be well imagined and he was about as jolly a looking baby, too, asone could wish to see. He was laughing and cooing as he kicked aboutamong the beech leaves and looked upward at the blue sky. His dress hasnot yet been alluded to and an apology for the negligence may be found inthe fact that he had no dress. He wore nothing. He was a baby of the timeof the cave men; of the closing period of the age of chipped stoneinstruments; the epoch of mild climate; the ending of one great animalgroup and the beginning of another; the time when the mammoth, therhinoceros, the great cave tiger and cave bear, the huge elk, reindeerand aurochs and urus and hosts of little horses, fed or gamboled in thesame forests and plains, with much discretion as to relative distancesfrom each other. 

It was some time ago, no matter how many thousands of years, when thechild--they called him Ab--lay there, naked, upon his bed of beechleaves. It may be said, too, that there existed for him every chance fora lively and interesting existence. There was prospect that he would beengaged in running away from something or running after something duringmost of his life. Times were not dull for humanity in the age of stone. The children had no lack of things to interest, if not always to amuse, them, and neither had the men and women. And this is the truthful storyof the boy Ab and his playmates and of what happened when he grew to be aman. 

It is well to speak here of the river. The stream has been alreadymentioned as flowing to the eastward. It did not flow in that directionregularly; its course was twisted and diverted, and there were bays andinlets and rapids between precipices, and islands and wooded peninsulas, and then the river merged into a lake of miles in extent, the watersconverging into the river again. So it was that the banks in one placemight form a height and in another merge evenly into a densely woodedforest or a wide plain. It was so, too, that these conditions might existopposite each other. Thus the woodland might face the plain, or theprecipice some vast extending marsh. 

To speak further of this river it may be mentioned, incidentally, thatto-day its upper reaches still exist and that the relatively small streamremaining is called the Thames. Beside and across it lies the greatestcity in the world and its mouth is upon what is called the EnglishChannel. At the time when the baby, Ab, slept that afternoon in his nestin the beech leaves this river was not called the Thames, it was onlycalled the Running Water, to distinguish it from the waters of the coast. It did not empty into the British Channel, for the simple and sufficientreason that there was no such channel at the time. Where now exists thatfamous passage which makes islands of Great Britain, where, tossed uponthe choppy waves, the travelers of the world are seasick, where Drake andHoward chased the Great Armada to the Northern seas and where, to-day, the ships of the nations are steered toward a social and commercialcenter, was then good, solid earth crowned with great forests, and thepresent little tail end of a river was part of a great affluent of theRhine, the German river famous still, but then with a size and sweepworth talking of. Then the Thames and the Elbe and Weser, into whichtumbled a thousand smaller streams, all went to feed what is now theRhine, and that then tremendous river held its course through denseforests and deep gorges until it reached broad plains, where the NorthSea is to-day, and blended finally with the Northern Ocean. 

The trees which stood upon the bank of the great river, or which could beseen in the far distance beyond the marsh or plain, were not all the sameas now exist. There was still a distinctive presence of the toweringconifers, something such as are represented in the redwood forests ofCalifornia to-day, or, in other forms, in some Australian woods. Therewas a suggestion of the fernlike but gigantic age of growth of thedistant past, the past when the earth's surface was yet warm and its airmisty, and there was an exuberance of all plant and forest growth, something compared with which the growth in the same latitude, just now, would make, it may be, but a stunted showing. It is wonderful, though, the close resemblance between most of the trees of the cave man's age, somany tens of thousands of years ago, and the trees most common to thetemperate zone to-day. The peat bogs and the caverns and the strata ofdeposits in a host of places tell truthfully what trees grew in thisdistant time. Already the oak and beech and walnut and butternut andhazel reared their graceful forms aloft, and the ground beneath theirspreading branches was strewn with the store of nuts which gave a portionof food for many of the beasts and for man as well. The ash and the yewwere there, tough and springy of fiber and destined in the far future tobecome famous in song and story, because they would furnish the wood fromwhich was made the weapon of the bowman. The maple was there with all itssymmetry. There was the elm, the dogged and beautiful tree-thing ofto-day, which so clings to life and nourishes in the midst of unwholesomecity surroundings and makes the human hive so much the better. There werethe pines, the sycamore, the foxwood and dogwood, and lime and laurel andpoplar and elder and willow, and the cherry and crab apple and others ofthe fruit-bearing kind, since so developed that they are great factors inman's subsistence now. It was a time of plenty which was riotous. Thereremained, too, a vestige of the animal as well as of the vegetable lifeof the remoter ages. There were strange and dangerous creatures whichcame sometimes up the river from its inlet into the ocean. Such eventshad been matters of interest, not to say of anxiety, to Ab's ancestors. 

The baby lying there among the beech leaves tired, finally, of its cooingand twig-snapping and slept the sleep of dreamless early childhood. Heslept happily and noiselessly, but when he at last awoke his demeanorshowed a change. He had nothing to distract him, unless it might be thebreaking of twigs again. He had no toys, and, being hungry, he began toyell. So far as can be learned from early data, babies, when hungry, havealways yelled. And, of old, as to-day, when a baby yelled, the woman whohad borne it was likely to appear at once upon the scene. Ab's mothercame running lightly from the river bank toward where the youngster lay. She was worthy of attention as she ran, and this is but a bunglingattempt at a description of her and of her dress. 

It should be explained here, with much care and caution, that the motherof Ab moved in the best and most exclusive circles of the time. Shebelonged to the aristocracy and, it may be added, regarding this finelady personally, that she had the weakness of paying much attention toher dress. She was what might properly be called a leader of society, though society was at the time somewhat attenuated, families living, generally, some miles apart, and various obstacles, chiefly in the formof large, man-eating animals, complicating the matter of paying calls. Asfor the calls themselves, they were nearly as often aggressive as social, and there is a certain degree of difference between the vicious use of aflint ax and the leaving of a card with a bending lackey. But all thisdoesn't matter. The mother of Ab belonged to the very cream of the cream, and was dressed accordingly. Her garb was elegant but simple; it had, first, the one great merit, that it could easily be put on or taken off. It was sustained with but a single knot, a bow-knot--they had learned tomake a bow-knot and other knots in the stone age, for, because of themanual requirements for living, they were cleverer fumblers with theirfingers than we are now--and the lady here described had tied her knot ina manner not to be excelled by any other woman in all the fiercelybeast-ranged countryside. 

The gown itself was of a quality to please the eye of the most carping. It was made from the skins of wolverines, and was drawn in loosely aboutthe waist by a tied band, but was really sustained by a strip of the skinwhich encircled the left shoulder and back and breast. This left theright arm free from all encumbrance, a matter of some importance, for tobe right-handed was a quality of the cave man as of the man today. Weshould have a grudge against them for this carelessness, and should, maybe, form an ambidextrous league, improving upon the past and teaching andforcing young children to use each hand alike. 

The garment of wolverine skins, sewed neatly together with thread ofsinews, was all the young mother wore. Thus hanging from the shoulder andfully encircling her, it reached from the waist to about half way downbetween the hips and the knees. It was as delightful a gown as ever wascontrived by ambitious modiste or mincing male designer in these moderntimes. It fitted with a free and easy looseness and its colors were suchas blended smoothly and kindly with the complexion of its wearer. The furof the wolverine was a mixed black and white, but neither black nor whiteis the word to use. The black was not black; it was only a swart sort ofcolor, and the white was not white; it was but a dingy, lighter contrastto the darker surface beside it. Yet the combination was rather good. There was enough of difference to catch the eye and not enough ofglaringness to offend it. The mother of Ab would be counted by a wiseobserver as the possessor of good taste. Still, dress is a small matter. There is something to say about the cave mother aside from the meredescription of her gown. 

CHAPTER II. 

MAN AND HYENA. 

It is but an act of simple gallantry and justice to assert that the cavewoman had a certain unhampered swing of movement which the modern womanoften lacks. Without any reflection upon the blessed woman of to-day, itmust be said truthfully that she can neither leap a creek nor surmountsome such obstacle as a monster tree trunk with a close approach to theease and grace of this mother who came bounding through the forest. Therewas nothing unknowing or hesitant about her movements. She ran swiftlyand leaped lightly when occasion came. She was lithe as the panther andas careless of where her brown feet touched the ground. 

The woman had physical charms. She was of about the average size ofwomanhood as we see it embodied now, but her waist was not compressed atan unseemly angle, and much resembled in its contour that of the Venus ofMilo which has become such a stock example of the healthfullysymmetrical. Her hair was brown and long. It was innocent of knot or coilor braid, and was transfixed by no abatis of dangerous pins. It was notparted but was thrown straight backward over the head and hung downfairly and far between brown shoulders. It was a fine head of hair; therecould be no question about that. It had gloss and color. Captiouscritics, reasoning from the standpoint of another age, might think itneeded combing, but that is only a matter of opinion. It was tangledtogether in a compact and fluffy mass, and so did not wander into thewoman's eyes, which was a good thing and a great convenience, for brighteyes and unobstructed vision were required in those lively days. 

The face of this lady showed, at a glance, that no cosmetic had ever beenrelied upon to give it an artificial charm. As a matter of fact it wouldhave been difficult to use cosmetics upon that face in the modern way, for there was a suggestion of something more than down upon thecountenance, and there were certain irregularities of facial outline soprominent that such details as the little matter of complexion must betrifling. The eyes were deep set and small, the nose was short and thickand possessed a certain vagueness of outline not easy of description. Theupper lip was excessively long and the under lip protruding. The chin waswell defined and firm. The mouth was rather wide, and the teeth werestrong and even, and as white as any ivory ever seen. Such was the face, and there may be added some details of interest about the figure. Thearms of this fascinating woman were perfectly proportioned. They wereadapted to the times and were very beautiful. Down each of them fromshoulder to elbow ran a strip of short dark hair. From either hand ranupward to the elbow another strip of hair, and the two, meeting at theelbow, formed a delightful little tuft reminding one of what is known asa "widow's peak, " or that little point which grows down so charmingly onan occasional woman's forehead. Her biceps were tremendous, as mustnecessarily be the case with a lady accustomed to swing from limb to limbalong the treetops. Her thumb was nearly as long as her fingers, and thepalms of her hands were hard. Her legs were like her arms in their degreeof muscular development and hairy adornment. She had beautiful feet. Itis to be admitted that her heels projected a trifle more than is countedthe ideal thing at the present day, and that her big toe and all theother toes were very much in evidence, but there is not one woman inten thousand now who could as handily pick up objects with her toes ascould the mother of the baby Ab. She was as brown as a nut, with the tanof a half tropical summer, and as healthy a creature, from tawny head tobackward sloping heel, as ever trod a path in the world's history. Thiswas the quality of the lady who came so swiftly to learn the nature ofher offspring's trouble. Ladies of that day attended, as a rule, to thewants of their own children. A wet nurse was a thing unknown and a dryone as unthought of. This was good for the children. 

The woman made a dive into the little hollow and picked the babe from itsnest of leaves and tossed him up lightly, and at once his crying ceased, and his little brown arms went around her neck, and he cooed and prattledin very much the same fashion as does a babe of the present time. He wascontent, all in a moment, yet some noise must have aroused him, for, asit chanced, there was great need that this particular babe at thisparticular moment should have awakened and cried aloud for his mother. This was made evident immediately. As the woman tossed him aloft in herarms and cuddled him again there came a sound to her ears which made herleap like some wilder creature of the forest up to a little vantageground. She turned her head, and then--you should have seen the woman!

Very nearly above them swung down one of the branches of a great beechtree. The mother threw the child into the hollow of her left arm, andleaped upward a yard to catch the branch with her right hand. So she hungdangling. Then, instantly, holding him firmly by one arm in her lefthand, she lowered the child between her legs and clasped them about himclosely. And then, had it been your fortune to be born in those times, you might have seen good climbing. With both her strong arms free, thisvigorous matron ran up the stout beech limb which depended downward fromthe great bole of the tree until she was twenty feet above the ground, and then, lifting herself into a comfortable place, in a moment wassitting there at ease, her legs and one arm coiled about the big branchand a smaller upstanding one, while the other arm held the brown babeclose to her bosom. 

This charming lady of the period had reached her perch in the beech treetop none too soon. Even as she swung herself into place upon the hugebough, there came rushing across the space beneath, snarling, smellingand seeking, a brute as foul and dangerous as could be imagined formother and son upon the ground. It was of a dirty dun color, mottled andstriped with a lighter but still dingy hue. It had a black, hoggish nose, but there were fangs in its great jaws. It resembled a huge wolf, save asto its massiveness and club countenance, It was one of the monster hyenasof the time, a beast which must have been as dangerous to the men thenliving as any animal except the cave tiger and the cave bear. Itsdegenerate posterity, as they shuffle uneasily back and forth when cagedto-day, are perhaps not less foul of aspect, but are relatively pygmies. Doubtless the brute had scented the sleeping babe, and, snarling aloud inits search, had waked it, inducing the cry which proved the child'ssalvation. 

The beast scented immediately the prey above him and leaped upwardferociously and vainly. Was the woman thus beset thus holding herselfaloft and with her child upon one arm in a state of sickening anxiety?Hardly! She but encircled the supporting branch the closer, and laughedaloud. She even poked one bare foot down at the leaping beast, and wavedher leg in provocation. At the same time there was no doubt that she wasbeset. Furthermore she was hungry, and so she raised her voice, and sentout through the forest a strange call, a quavering minor wail, butsomething to be heard at a great distance. There was no delay in theresponse, for delays were dangerous when cave men lived. The call wasanswered instantly and the answering cry was repeated as she calledagain, the sound of the reply approaching near and nearer all the time. All at once the manner of her calling changed; it was an appeal nolonger; it was a conversation, an odd, clucking, penetrating speech inthe shortest of sentences. She was telling of the situation. There wasprompt reply; the voice seemed suddenly higher in the air and then came, swinging easily from branch to branch along the treetops, the father ofAb, a person who felt a natural and aggressive interest in what was goingon. 

To describe the cave man it is, it may be, best of all to say that he wasthe woman over again, only stronger, longer limbed and deeper chested, firmer of jaw and more grim of countenance. He was dressed almost as shewas. From his broad shoulder hung a cloak of the skin of some wild beastbut the cord which tied it was a stout one, and in the belt thus formedwas stuck a weapon of such quality as men have rarely carried since. Itwas a stone ax; an ax heavier than any battle-ax of mediaeval times, itshaft a scant three feet in length, inclosing the ax through a split inthe tough wood, all being held in place by a taut and hardened mass ofknotted sinews. It was a fearful weapon, but one only to be wielded bysuch a man as this, one with arms almost as mighty as those of thegorilla. 

The man sat himself upon the limb beside his wife and child. The twotalked together in their clucking language for a moment or two, but fewwords were wasted. Words had not their present abundance in those days;action was everything. The man was hungry, too, and wanted to get home assoon as possible. He had secured food, which was awaiting them, and thisslight, annoying episode of the day must be ended promptly. He clamberedeasily up the tree and wrenched off a deadened limb at least two yards inlength, then tumbling back again and passing his wife and child along themain branch, he swung down to where the leaping beast could almost reachhim. The heavy club he carried gave him an advantage. With a whistlingsweep, as the hyena leaped upward in its ravenous folly, came this hugeclub crashing against the thick skull, a blow so fair and stark andstrong that the stunned beast fell backward upon the ground, and then, down, lightly as any monkey, dropped the cave man. The huge stone ax wentcrashing into the brain of the quivering brute, and that was the end ofthe incident. Mother and child leaped down together, and the man andwoman went chattering toward their cave. This was not a particularlyeventful day with them; they were accustomed to such things. 

They went strolling off through the beech glades, the strong, hairy, heavy-jawed man, the muscular but more lightly built woman and the child, perched firmly and chattering blithely upon her shoulder as they walked, or, rather, half trotted along the river side and toward the cave. Theywere light of foot and light of thought, but there was ever that almostunconscious alertness appertaining to their time. Their flexible earstwitched, and turned, now forward now backward, to catch the slightestsound. Their nostrils were open for dangerous scents, or for the scent ofthat which might give them food, either animal or vegetable, and as forthe eyes, well, they were the sharpest existent within the history of thehuman race. They were keen of vision at long distance and close at hand, and ever were they in motion, swiftly turned sidewise this way and that, peering far ahead or looking backward to note what enemies of the woodmight be upon the trail. So, swiftly along the glade and ever alert, wentthe father and mother of Ab, carrying the strong child with them. 

There came no new alarm, and soon the cave was reached, though on the waythere was a momentary deviation from the path, to gather up the nuts andberries the woman had found in the afternoon while the babe was lyingsleeping. The fruitage was held in a great leaf, a pliant thing pulledtogether at the edges, tied stoutly with a strand of tough grass, andmaking a handy pouch containing a quart or two of the food, which was thewoman's contribution to the evening meal. As for the father, he had moreto offer, as was evident when the cave was reached. 

The man and woman crept through the narrow entrance and stood erect in arecess in the rocks twenty feet square, at least, and perhaps fifteenfeet in height. Looking upward one could see a gleam of light from theouter world. The orifice through which the light came was the chimney, dug downward with much travail from the level of the land above. Directlyunderneath the opening was the fireplace, for men had learned thoroughlythe use of fire, and had even some fancies as to getting rid of smoke. There were smoldering embers upon the hearth, embers of the hardest ofwood, the wood which would preserve a fire for the greatest length oftime, for the cave man had neither flint and steel nor matches, and whena fire expired it was a matter of some difficulty to secure a flameagain. On this occasion there was no trouble. The embers were beaten upeasily into glowing coals and twigs and dry dead limbs cast upon themmade soon a roaring flame. As the cave was lighted the proprietor pointedlaughingly to the abundance of meat he had secured. It was food of thefinest sort and in such quantity that even this stalwart being's strengthmust have been exceptionally tested in bringing the burden to the cave. It was something in quality for an epicure of the day and there wasenough of it to make the cave man's family easy for a week, at least. Itwas a hind quarter of a wild horse. 

CHAPTER III. 

A FAMILY DINNER. 

Despite the hyena and baby incident, the day had been a satisfactory onefor this cave family. Of course, had the woman failed to reach just whenshe did the hollow in which her babe was left there would have come atragedy in the extinction of a young and promising cave child, and thetwo would have been mourning, as even wild beasts mourn for their lostyoung. But there was little reversion to past possibilities in the mindsof the cave people. The couple were not worrying over what might havebeen. The mother had found food of one sort in abundance, and thefather's fortune had been royal. He had tossed a rock from a precipice ahundred feet in height down into a passing herd of the little wildhorses, and great luck had followed, for one of them had been killed, andso this was a holiday in the cave. The man and wife were at ease and hadeach an appetite. 

The nuts gathered by the woman were tossed in a heap among the ashes andlive coals were raked upon them, and the popping which followed showedhow well they were being roasted. A sturdy twig, two yards in length andsharpened at the end, was utilized by the man in cooking the strips ofmeat cut from the haunch of the wild horse and very savory were the odorsthat filled the cave. There was the faint perfume of the crackling nutsand there was the fragrant beneficence of the broiling meat. There are nodefinite records upon the subject; the chef of to-day can give you noinformation on the point, but there is reason to believe that a steakfrom the wild horse of the time was something admirable. There is a sortof maxim current in this age, in civilized rural communities, to theeffect that those quadrupeds are good to eat which "chew the cud or partthe hoof. " The horse of to-day is a creature with but one toe to eachleg--we all know that--but the horse of the cave man's time had onlylately parted with the split hoof, and so was fairly edible, evenaccording to the modern standard. 

The father and mother of Ab were not more than two years past theirhoneymoon. They, in their way, were glad that their union had been soblest and that a lusty man-child was rolling about and crowing and cooingupon the earthen floor of the cave. They lived from hand to mouth, andfrom day to day, and this day had been a good one. They were theretogether, man, woman and child. They had warmth and food. The entrance tothe cave was barred so that no monster of the period might enter. Theycould eat and sleep with a certainty of the perfect digestion whichfollowed such a life as theirs and with a certainty of all peace for themoment. Even the child mumbled heartily, though not yet very strongly, atthe delicious meat of the little horse, and, the meal ended, the two laydown upon a mass of leaves which made their bed, and the child laysnuggled and warm within reach of them. The aristocracy of the time hadgone to sleep. 

There was silence in the cave, but, outside, the world was not so still. The night was not always one of silence in the cave man's time. The hoursof darkness were those when the creature which walked upon two legs wasno longer gliding through the forest with ready club or spear, and whenthose creatures which used four legs instead of two, especially thedefenseless, felt more at ease than in the daytime. The grass-eatinganimals emerged from the forest into the plateaus and upon the low plainsalong the river side and the flesh-eaters began again their hunting. Itwas a time of wild life, and of wild death, for out of the abundance muchwas taken; there were nightly tragedies, and the beasts of prey were asglutted as the urus or the elk which fed on the sweet grasses. It was buta matter of difference in diet and in the manner of doing away with onelife which must be sacrificed to support another. There was liveliness atnight with the queer thing, man, out of the way, and brutes and beasts ofmany sorts, taking their chances together, were happier with him absent. They could not understand him, and liked him not, though the great-clawedand sharp-toothed ones had a vast desire to eat him. He was a disturbingelement in the community of the plain and forest. 

And, while all this play of life and death went on outside, the threepeople, the man, woman and child, in the cave slept as soundly as sleepthe drunken or the just. They were full-fed and warm and safe. No beastof a size greater than that of a lank wolf or sinewy wildcat could enterthe cave through the narrow entrance between the heaped-up rocks, and ofthese, as of any other dangerous beast, there was none which would facewhat barred even the narrow passage, for it was fire. Just at theentrance the all-night fire of knots and hardest wood smoked, flamed andsmoldered and flickered, and then flamed again, and held the passagewaysecurely. No animal that ever lived, save man, has ever dared the touchof fire. It was the cave man's guardian. 

CHAPTER IV. 

AB AND OAK. 

Such were the father and mother of Ab, and such was the boy himself. Hissurroundings have not been indicated with all the definiteness desirable, because of the lack of certain data, but, in a general way, the degree ofhis birth, the manner of his rearing and the natural aspects of hisestate have been described. That the young man had a promising futurecould not admit of doubt. He was the first-born of an important family ofa great race and his inheritance had no boundaries. Just where thepossessions of the Ab family began or where they terminated no bird norbeast nor human being could tell. The estates of the family extended fromthe Mediterranean to the Arctic Ocean and there were no dividing lines. Of course, something depended upon the existence or non-existence of astronger cave family somewhere else, but that mattered not. And the babegrew into a sturdy youth, just as grow the boys of today, and had hisfriendships and adventures. He did not attend the public schools--theschool system was what might reasonably be termed inefficient in histime--nor did he attend a private school, for the private schools wereweak, as well, but he did attend the great school of Nature from themoment he opened his eyes in the morning until he closed them at night. Of his schoolboy days and his friendships and his various affairs, thisis the immediate story. 

The father and mother of Ab as has, it is hoped, been made apparent, werestrong people, intelligent up to the grade of the time and worthy ofregard in many ways. The two could fairly hold their own, not onlyagainst the wild beasts, but against any other cave pair, should theemergency arise. They had names, of course. The name of Ab's father wasOne-Ear, the sequence of an incident occurring when he was very young, anaccidental and too intimate acquaintance with a species of wildcat whichinfested the region and from which the babe had been rescued none toosoon. The name of Ab's mother was Red-Spot, and she had been so calledbecause of a not unsightly but conspicuous birthmark appearing on herleft shoulder. As to ancestry, Ab's father could distinctly remember hisown grandfather as the old gentleman had appeared just previous to hisconsumption by a monstrous bear, and Red-Spot had some vague remembranceof her own grandmother. 

As for Ab's own name, it came from no personal mark or peculiarity or asthe result of any particular incident of his babyhood. It was merely aconvenient adaptation by his parents of a childish expression of his own, a labial attempt to say something. His mother had mimicked his babyishprattlings, the father had laughed over the mimicry, and, almostunconsciously, they referred to their baby afterward as "Ab, " until itgrew into a name which should be his for life. There was no formal earlynaming of a child in those days; the name eventually made itself, andthat was all there was to it. There was, for instance, a child living notmany miles away, destined to be a future playmate and ally of Ab, who, though of nearly the same age, had not yet been named at all. His title, when he finally attained it, was merely Oak. This was not because he wasstraight as an oak, or because he had an acorn birthmark, but becauseadjoining the cave where he was born stood a great oak with spreadinglimbs, from one of which was dangled a rude cradle, into which the babewas tied, and where he would be safe from all attacks during the absenceof his parents on such occasions as they did not wish the burden ofcarrying him about. "Rock-a-by-baby upon the tree-top" was often areality in the time of the cave men. 

Ab was fortunate in being born at a reasonably comfortable stage of theworld's history. He had a decent prospect as to clothing and shelter, andthere was abundance of food for those brave enough or ingenious enough towin it. The climate was not enervating. There were cold times for thepeople of the epoch and, in their seasons, harsh and chilling winds sweptover bare and chilling glaciers, though a semi-tropical landscape was allabout. So suddenly had come the change from frigid cold to moderatewarmth, that the vast fields of ice once moving southward were not thawedto their utmost depths even when rank vegetation and a teeming life hadsprung up in the now European area, and so it came that, in some places, cold, white monuments and glittering plateaus still showed themselvesamid the forest and fed the tumbling streams which made the riversrushing to the ocean. There were days of bitter cold in winter and sultryheat in summer. 

It may fairly be borne in mind of this child Ab that he was somewhatdifferent from the child of to-day, and nearer the quadruped in hismanner of swift development. The puppy though delinquent in the matter ofopening it's eyes, waddles clumsily upon its legs very early in itscareer. Ab, of course, had his eyes open from the beginning, and if thebabe of to-day were to stand upright as soon as Ab did, his mother wouldbe the proudest creature going and his father, at the club, would beacting intolerable. It must be admitted, though, that neither One-Ear norRed-Spot manifested an extraordinary degree of enthusiasm over theprecociousness of their first-born. He was not, for the time, remarkable, and parents of the day were less prone than now to spoiling children. Ab's layette had been of beech leaves, his bed had been of beech leaves, and a beech twig, supple and stinging, had already been applied to himwhen he misbehaved himself. As he grew older his acquaintance with itwould be more familiar. Strict disciplinarians in their way, thoughaffectionate enough after their own fashion, were the parents ofthe time. 

The existence of this good family of the day continued without diremisadventure. Ab at nine years of age was a fine boy. There could be noquestion about that. He was as strong as a young gibbon, and, it must beadmitted, in certain characteristics would have conveyed to the learnedobserver of to-day a suggestion of that same animal. His eyes were brightand keen and his mouth and nose were worth looking at. His nose wasbroad, with nostrils aggressively prominent, and as for his mouth, it waswhat would be called to-day excessively generous in its proportions for aboy of his size. But it did not lack expression. His lips could quiver attimes, or become firmly set, and there was very much of what might, eventhen, be called "manliness" in the general bearing of the sturdy littlecave child. He had never cried much when a babe--cave children were notmuch addicted to crying, save when very hungry--and he had grown to hispresent stature, which was not very great, with a healthfulness andgeneral manner of buoyancy all the time. He was as rugged a child of hisage as could be found between the shore that lay long leagues westward ofwhat is now the western point of Ireland and anywhere into middle Europe. He had begun to have feelings and hopes and ambitions, too. He had foundwhat his surroundings meant. He had at least done one thing well. He hadmade well-received advances toward a friend; and a friend is a greatthing for a boy, when he is another boy of about the same age. Thisfriendship was not quite commonplace. 

Ab, who could climb like a young monkey, laid most casually thefoundation for this companionship which was to affect his future life. Hehad scrambled, one day, up a tree standing near the cave, and, climbingout along a limb near its top, had found a comfortable resting-place, andthere upon the swaying bough was "teetering" comfortably, when somethingin another tree, further up the river, caught his sharp eye. It was adark mass, --it might have been anything caught in a treetop, --but the oddpart of it was that it was "teetering" just as he was. Ab watched theobject for a long time curiously, and finally decided that it must beanother boy, or perhaps a girl, who was swaying in the distant tree. There came to him a vigorous thought. He resolved to become betteracquainted; he resolved dimly, for this was the first time that any ideaof further affiliation with anyone had come into his youthful mind. Ofcourse, it must not be understood that he had been in absolute retirementthroughout his young but not uneventful life. Other cave men and women, sometimes accompanied by their children, had visited the cave of One-Earand Red-Spot and Ab had become somewhat acquainted with other humanbeings and with what were then the usages of the best hungry society. Hehad never, though, become really familiar with anyone save his father andmother and the children which his mother had borne after him, a boy and agirl. This particular afternoon a sudden boyish yearning came upon him. He wanted to know who the youth might be who was swinging in the distanttree. He was a resolute young cub, and to determine was to act. 

It was rare, particularly in the wooded districts of the country of thecave men, for a boy of nine to go a mile from home alone. There wasdanger lurking in every rod and rood, and, naturally, such a boy wouldnot be versed in all woodcraft, nor have the necessary strength of armfor a long arboreal journey, swinging himself along beneath theintermingling branches of close-standing trees. So this departure was, for Ab, a venture something out of the common. But he was strong for hisage, and traversed rapidly a considerable distance through the treetopsin the direction of what he saw. Once or twice, though, there cameexigencies of leaping and grasping aloft to which he felt himselfunequal, and then, plucky boy as he was, he slid down the bole of thetree and, looking about cautiously, made a dash across some little gladeand climbed again. He had traversed little more than half the distancetoward the object he sought when his sharp ears caught the sound ofrustling leaves ahead of him. He slipped behind the trunk of the treeinto whose top he was clambering and then, reaching out his head, peeredforward warily. As he thus ensconced himself, the sound he had heardceased suddenly. It was odd. The boy was perplexed and somewhat anxious. He could but peer and peer and remain absolutely quiet. At last hissearching watchfulness was rewarded. He saw a brown protuberance on theside of a great tree, above where the branches began, not twoscore yardsdistant from him, and that brown protuberance moved slightly. It wasevident that the protuberance was watching him as he was watching it. Herealized what it meant. There was another boy there! He was notparticularly afraid of another boy and at once came out of hiding. Theother boy came calmly into view as well. They sat there, looking at eachother, each at ease upon a great branch, each with an arm sustaininghimself, each with his little brown legs dangling carelessly, and eachgazing upon the other with bright eyes evincing alike watchfulness andcuriosity and some suspicion. So they sat, perched easily, theseexcellent young, monkeyish boys of the time, each waiting for the otherto begin the conversation, just as two boys wait when they thus meettoday. Their talk would not perhaps be intelligible to any professor oflanguages in all the present world, but it was a language, howeverlimited its vocabulary, which sufficed for the needs of the men and womenand children of the cave time. It was Ab who first broke the silence:

"Who are you?" he said. 

"I am Oak, " responded the other boy. "Who are you?"

"Me? Oh, I am Ab. "

"Where do you come from?"

"From the cave by the beeches; and where do you come from?"

"I come from the cave where the river turns, and I am not afraid of you. "

"I am not afraid of you, either, " said Ab. 

"Let us climb down and get upon that big rock and throw stones at thingsin the water, " said Oak. 

"All right, " said Ab. 

And the two slid, one after the other, down the great tree trunks and ranrapidly to the base of a huge rock overtopping the river, and with sidesalmost perpendicular, but with crevices and projections which enabled theexpert youngsters to ascend it with ease. There was a little plateau uponits top a few yards in area and, once established there, the boys weresafe from prowling beasts. And this was the manner of the first meetingof two who were destined to grow to manhood together, to be goodcompanions and have full young lives, howbeit somewhat exciting at times, and to affect each other for joy and sorrow, and good and bad, and allthat makes the quality of being. 

CHAPTER V. 

A GREAT ENTERPRISE. 

What always happens when two boys not yet fairly in their 'teens meet, atfirst aggressively, and then, each gradually overcoming this apprehensionof the other, decide upon a close acquaintance and long comradeship?Their talk is firmly optimistic and they constitute much of the world. Asfor Ab and Oak, when there had come to them an ease in conversation, there dawned gradually upon each the idea that, next to himself, theother was probably the most important personage in the world, fittingcompanion and confederate of a boy who in an incredibly short space oftime was going to become a man and do things on a tremendous scale. Seated upon the rock, a point of ease and vantage, they talked long ofwhat two boys might do, and so earnest did they become in consideringtheir possible great exploits that Ab demanded of Oak that he go with himto his home. This was a serious matter. It was a no slight thing for aboy of that day, allowed a playground within certain limits adjacent tohis cave home, to venture far away; but this in Oak's life was a greatoccasion. It was the first time he had ever met and talked with a boy ofhis age, and he became suddenly reckless, assenting promptly to Ab'sproposal. They ran along the forest paths together toward Ab's cave, clucking in their queer language and utilizing in that short journey mostof the brief vocabulary of the day in anticipatory account of what theywere going to do. 

Ab's father and mother rather approved of Oak. They even went so far asto consent that Ab might pay a return visit upon the succeeding day, though it was stipulated that the father--and this was a demand themother made--should accompany the boy upon most of the journey. One-Earknew Oak's father very well. Oak's father, Stripe-Face, was a man ofstanding in the widely-scattered community. Stripe-Face was so calledbecause in a casual, and, on his part, altogether uninvited encounterwith a cave bear when he was a young man, a sweep of the claws of hisadversary had plowed furrows down one cheek, leaving scars thereafterwhich were livid streaks. One-Ear and Stripe-Face were good friends. Sometimes they hunted together; they had fought together, and it wasnothing out of the way, and but natural, that Ab and Oak should becomecompanions. So it came that One-Ear went across the forest with his boythe next day and visited the cave of Stripe-Face, and that the two youngcubs went out together buoyant and in conquering mood, while the grownmen planned something for their own advantage. Certainly the boys matchedwell. A finer pair of youngsters of eight or nine years of age couldhardly be imagined than these two who sallied forth that afternoon. Theysend very fine boys nowadays to our great high schools in the UnitedStates, and to Rugby and Eaton and Harrow in England, but never wentforth a finer pair to learn things. No smattering of letters or lore ofany printed sort had these rugged youths, but their eyes were piercing asthose of the eagle, the grip of their hands was strong, their pace wasswift when they ran upon the ground and their course almost as rapid whenthey swung along the treetops. They were self-possessed and ready andalert and prepared to pass an examination for admission to any universityof the time; that is, to any of Nature's universities, wherematriculation depended upon prompt conception of existing dangers and theways of avoiding them, and of all adroitness in attainments which gavefood and shelter and safety. Eh! but they were a gallant pair, these twoyoung gentlemen who burst forth, owning the world entirely and feeling aserene confidence in their ability, united, to maintain their rights. Andtheir ambitions soon took a definite turn. They decided that they mustkill a horse!

The wild horse of the time, already referred to as esteemed for hisedible qualities, was, in the opinion of the cave people, but of moderatevalue otherwise. He was abundant, ranging in herds of hundreds along thepampas of the great Thames valley, and furnished forth abundant food forman as well as the wild beasts, when they could capture him. His skin, though, was not counted of much worth. Its short hair afforded littlewarmth in cloak or breech-clout, and the tanned pelt became hard anduncomfortable when it dried after a wetting. Still, there were varioususes for this horse's hide. It made fine strings and thongs, and thebeast's flesh, as has been said, was a staple of the larder. The firstgreat resolve of Ab and Oak, these two gallant soldiers of fortune, wasthat, alone and unaided, they would circumvent and slay one of these wildhorses, thereby astonishing their respective families, at the same timegaining the means for filling the stomachs of those families torepletion, and altogether covering themselves with glory. 

Not in a day nor in a week were the plans of these youthful warriors andstatesmen matured. The wild horse had long since learned that thecreature man was as dangerous to it as were any of the fierce four-footedanimals which hunted it, and its scent was good and its pace was swiftand it went in herds and avoided doubtful places. Not so easy a task asit might seem was that which Ab and Oak had resolved upon. There must besome elaborate device to attain their end, but they were confident. Theyhad noted often what older hunters did, and they felt themselves as goodas anybody. They plotted long and earnestly and even made a mentaldistribution of their quarry, deciding what should be done with its skinand with its meat, far in advance of any determination upon a plan forits capture and destruction. They were boys. 

There was no objection from the parents. They knew that the boys mustlearn to become hunters, and if the two were not now capable of takingcare of themselves in the wood, then they were but disappointingoffspring. Consent secured, the boys acted entirely upon their ownresponsibility, and, to make their subsequent plans clearer, it may bewell to explain a little more of the geography of the region. The cave ofAb was on the north side of the stream, where the rocky banks came closetogether with a little beach at either side, and the cave of Oak wasperhaps a mile to the westward, on the same side of the stream and withvery similar surroundings. On the south side of the river, opposite thehigh banks between the two caves, the land was a prairie valley reachingfar away. On the north side as well there was at one place a littlevalley, but it reached back only a few hundred yards from the river andwas surrounded by the forest-crowned hills. The close standing oaks andbeeches afforded, in emergency, a highway among their ranches, and alongthis pathway the boys were comparatively safe. Either could climb a treeat any time, and of the animals that were dangerous in the treetops therewere but few; in fact, there was only one of note, a tawny, cat-likecreature, not numerous, and resembling the lynx of the present day. Almost in the midst of the little plain or valley, on the north side ofthe river, rose a clump of trees, and in this the two boys saw meansafforded them for a realization of their hopes. The wild horses feddaily in the valley to the north, as in the greater one to the south ofthe river. But there also, in the high grass, as upon the south, sometimes lurked the great beasts of prey, and to be far away from a treeupon the plain was an unsafe thing for a cave man. From the forest edgeto the clump of trees was not more than two minutes' rush for a vigorousboy and it was this fact which suggested to the youths their plan ofcapture of the horse. 

The homes of the cave men were located, when possible, where the refugeof safety overhung closely the river's bank, and where the non-climbinganimals must pass along beneath them, but, even at that period of few menand abundant animal life, there had developed an acuteness among theweaker beasts, and they had learned to avoid certain paths that hadproved fatal to their brethren. They were numerous in the plains andcomparatively careless there, relying upon their speed to escape moredangerous wild beasts, but they passed rarely beneath the ledges, where aweighty rock dropped suddenly meant certain death. It was not a taskentirely easy for the cave men to have meat with regularity, flush as wasthe life about them. New devices must be resorted to, and Ab and Oak wereabout to employ one not infrequently successful. 

The clam of the period, particularly the clam along this reach of theupper Thames, was a marvel in his make-up. He was as large as he wasluscious, as abundant as he was both and was a great feature in the foodsupply of the time. Not merely was he a feature in the food supply, butin a mechanical way, and the first object sought by the boys, after theirplan had been agreed upon, was the shell of the great clam. They had nodifficulty in securing what they wanted, for strewn all about each cavewere the big shells in abundance. Sharp-edged, firm-backed, one of theseshells made an admirable little shovel, something with which to cut theturf and throw up the soil, a most useful implement in the hands of theriver haunting people. The idea of the youngsters was simply this: Theirrendezvous should be at that point in the forest nearest the clump oftrees standing solitary in the valley below. They would select the safesthours and then from the high ground make a sudden dash to the tree clump. They would be watchful, of course, and seek to avoid the class of animalsfor whom boys made admirable luncheon. Once at the clump of trees andsafely ensconced among the branches, they could determine wisely upon thenext step in their adventure. They were very knowing, these young men, for they had observed their elders. What they wanted to do, what was theend and aim of all this recklessness, was to dig a pit in this richvalley land close to the clump of trees, a pit say some ten feet inlength by six feet in breadth and seven or eight feet in depth. Thatmeant a gigantic labor. Gillian, of "The Toilers of the Sea, " assigned tohimself hardly a greater task. These were boys of the cave kind and must, perforce, conduct themselves originally. As to the details of the plan, well, they were only vague, as yet, but rapidly assuming a form moredefinite. 

The first thing essential for the boys was to reach the clump of trees. It was just before noon one day when they swung together on a tree branchsweeping nearly to the ground, and at a point upon the hill directlyopposite the clump. This was the time selected for their first dash. Theystudied every square yard of the long grass of the little valley withanxious eyes. In the distance was feeding a small drove of wild horsesand, farther away, close by the river side, upreared occasionally whatmight be the antlers of the great elk of the period. Between the boys andthe clump of trees there was no movement of the grass, nor any sign oflife. They could discern no trace of any lurking beast. 

"Are you afraid?" asked Ab. 

"Not if we run together. "

"All right, " said Ab; "let's go it with a rush. "

The slim brown bodies dropped lightly to the ground together, each of theboys clasping one of the clamshells. Side by side they darted down theslope and across through the deep grass until the clump of trees wasreached, when, like two young apes, they scrambled into the safety of thebranches. 

The tree up which they had clambered was the largest of the group and ofdense foliage. It was one of the huge conifers of the age, but itsbranches extended to within perhaps thirty feet of the ground, and fromthe greatest of these side branches reached out, growing so closetogether as to make almost a platform. It was but the work of a half hourfor these boys, with their arboreal gifts, to twine additional limbstogether and to construct for themselves a solid nest and lookout wherethey might rest at ease, at a distance above the greatest leap of anybeast existing. In this nest they curled themselves down and, after muchclucking debate, formulated their plan of operation. Only one boy shoulddig at a time, the other must remain in the nest as a lookout. 

Swift to act in those days were men, because necessity had made it ahabit to them, and swifter still, as a matter of course, were impulsiveboys. Their tree nest fairly made, work, they decided, must begin atonce. The only point to be determined upon was regarding the location ofthe pit. There was a tempting spread of green herbage some hundred feetto the north and east of the tree, a place where the grass was high butnot so high as it was elsewhere. It had been grazed already by thewandering horses and it was likely that they would visit the temptingarea again. There, it was finally settled, should the pit be dug. It wasquite a distance from the tree, but the increased chances of securing awild horse by making the pit in that particular place more than offset, in the estimation of the boys, the added danger of a longer run forsafety in an emergency. The only question remaining was as to who shoulddo the first digging and who be the first lookout? There was a violentdebate upon this subject. 

"I will go and dig and you shall keep watch, " said Oak. 

"No, I'll dig and you shall watch, " was Ab's response. "I can run fasterthan you. "

Oak hesitated and was reluctant. He was sturdy, this young gentleman, butAb possessed, somehow, the mastering spirit. It was settled finally thatAb should dig and Oak should watch. And so Ab slid down the tree, clamshell in hand, and began laboring vigorously at the spot agreed upon. 

It was not a difficult task for a strong boy to cut through tough grassroots with the keen edge of the clamshell. He outlined roughly andrapidly the boundaries of the pit to be dug and then began chopping outsods just as the workman preparing to garnish some park or lawn beginshis work to-day. Meanwhile, Oak, all eyes, was peering in everydirection. His place was one of great responsibility, and he recognizedthe fact. It was a tremendous moment for the youngsters. 

CHAPTER VI. 

A DANGEROUS VISITOR. 

It was not alone necessary for the plans of Ab and Oak that there shouldbe made a deep hole in the ground. It was quite as essential for theirpurposes that the earth removed should not be visible upon the adjacentsurface. The location of the pit, as has been explained, was some yardsto the northeast of the tree in which the lookout had been made. A fewyards southwest of the tree was a slight declivity and damp hollow, forfrom that point the land sloped, in a reed-grown marsh toward the river. It was decided to throw into this marsh all the excavated soil, and so, when Ab had outlined the pit and cut up its surface into sods, he carriedthem one by one to the bank and cast them down among the reeds where thewater still made little puddles. In time of flood the river spread outinto a lake, reaching even as far as here. The sod removed, there wasexposed a rectangle of black soil, for the earth was of alluvial depositand easy of digging. Shellful after shellful of the dirt did Ab carryfrom where the pit was to be, trotting patiently back and forth, but thework was wearisome and there was a great waste of energy. It was Oak whogave an inspiration. 

"We must carry more at a time, " he called out. And then he tossed down toAb a wolfskin which had been given him by his father as a protection oncold nights and which he had brought along, tied about his waist, quiteincidentally, for, ordinarily, these boys wore no clothing in warmweather. Clothing, in the cave time, appertained only to manhood andwomanhood, save in winter. But Oak had brought the skin along because hehad noticed a vast acorn crop upon his way to and from the rendezvous andhad in mind to carry back to his own home cave some of the nuts. The peltwas now to serve an immediately useful purpose. 

Spreading the skin upon the grass beside him, Ab heaped it with the dirtuntil there had accumulated as much as he could carry, when, gatheringthe corners together, he struggled with the enclosed load manfully to thebank and spilled it down into the morass. The digging went on rapidlyuntil Ab, out of breath and tired, threw down the skin and climbed intothe treetop and became the watchman, while Oak assumed his labor. So theyworked alternately in treetop and upon the ground until the sun's raysshot red and slanting from the west. Wiser than to linger until dusk hadtoo far deepened were these youngsters of the period. The clamshells wereleft in the pit. The lookout above declared nothing in sight, then slidto the ground and joined his friend, and another dash was made to thehill and the safety of its treetops. It was in great spirits that theboys separated to seek their respective homes. They felt that they werepersonages of consequence. They had no doubt of the success of theenterprise in which they had embarked, and the next day found themtogether again at an early hour, when the digging was enthusiasticallyresumed. 

Many a load of dirt was carried on the second day from the pit to themarsh's edge, and only once did the lookout have occasion to suggest tohis working companion that he had better climb the tree. A movement inthe high grass some hundred yards away had aroused suspicion; some wildanimal had passed, but, whatever it was, it did not approach the clump oftrees and work was resumed at once. When dusk came the moist black soilfound in the pit had all been carried away and the boys had reached, totheir intense disgust, a stratum of hard packed gravel. That meantinfinitely more difficult work for them and the use of some new utensil. 

There was nothing daunting in the new problem. When it came to the merematter of securing a tool for digging the hard gravel, both Ab and Oakwere easily at home. The cave dwellers, haunting the river side forcenturies, had learned how to deal with gravel, and when Ab returned tothe scene the next day he brought with him a sturdy oaken stave some sixfeet in length, sharpened to a point and hardened in the fire until itwas almost iron-like in its quality. Plunged into the gravel as far asthe force of a blow could drive it, and pulled backward with the leverageobtained, the gravel was loosened and pried upward either in masses whichcould be lifted out entire, or so crumbled that it could be easily dishedout with the clamshell. The work went on more slowly, but not lesssteadily nor hopefully than on the days preceding, and, for some time, was uninterrupted by any striking incident. The boys were becomingbuoyant. They decided that the grassy valley was almost uninfested bythings dangerous. They became reckless sometimes, and would work in thepit together. As a rule, though, they were cautious--this was an inherentand necessary quality of a cave being--and it was well for them that itwas so, for when an emergency came only one of them was in the pit, whilethe other was aloft in the lookout and alert. 

It was about three o'clock one afternoon when Ab, whose turn it chancedto be, was working valiantly in the pit, while Oak, all eyes, was perchedaloft. Suddenly there came from the treetop a yell which was no boyishexpression of exuberance of spirits. It was something which made Ab leapfrom the excavation as he heard it and reach the side of Oak as thelatter came literally tumbling down the bole of the tree of watching. 

"Run!" Oak said, and the two darted across the valley and reached theforest and clambered into safe hiding among the clustering branches. Then, in the intervals between his gasping breath, Oak managed to againarticulate a word:

"Look!" he said. 

Ab looked and, in an instant, realized how wise had been Oak's alarmingcry and how well it was for them that they were so distant from the clumpof trees so near the river. What he saw was that which would have madethe boys' fathers flee as swiftly had they been in their children'splace. Yet what Ab looked upon was only a waving, in sinuous regularity, of the rushes between the tree clump and the river and the lifting of ahead some ten or fifteen feet above the reed-tops. What had so alarmedthe boys was what would have disturbed a whole tribe of their kinsmen, even though they had chanced to be assembled, armed to the teeth withsuch weapons as they then possessed. What they saw was not of the common. Very rarely indeed, along the Thames, had occurred such an invasion. Thefather of Oak had never seen the thing at all, and the father of Ab hadseen it but once, and that many years before. It was the great serpent ofthe seas!

Safely concealed in the branches of a tree overlooking the little valley, the boys soon recovered their normal breathing capacity and were able toconverse again. Not more than a couple of minutes, at the utmost, hadpassed between their departure from their place of labor and theirestablishment in this same tree. The creature which had so alarmed themwas still gliding swiftly across the morass between the lowland and theriver. It came forward through the marsh undeviatingly toward the treeclump, the tall reeds quivering as it passed, but its approach indicatedby no sound or other token of disturbance. The slight bank reached, therewas uplifted a great serpent head, and then, without hesitation, themonster swept forward to the trees and soon hung dangling from thebranches of the largest one, its great coils twined loosely about trunkand limb, its head swinging gently back and forth just below the lowerbranch. It was a serpent at least sixty feet in length, and two feet ormore in breadth at its huge middle. It was queerly but not brilliantlyspotted, and its head was very nearly that of the anaconda of to-day. Already the sea-serpent had become amphibious. It had already acquiredthe knowledge it has transmitted to the anaconda, that it might leave thestream, and, from some vantage point upon the shore, find more surely avictim than in the waters of the sea or river. This monster serpent wasbut waiting for the advent of any land animal, save perhaps those sogreat as the mammoth or the great elk, or, possibly, even the cavebear or the cave tiger. The mammoth was, of course, an impossibility, even to the sea-serpent. The elk, with its size and vast antlers, was, toput it at the mildest, a perplexing thing to swallow. The rhinoceros wasdangerous, and as for the cave bear and the cave tiger, they wereuncomfortable customers for anything alive. But there were the cattle, the aurochs and the urus, and the little horses and deer, and wild hogand a score of other creatures which, in the estimation of thesea-serpent, were extremely edible. A tidbit to the serpent was a man, buthe did not get one in half a century. 

Not long did the boys remain even in a harborage so distant. Each fledhomeward with his story. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. 

It was with scant breath, when they reached their respective caves, thatthe boys told the story of the dread which had invaded the marsh-land. What they reported was no light event and, the next morning, theirfathers were with them in the treetop at the safe distance which thewooded crest afforded and watching with apprehensive eyes the movementsof the monster settled in the rugged valley tree. There was slightmovement to note. Coiled easily around the bole, just above where thebranches began, and resting a portion of its body upon a thick, extendinglimb, its head and perhaps ten or fifteen feet of its length swingingdownward, the great serpent still hung awaiting its prey, ready to launchitself upon any hapless victim which might come within its reach. Thatits appetite would soon be gratified admitted of little doubt. Profitingby the absence of the boys, who while at work made no effort to concealthemselves, groups of wild horses were already feeding in the lowlands, and the elk and wild ox were visible here and there. The group in thetreetop on the crest realized that it had business on hand. Thesea-serpent was a terror to the cave people, and when one appeared tohaunt the river the word was swiftly spread, and they gathered toaccomplish its end if possible. With warnings to the boys they leftbehind them, the fathers sped away in different directions, one up, theother down, the river's bank, Stripe-Face to seek the help of some of thecave people and One-Ear to arouse the Shell people, as they were called, whose home was beside a creek some miles below. Into the home of thelittle colony One-Ear went swinging a little later, demanding to see thehead man of the fishing village, and there ensued an earnest conversationof short sentences, but one which caused immediate commotion. To the hilldwellers the rare advent of a sea-serpent was comparatively a smallmatter, but it was a serious thing to the Shell folk. The sea-serpentmight come up the creek and be among them at any moment, ravaging theircommunity. The Shell people were grateful for the warning, but there werefew of them at home, and less than a dozen could be mustered to go withOne-Ear to the rendezvous. 

They were too late, the hardy people who came up to assail the serpent, because the serpent had not waited for them. The two boys roosting in thetreetop on the height had beheld what was not pleasant to look upon, forthey had seen a yearling of the aurochs enveloped by the thing, whichwhipped down suddenly from the branches, and the crushed quadruped hadbeen swallowed in the serpent's way. But the dinner which might sufficeit for weeks had not, in all entirety, the effect upon it which wouldfollow the swallowing of a wild deer by its degenerate descendants of theAmazonian or Indian forests. 

The serpent did not lie a listless mass, helplessly digesting the productof the tragedy upon the spot of its occurrence, but crawled away slowlythrough the reeds, and instinctively to the water, into which it slidwith scarce a splash, and then went drifting lazily away upon the currenttoward the sea. It had been years since one of these big water serpentshad invaded the river at such a distance from its mouth and never cameanother up so far. There were causes promoting rapidly the extinction oftheir dreadful kind. 

Three or four days were required before Ab and Oak realized, after whathad taken place, that there were in the community any more importantpersonages than they, and that they had work before them, if they were tocontinue in their glorious career. When everyday matters finally assertedthemselves, there was their pit not yet completed. Because of theirabsence, a greater aggregation of beasts was feeding in the littlevalley. Not only the aurochs, the ancient bison, the urus, the progenitorof the horned cattle of to-day, wild horse and great elk and reindeerwere seen within short distances from each other, but the big, hairyrhinoceros of the time was crossing the valley again and rioting in itsherbage or wallowing in the pools where the valley dipped downward to themarsh. The mammoth with its young had swung clumsily across the area ofrich feed, and, lurking in its train, eyeing hungrily and bloodthirstilythe mammoth's calf, had crept the great cave tiger. The monster cave bearhad shambled through the high grass, seeking some small food in defaultof that which might follow the conquest of a beast of size. The uncomelyhyenas had gone slinking here and there and had found something worthytheir foul appetite. All this change had come because the two boys, beingboys and full of importance, had neglected their undertaking for about aweek and had talked each in his own home with an air intended to beimposing, and had met each other with much dignity of bearing, at theirfavorite perching-place in the treetop on the hillside. When there cameto them finally a consciousness that, to remain people of magnitude inthe world, they must continue to do something, they went to work bravely. The change which had come upon the valley in their brief absence tendedto increase their confidence, for, as thus exhibited, early as was theage, the advent of the human being, young or old, somehow affected allanimate nature and terrified it, and the boys saw this. Not that thegreat beasts did not prey upon man, but then, as now, the man to thegreat beast was something of a terror, and man, weak as he was, knewhimself and recognized himself as the head of all creation. The mammoth, the huge, thick-coated rhinoceros, sabre-tooth, the monstrous tiger, orthe bear, or the hyena, or the loping wolf, or short-bodied and viciouswolverine were to him, even then, but lower creatures. Man felt himselfthe master of the world, and his children inherited the perception. 

Work in the pit progressed now rapidly and not a great number of dayspassed before it had attained the depth required. The boy at work wascompelled, when emerging, to climb a dried branch which rested againstthe pit's edge, and the lookout in the tree exercised an extra caution, since his comrade below could no longer attain safety in a moment. Butthe work was done at last, that is, the work of digging, and thereremained but the completion of the pitfall, a delicate though not adifficult matter. Across the pit, and very close together, were laidcriss-crosses of slender branches, brought in armfuls from the forest;over these dry grass was spread, thinly but evenly, and over this againdust and dirt and more grass and twigs, all precautions being observed togive the place a natural appearance. In this the boys succeeded verywell. Shrewd must have been the animal of any sort which could detect thetrap. Their chief work done, the boys must now wait wisely. The place wasdeserted again and no nearer approach was made to the pitfall than thetreetops of the hillside. There the boys were to be found every day, eager and anxious and hopeful as boys are generally. There was notoccasion for getting closer to the trap, for, from their distant perch, its surface was distinctly visible and they could distinguish if it hadbeen broken in. Those were days of suppressed excitement for the two;they could see the buffalo and wild horses moving here and there, butfortune was still perverse and the trap was not approached. Before itsoccupation by them, the place where they had dug had appeared thefavorite feeding-place; now, with all perversity, the wild horses andother animals grazed elsewhere, and the boys began to fear that they hadleft some traces of their work which revealed it to the wily beasts. Onone day, for an hour or two, their hearts were in their mouths. Thereissued from the forest to the westward the stately Irish elk. It movedforward across the valley to the waters on the other side, and, afterdrinking its fill, began feeding directly toward the tree clump. Itreached the immediate vicinity of the pitfall and stood beneath thetrees, fairly outlined against the opening beyond, and affordingto the almost breathless couple a splendid spectacle. A magnificentcreature was the great elk of the time of the cave men, the Irish elk, asthose who study the past have named it, because its bones have been foundso frequently in what are now the preserving peat bogs of Ireland. Butthe elk passed beyond the sight of the watchers, and so their brighthopes fell. 

The crispness of full autumn had come, one morning, when Ab and Oak metas usual and looked out across the valley to learn if anything hadhappened in the vicinity of the pitfall. The hoar frost, lying heavily onthe herbage, made the valley resemble a sea of silver, checkered andspotted all over darkly. These dark spots and lines were the traces ofsuch animals as had been in the valley during the night or toward earlymorning. Leading everywhere were heavy trails and light ones, telling thestory of the night. But very little heed to these things was paid by theardent boys. They were too full of their own affairs. As they swung intoplace together upon their favorite limb and looked across the valley, they uttered a simultaneous and joyous shout. Something had taken placeat the pitfall!

All about the trap the surface of the ground was dark and the area ofdarkness extended even to the little bank of the swamp on the riverside. Careless of danger, the boys dropped to the ground and, spears in hand, ran like deer toward the scene of their weeks of labor. Side by side theybounded to the edge of the excavation, which now yawned open to the sky. They had triumphed at last! As they saw what the pitfall held, theyyelled in unison, and danced wildly around the opening, in the veryheight of boyish triumph. The exultation was fully justified, for thepitfall held a young rhinoceros, a creature only a few months old, but sohuge already that it nearly filled the excavation. It was utterlyhelpless in the position it occupied. It was wedged in, incapable ofmoving more than slightly in any direction. Its long snout, with itssprouting pair of horns, was almost level with the surface of the groundand its small bright eyes leered wickedly at its noisy enemies. Itstruggled clumsily upon their approach, but nothing could relieve thehopelessness of its plight. 

All about the pitfall the earth was plowed in furrows and beaten down bythe feet of some monstrous animal. Evidently the calf was in the companyof its mother when it fell a victim to the art of the pitfall diggers. Itwas plain that the mother had spent most of the night about her young ina vain effort to release it. Well did the cave boys understand the signs, and, after their first wild outburst of joy over the capture, a sense ofthe delicacy, not to say danger, of their situation came upon them. Itwas not well to interfere with the family affairs of the rhinoceros. Where had the mother gone? They looked about, but could see nothing tojustify their fears. Only for a moment, though, did their sense of safetylast; hardly had the echo of their shouting come back from the hillsidethan there was a splashing and rasping of bushes in the swamp and therush of some huge animal toward the little ascent leading to the valleyproper. There needed no word from either boy; the frightened couplebounded to the tree of refuge and had barely begun clambering up itstrunk than there rose to view, mad with rage and charging viciously, themother of the calf rhinoceros. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

SABRE-TOOTH AND RHINOCEROS. 

The rhinoceros of the Stone Age was a monstrous creature, an animalvarying in many respects from either species of the animal of the presentday, though perhaps somewhat closely allied to the huge double-horned andnow nearly extinct white rhinoceros of southern Africa. But the brute ofthe prehistoric age was a beast of greater size, and its skin, instead ofbeing bare, was densely covered with a dingy colored, crinkly hair, almost a wool. It was something to be dreaded by most creatures even inthis time of great, fierce animals. It turned aside for nothing; it wasthe personification of courage and senseless ferocity when aroused. Rarely seeking a conflict, it avoided none. The huge mammoth, a morepeaceful pachyderm, would ordinarily hesitate before barring its path, while even the cave tiger, fiercest and most dreaded of the carnivora ofthe time, though it might prey upon the young rhinoceros when opportunityoccurred, never voluntarily attacked the full-grown animal. From thatalmost impervious shield of leather hide, an inch or more in thickness, protected further by the woolly covering, even the terrible strokes ofthe tiger's claws glanced off with but a trifling rending, while onesingle lucky upward heave of the twin horns upon the great snout wouldpierce and rend, as if it were a trifling obstacle, the body of anyanimal existing. The lifting power of that prodigious neck was somethingalmost beyond conception. It was an awful engine of death when itsopportunity chanced to come. On the other hand, the rhinoceros of thisancient world had but a limited range of vision, and was as dull-wittedand dangerously impulsive as its African prototype of today. 

But short-sighted as it was, the boys clambering up the tree were nearenough for the perception of the great beast which burst over thehummock, and it charged directly at them, the tree quivering when theshoulder of the monster struck it as it passed, though the boys, alreadyin the branches, were in safety. Checking herself a little distancebeyond, the rhinoceros mother returned, snorting fiercely, and beganwalking round and round the calf imprisoned in the pitfall. The boyscomprehended perfectly the story of the night. The calf once ensnared, the mother had sought in vain to rescue it, and, finally, wearied withher exertion, had retired just over the little descent, there to wallowand rest while still keeping guard over her imprisoned young. Thespectacle now, as she walked around the trap, was something which wouldhave been pitiful to a later race of man. The beast would get down uponher knees and plow the dirt about the calf with her long horns. She wouldseek to get her snout beneath its body sidewise, and so lift it, thougheach effort was necessarily futile. There was no room for any leverage, the calf fitted the cavity. The boys clung to their perches in safety, but in perplexity. Hours passed, but the mother rhinoceros showed noinclination to depart. It was three o'clock in the afternoon when shewent away to the wallow, returning once or twice to her young beforedescending the bank, and, even when she had reached the marsh, snortingquerulously for some time before settling down to rest. 

The boys waited until all was quiet in the marsh, and, as a matter ofprudence, for some time longer. They wanted to feel assured that themonster was asleep, then, quietly, they slid down the tree trunk and, with noiseless step, stole by the pitfall and toward the hillside. A fewyards further on their pace changed to a run, which did not cease untilthey reached the forest and its refuge, nor, even there, did they lingerfor any length of time. Each started for his home; for their adventurehad again assumed a quality which demanded the consideration of olderheads and the assistance of older hands. It was agreed that they shouldagain bring their fathers with them--by a fortunate coincidence each knewwhere to find his parent on this particular day--and that they shouldmeet as soon as possible. It was more than an hour later when the twofathers and two sons, the men armed with the best weapons they possessed, appeared upon the scene. So far as the watchers from the hillside coulddetermine, all was quiet about the clump of trees and the vicinity of thepitfall. It was late in the afternoon now and the men decided that thebest course to pursue would be to steal down across the valley, kill theimprisoned calf and then escape as soon as possible, leaving the motherto find her offspring dead; reasoning that she would then abandon it. Afterward the calf could be taken out and there would be a feast of cavemen upon the tender food and much benefit derived in utilization ofthe tough yet not, at its age, too thick hide of the uncommon quarry. There was but one difficulty in the way of carrying out this enterprise:the wind was from the north and blew from the hunters toward the river, and the rhinoceros, though lacking much range of vision, was as acute ofscent as the gray wolves which sometimes strayed like shadows through theforest or the hyenas which scented from afar the living or the dead. Still, the venture was determined upon. 

The four descended the hill, the two boys in the rear, treading with thelightness of the tiger cat, and went cautiously across the valley andtoward the tree trunk. Certainly no sound they made could have reachedthe ear of the monster wallowing below the bank, but the wind carried toits nostrils the message of their coming. They were not half way acrossthe valley when the rhinoceros floundered up to the level and chargedwildly along the course of the wafted scent. There was a flight for thehillside, made none too soon, but yet in time for safety. Walking aroundin circles, snorting viciously, the great beast lingered in the vicinityfor a time, then went back to its imprisoned calf, where it repeated theperformance of earlier in the day and finally retired again to its hiddenresting-place near by. It was dusk now and the shadows were deepeningabout the valley. 

The men, well up in the tree with the boys, were undetermined what to do. They might steal along to the eastward and approach the calf from anotherdirection without disturbing the great brute by their scent. But it wasbecoming darker every moment and the region was a dangerous one. In thevalley and away from the trees they were at a disadvantage and at nightthere were fearful things abroad. Still, they decided to take the risk, and the four, following the crest of the slight hill, moved along itscircle southeastward toward the river bank, each on the alert and eachwith watchful eyes scanning the forest depths to the left or the valleyto the right. Suddenly One-Ear leaped back into the shadow, waved hishand to check the advance of those behind him, then pointed silentlyacross the valley and toward the clump of trees. 

Not a hundred yards from the pitfall the high grass was swaying gently;some creature was passing along toward the pitfall and a thing of noslight size. Every eye of the quartet was strained now to learn whatmight be the interloper upon the scene. It was nearly dark, but the eyesof the cave men, almost nocturnal in their adaptation as they were, distinguished a long, dark body emerging from the reeds and circlingcuriously and cautiously around the pitfall; nearer and nearer itapproached the helpless prisoner until perhaps twenty feet distant fromit. Here the thing seemed to crouch and remain quiescent, but only for alittle time. Then resounded across the valley a screaming roar, so fierceand raucous and death-telling and terrifying that even the hardenedhunters leaped with affright. At the same moment a dark object shotthrough the air and landed on the back of the creature in the shallowpit. The tiger was abroad! There was a wild bleat of terror and agony, agrowl fiercer and shorter than the first hoarse cry of the tiger, and, then, for a moment silence, but only for a moment. Snorts, almost asterrible in their significance as the tiger's roar, came from themarsh's edge. A vast form loomed above the slight embankment and therecame the thunder of ponderous feet. The rhinoceros mother was chargingthe great tiger!

There was a repetition of the fierce snorts, with the wild rush of therhinoceros, another roar, the sound of which reechoed through the valley, and then could be dimly seen a black something flying through the air andalighting, apparently, upon the back of the charging monster. There was aconfusion of forms and a confusion of terrifying sounds, the snarlingroar of the great tiger and half whistling bellow of the great pachyderm, but nothing could be seen distinctly. That a gigantic duel was inprogress the cave men knew, and knew, as well, that its scene was oneupon which they could not venture. The clamor had not ended when thedarkness became complete and then each father, with his son, fled swiftlyhomeward. 

Early the next morning, the four were together again at the same point ofsafety and advantage, and again the frost-covered valley was a sea ofsilver, this time unmarred by the criss-crosses of feeding or huntinganimals. There was no sign of life; no creature of the forest or theplain was so daring as to venture soon upon the battlefield of therhinoceros and the cave tiger. Cautiously the cave men and their sonsmade their way across the valley and approached the pitfall. What wasrevealed to them told in a moment the whole story. The half-devoured bodyof the rhinoceros calf was in the pit. It had been killed, no doubt, bythe tiger's first fierce assault, its back broken by the first blow ofthe great forearm, or its vertebrae torn apart by the first grasp of thegreat jaws. There were signs of the conflict all about, but that it hadnot come to a deadly issue was apparent. Only by some accident could therhinoceros have caught upon its horns the agile monster cat, and only byan accident even more remote could the tiger have reached a vital part ofits huge enemy. There had been a long and weary battle--a mother creaturefighting for her young and the great flesh-eater fighting for his prey. But the combatants had assuredly separated without the death of either, and the bereaved rhinoceros, knowing her young one to be dead, hadfinally left the valley, while the tiger had returned to its prey and fedits fill. But there was much meat left. There were, in the estimation ofthe cave people, few more acceptable feasts than that obtainable from theflesh of a young rhinoceros. The first instinct of the two men was towork fiercely with their flint knives and cut out great lumps of meatfrom the body in the pit. Hardly had they begun their work, when, asby common impulse, each clambered out from the depression suddenly, andthere was a brief and earnest discussion. The cave tiger, monarch of thetime, was not a creature to abandon what he had slain until he haddevoured it utterly. Gorged though he might be, he was undoubtedly inhiding within a comparatively short distance. He would return againinevitably. He might be lying sleeping in the nearest clump of bushes! Itwas possible that his appetite might come upon him soon again and that hemight appear at any moment. What chance then for the human beings who hadventured into his dining-room? There was but one sensible course tofollow, and that was instant retreat. The four fled again to the hillsideand the forest, carrying with them, however, the masses of flesh alreadysevered from the body of the calf. There was food for a day or two foreach family. 

And so ended the first woodland venture of these daring boys. For daysthe vicinity of the little valley was not sought by either man or youth, since the tiger might still be lurking near. When, later, the youthsdared to visit the scene of their bold exploit, there were only bones inthe pitfall they had made. The tiger had eaten its prey and had gone toother fields. In later autumn came a great flood down the valley, risingso high that the father of Oak and all his family were driven temporarilyfrom their cave by the water's influx and compelled to seek anotherhabitation many miles away. Some time passed before the comrades metagain. 

As for Ab, this exploit might be counted almost as the beginning of hismanhood. His father--and fathers had even then a certain paternalpride--had come to recognize in a degree the vigor and daring of his son. The mother, of course, was even more appreciative, though to her firstbornshe could give scant attention, as Ab had the small brother in the cavenow and the little sister who was still smaller, but from this time theyouth became a person of some importance. He grew rapidly, and the sinewystripling developed, not increasing strength and stature and roundingbrawn alone, for he had both ingenuity and persistency of purpose, qualities which made him rather an exception among the cave boys of hisage. 

CHAPTER IX. 

DOMESTIC MATTERS. 

Attention has already been called to the fact that the family of Ab wereof the aristocracy of the region, and it should be added that theinterior of One-Ear's mansion corresponded with his standing in thecommunity. It was a fine cave, there was no doubt about that, and Red-Spotwas a notable housekeeper. As a rule, the bones remaining about thefire after a meal were soon thrown outside--at least they were neverallowed to accumulate for more than a month or two. The beds wereexcellent, for, in addition to the mass of leaves heaped upon the earthwhich formed a resting-place for the family, there were spread the skinsof various animals. The water privileges of the establishment wereextensive, for there was the river in front, much utilized for drinkingpurposes. There were ledges and shelves of rock projecting here and therefrom the sides of the cave, and upon these were laid the weapons andimplements of the household, so that, excepting an occasional bone uponthe earthen floor, or, perhaps, a spattering of red, where some animalhad been cut up for roasting, the place was very neat indeed. The factthat the smoke from the fire could, when the wind was right, ascendeasily through the roof made the residence one of the finest within alarge district of the country. As to light, it cannot be said that thehouse was well provided. The fire at night illuminated a small area and, in the daytime, light entered through the doorway, and, to an extent, through the hole in the cave's top, as did also the rains, but the lightwas by no means perfect. The doorway, for obvious reasons, was narrow andthere was a huge rock, long ago rolled inside with much travail, whichcould on occasion be utilized in blocking the narrow passage. Barely roomto squeeze by this obstruction existed at the doorway. The sneaking butdangerous hyena had a keen scent and was full of curiosity. The monsterbear of the time was ever hungry and the great cave tiger, though rarer, was, as has been shown, a haunting dread. Great attention was paid todoorways in those days, not from an artistic point of view exactly, butfrom reasons cogent enough in the estimation of the cave men. But thecave was warm and safe and the sharp eyes of its inhabitants, accustomedto the semi-darkness, found slight difficulty in discerning objects inthe gloom. Very content with their habitation were all the family andRed-Spot particularly, as a chatelaine should, felt much pride in hersurroundings. 

It may be added that the family of One-Ear was a happy one. His life withRed-Spot was the sequence of what might be termed a fortunate marriage. It is true that standards vary with times, and that the demeanor of thecouple toward each other was occasionally not what would be counted theindex of domestic felicity in this more artificial and deceptive age. Itwas never fully determined whether One-Ear or Red-Spot could throw astone ax with the greater accuracy, although certainly he could hurl onewith greater force than could his wife. But the deftness of each ineluding such dangerous missiles was about the same, and no great harm hadat any time resulted from the effects of momentary ebullitions of anger, followed by action on the part of either. There had not been at any timea scandal in the family. The pair were faithful to each other. Societywas somewhat scattered in those days, and the cave twain, anywhere, weregenerally as steadfast as the lion and the lioness. It was centurieslater, too, before the cave men's posterity became degenerate enough orprosperous enough, or safe enough, to be polygamous, and, so far as thearea of the Thames valley or even the entire "Paris basin, " as it iscalled, was concerned, monogamy held its own very fairly, from theshell-beds of the earliest kitchen-middens to the time of the bronze axand the dawn of what we now call civilization. 

There were now five members in this family of the period, One-Ear, Red-Spot, Ab, Bark and Beech-Leaf, the two last named being Ab's youngerbrother and little more than baby sister. The names given them had comein the same accidental way as had the name of Ab. The brother, when verysmall, had imitated in babyish way the barking of some wolfish creatureoutside which had haunted the cave's vicinity at night time, and so thename of Bark, bestowed accidentally by Ab himself, had become theyoungster's title for life. As to Beech-Leaf, she had gained her name inanother way. She was a fat and joyous little specimen of a cave baby andnot much addicted to lying as dormant as babies sometimes do. Thebearskin upon which her mother laid her had not infrequently proven toolimited an area for her exploits and she would roll from it into thegreat bed of beech leaves upon which it was placed, and become fairlylost in the brown mass. So often had this hilarious young lady to bedisinterred from the beech leaf bed, that the name given her camenaturally, through association of ideas. Between the birth of Ab and thatof his younger brother an interval of five years had taken place, thebirth of the sister occurring three or four years later. So it came thatAb, in the absence of his father and mother, was distinctly the head ofthe family, admonitory to his brother, with ideas as to the physicaldiscipline requisite on occasion, and, in a rude way, fond of andprotective toward the baby sister. 

There was a certain regularity in the daily program of the household, although, with reference to what was liable to occur outside, it canhardly be said to have partaken of the element of monotony. The work ofthe day consisted merely in getting something to eat, and in this workfather and mother alike took an active part, their individual dutiesbeing somewhat varied. In a general way One-Ear relied upon himself forthe provision of flesh, but there were roots and nuts and fruits, intheir season, and in the gathering of these Red-Spot was an admittedexpert. Not that all her efforts were confined to the fruits of the soiland forest, for she could, if need be, assist her husband in the pursuitor capture of any animal. She was not less clever than he in thatanimal's subsequent dissection, and was far more expert in its cooking. In the tanning of skins she was an adept. So it chanced that at this timethe father and mother frequently left the cave together in the morning, their elder son remaining as protector of the younger inmates. Whenoccasionally he went with his parents, or was allowed to venture forthalone, extra precautions were taken as to the cave's approaches. Justoutside the entrance was a stone similar to the one on the inside, andwhen the two young children were left unguarded this outside barricadewas rolled against what remained of the entrance, so that the smallpeople, though prisoners, were at least secure from dangerous animals. Of course there were variations in the program. There was that degree offellowship among the cave men, even at this early age, to allow of anoccasional banding together for hunting purposes, a battle of some sortor the surrounding and destruction of some of the greater animals. Atsuch times One-Ear would be absent from the cave for days and Ab and hismother would remain sole guardians. The boy enjoyed these occasionsimmensely; they gave him a fine sense of responsibility and importance, and did much toward the development of the manhood that was in him, increasing his self-reliance and perfecting him in the art of winning hisdaily bread, or what was daily bread's equivalent at the time in which helived. It was not in outdoor and physical life alone that he grew. Therewas something more to him, a combination of traits somewhere which madehim a little beyond and above the mere seeker after food. He was neverentirely dormant, a sleeper on the skins and beech leaves, even when inthe shelter of the cave, after the day's adventures. He reasonedaccording to such gifts as circumstances had afforded him and he had theinstinct of devising. An instinct toward devising was a great thing toits possessor in the time of the cave people. 

We know very well to-day, or think we know, that the influence of themother, in most cases, dominates that of the father in making the futureof the man-child. It may be that this comes because in early life theboy, throughout the time when all he sees or learns will be most clear inhis memory until he dies, is more with the woman parent than with theman, who is afield; or, it may be, there is some criss-cross law ofnature which makes the man ordinarily transmit his qualities to thedaughter and the woman transmit hers to the son. About that we do notknow yet. But it is certain that Ab was more like his mother than hisfather, and that in these young days of his he was more immediately underher influence. And Red-Spot was superior in many ways to the ordinarywoman of the cave time. 

It was good for the boy that he was so under the maternal dominion, andthat, as he lingered about the cave, he aided in the making of threads ofsinew or intestine, or looked on interestedly as his mother, using thebone needle, which he often sharpened for her with his flint scraper, sewed together the skins which made the garments of the family. Theneedle was one without an eye, a mere awl, which made holes through whichthe thread was pushed. As the growing boy lounged or labored near hismother, alternately helpful or annoying, as the case might be, he learnedmany things which were of value to him in the future, and resolved uponbrave actions which should be greatly to his credit. He was but a cub, ayoung being almost as unreasoning in some ways as the beasts of the wood, but he had his hopes and vanities, as has even the working beaver or thedancing crane, and from the long mother-talks came a degree ofdefiniteness of outline to his ambitions. He would be the greatest hunterand warrior in all the region!

The cave mother easily understood her child's increasing daringness andvigor, and though swift to anger and strong of hand, she could not butfeel a pride in and tell her tales to the boy beside her. After a time, when the family of Oak returned to the cave above and the boys were muchtogether again, the mother began to see less of her son. The influence ofthe days spent by her side remained with the boy, however, and much thathe learned there was of value in his later active life. 

CHAPTER X. 

OLD MOK, THE MENTOR. 

It was at about this time, the time when Ab had begun to develop fromboyhood into strong and aspiring youth, that his family was increasedfrom five to six by the addition of a singular character, Old Mok. Thispersonage was bent and seemingly old, but he was younger than he looked, though he was not extremely fair to look upon. He had a shock of grizzledhair, a short, stiff, unpleasant beard, and the condition of one of hislegs made him a cripple of an exaggerated type. He could hobble about andon great occasions make a journey of some length, but he was practicallydebarred from hunting. The extraordinary curvature of his twisted legwas, as usual in his time, the result of an encounter with some wildbeast. The limb curved like a corkscrew and was so much shorter than theother leg that the man was really safe only when the walls of a caveenclosed him. But if his legs were weak his brain and arms were not. Inthat grizzled head was much intelligence and the arms were those of agreat climber. His toes were clasping things and he was at home in atreetop. But he did not travel much. There was no need. Old Mok hadspecial gifts, and they were such as made him a desirable friend amongthe cave men. He had, in his youth, been a mighty hunter and had solearned that he could tell wonderfully the ways of beasts and swimmingthings and the ways of slaying or eluding them. Best of all, he was sucha fashioner of weapons as the valley had rarely known, and, because ofthis, was in great request as a cared-for inmate of almost any cave whichhit his fancy. After his crippling he had drifted from one haven toanother, never quite satisfied with what he found, and now he had come tolive, as he supposed, with his old friend, One-Ear, until life shouldend. Despite his harshness of appearance--and neither of the two couldever afterward explain it--there was something about the grim old manwhich commended him to Ab from the very first. There was an occasionaltwinkle in the fierce old fellow's eye and sometimes a certain cackle inhis clucking talk, which betokened not unkindliness toward a healthyyoungster, and the two soon grew together, as often the young and old maydo. 

Though but what might be called in one sense a dependent, the crippledhunter had a dignity and was arbitrary in the expression of his views. Never once, through all the thousands of years which have passed since hehobbled here and there, has lived an armorer more famous among those whoknew him best. No fashioner of sword, or lance, or coat of mail or plate, in the far later centuries, had better reputation than had Mok with hisfriends and patrons for the making of good weapons, though it may be thathis clientele was less numerous by hundreds to one than that of somelater manufacturer of a Toledo blade. He might be living partly as adependent, but he could do almost as he willed. Who should have standingif it were not accorded to the most gifted chipper of flint and carver ofmammoth tooth in all the region from where the little waters came down tomake a river, to where the blue, broad stream, blending with friendlycurrents, was lost in what is now the great North Sea?

A boy and an old man can come together closely, and that has, through allthe ages, been a good thing for each. The boy learns that which enableshim to do things and the man is happy in watching the development of oneof his own kind. Helping and advising Ab, and sometimes Oak as well, OldMok did not discourage sometimes reckless undertakings. In those dayschances were accepted. So when any magnificent scheme suggested itself tothe two youths, Ab at once sought his adviser and was not discountenanced. 

It was a great night in the cave when Ab brought home two fluffy graybundles not much larger than kittens and tied them in a corner withthongs of sinew, sinew so tough and stringy that it could not easily besevered by the sharp teeth which were at once applied to it. The fluffygray bundles were two young wolves, and were, for Ab, a great possession. They were not even brother and sister, these cubs, and had been gallantlycaptured by the two courageous rangers, Ab and Oak. For some time theboys had noted lurking shadows about a rugged height close by the river, some distance below the cave of Ab, and had resolved upon a closerinvestigation. A particularly ugly brute was the wolf of the cave man'stime, but one which, when not in pack, was unlikely to assail twowell-armed and sturdy youths in daylight; and the result of much cautiousspying was that they found two dens, each with young in them, and at atime when the old wolves were away. In one den Ab seized upon two of thesnarling cubs and Oak did the same in the other, and then the raidersfled with such speed as was in them, until they were at a safe distancefrom the place where things would not go well with them should the robbedparents return. Once in safe territory, each exchanged a cub for oneseized by the other and then each went home in triumph. Ab was especiallydelighted. He was determined to feed his cubs with the utmost care and tokeep them alive and growing. He was full of the fancy and delighted init, but he had assumed a great responsibility. 

[Illustration: AB SEIZED UPON TWO OF THE SNARLING CUBS AND OAK DID THESAME]

The cubs were tied in a corner of the cave and at once commanded theattention and unbounded admiration of Bark and Beech-Leaf. The young ladyespecially delighted in the little beasts and could usually be foundlying in the corner with them, the baby wolves learning in time to playwith her as if she were a wolf-suckled cub herself. Bark had almost thesame relations with the little brutes and Ab looked after them mostcarefully. Even the father and mother became interested in the antics ofthe young children and young wolves and the cubs became acknowledged, ifnot particularly respected, members of the family. But Ab's dream was toomuch for sudden realization. Not all at once could the wild thing becomea tame one. As the cubs grew and their teeth became longer and sharper, there was an occasional conflict and the arms of Bark and Beech-Leaf werescarred in consequence, until at last Ab, though he protested hardly, wascompelled to give up his pets. Somehow, he was not in the mood forkilling the half grown beasts, and so he simply turned them loose, butthey did not, as he had thought they would, flee to the forest. They hadknown almost no life except that of the cave, they had got their meatthere and, at night, the twain were at the doorway whining for food. Tothem were tossed some half-gnawed bones and they received them withjoyous yelps and snarls. Thenceforth they hung about the cave andretained, practically, their place in the family, oddly enough showingparticular animosity to those of their own kind who ventured near theplace. One day, the female was found in the cave's rear with four littlewhelps lying beside her, and that settled it! The family petted the younganimals and they grew up tamer and more obedient than had been theirfather and mother. Protected by man, they were unlikely to revert towildness. Members of the pack which grew from them were, in time, bestowed as valued gifts among the cave men of the region and much cameof it. The two boys did a greater day's work than they could comprehendwhen they raided the dens by the river's side. 

But there was much beside the capture of wolf cubs to occupy theattention of the boys. They counted themselves the finest bird hunters inthe community and, to a certain extent, justified the proud claim made. No youths could set a snare more deftly or hurl a stone more surely, andthere was much bird life for them to seek. The bustard fed in the vastnut forests, the capercailzie was proud upon the moors, where theheath-cock was as jaunty, and the willow grouse and partridge were wise incovert to avoid the hungry snowy owl. Upon the river and lagoons andcreeks the swan and wild goose and countless duck made constant clamor, and there were water-rail and snipe along the shallows. There were eggsto be found, and an egg baked in the ashes was a thing most excellent. Itwas with the waterfowl that the boys were most successful. The duckswould in their feeding approach close to the shores of the river banks orthe little islands and would gather in bunches so near to where the boyswere hidden that the young hunters, leaping suddenly to their feet andhurling their stones together, rarely failed to secure at least a singlevictim. There were muskrats along the banks and there was a great beaver, which was not abundant, and which was a mighty creature of his kind. Ofmuskrats the boys speared many--and roasted muskrat is so good that it iseaten by the Indians and some of the white hunters in Canada to-day--butthe big beaver they did not succeed in capturing at this stage of theircareer. Once they saw a seal, which had come up the river from the sea, and pursued it, running along the banks for miles, but it proved aselusive as the great beaver. 

But, as a matter of course, it was upon land that the greatest sport washad. There were the wild hogs, but the hogs were wary and the big boarsdangerous, and it was only when a litter of the young could be pouncedupon somewhere that flint-headed spears were fully up to the emergency. On such occasions there was fine pigsticking, and then the atmosphere inthe caves would be made fascinating with the odor of roasting suckling. There is a story by a great and gentle writer telling how a Chinamanfirst discovered the beauties of roast pig. It is an admirable tale andit is well that it was written, but the cave man, many tens of thousandsof years before there was a China, yielded to the allurements of youngpig, and sought him accordingly. 

The musk-ox, which still mingled with the animals of the river basin, wasalmost as difficult of approach as in arctic wilds to-day, as was a smallanimal, half goat, half antelope, which fed upon the rocky hillsides orwherever the high reaches were. There were squirrels in the trees, butthey were seldom caught, and the tailless hare which fed in the rivermeadows was not easily approached and was swift as the sea wind in itsflight, swifter than a sort of fox which sought it constantly. But theburrowing things were surer game. There were martens and zerboas, andmarmots and hedgehogs and badgers, all good to eat and attainable tothose who could dig as could these brawny youths. The game once driven toits hole, the clamshell and the sharpened fire-hardened spade-stick werebrought into use and the fate of the animal sought was rarely long indoubt. It is true that the scene lacked one element very noticeable whenboys dig out any animal to-day. There was not the inevitable andimportant dog, but the youths were swift of sight and quick of hand, andthe hidden creature, once unearthed, seldom escaped. One of the prizes ofthose feats of excavation was the badger, for not only was it edible, butits snow-white teeth, perforated and strung on sinew, made necklaceswhich were highly valued. 

The youths did not think of attacking many of the dangerous brutes. Theymight have risked the issue with a small leopard which existed then, orfaced the wildcat, but what they sought most was the wolverine, becauseit had fur so long and oddly marked, and because it was braver than otheranimals of its size and came more boldly to some bait of meat, affordingopportunity for fine spear-throwing. And, apropos of the wolverine, theglutton, as it is called in Europe, it is something still admired. It isa vicious, bloodthirsty, unchanging and, to the widely-informed andscientifically sentimental, lovable animal. It is vicious andbloodthirsty because that is its nature. It is lovable because, throughall the generations, it has come down just the same. The cave man knew itjust as it is now; the early Teuton knew it when "hides" of land were therewards of warriors. The Roman knew it when he made forays to the farnorth for a few centuries and learned how sharp were the blades of theRhine-folk and the Briton. The Druid and the Angle and Jute and Saxonknew it, and it is known to-day in all northern Europe and Asia andAmerica, in fact, in nearly all the northern temperate zone. Thewolverine is something wonderful; it laughs at the ages; its bones, foundside by side with those of the cave hyena, are the same as those found inits body as it exists to-day. It is an anomaly, an animal which does notadvance nor retrograde. 

The two big boys grew daily in the science of gaining food and grew moreand more of importance in their respective households. Sometimes eitherone of them might hunt alone, but this was not the rule. It was safer fortwo than one, when the forest was invaded deeply. But not all their timewas spent in evading or seeking the life of such living things as theymight discover. They had a home life sometimes as entertaining as thelife found anywhere outside. 

CHAPTER XI. 

DOINGS AT HOME. 

Those were happy times in the cave, where Ab, developing now into anexceedingly stalwart youth, found the long evenings about the fire farfrom monotonous. There was Mok, the mentor, who had grown so fond of him, and there was most interesting work to do in making from the dark flintnodules or obsidian fragments--always eagerly seized upon when discoveredby the cave people in their wanderings--the spearheads and rude knivesand skin scrapers so essential to their needs. The flint nodule was but asmall mass of the stone, often somewhat pear-shaped. Though apparently asolid mass, composed of the hardest substance then known, it lay in whatmight be called a series of flakes about a center, and, in wise hands, these flakes could be chipped or pried away unbroken. The flake, oncewon, was often slightly concave on the outside and convex on the other, but the core of the stone was something more equally balanced information and, when properly finished, made a mighty spearhead. For theheavy axes and mallets, other stones, such as we now call granite, redstone or quartose grit, were often used, but in the making of all theweapons was required the exercise of infinite skill and patience. To makethe flakes symmetrical demanded the nicest perception and judgment ofpower of stroke, for, with each flake gained, there resulted a new formto the surface of the stone. The object was always to secure a flake witha point, a strong middle ridge and sides as nearly edged as possible. Andin the striking off of these flakes and their finishing others of thecave men were to old Mok as the child is to the man. 

Ab hung about the old man at his work and was finally allowed to helphim. If, at first, the boy could do nothing else, he could, with hisflint scraper, work industriously at the smoothing of the long spearshafts, and when he had learned to do well at this he was at last allowedto venture upon the stone chipping, especially when into old Mok'spossession had come a piece of flint the quality of which he did notquite approve and for the ruining of which in the splitting he cared butlittle. 

There were disasters innumerable when the boy began and much bad stonewas spoiled, but he had a will and a good eye and hand, and it came, intime, that he could strike off a flake with only a little less ofdeftness than his teacher and that, even in the more delicate work of thefiner chipping to complete the weapon, he was a workman not to bedespised. He had an ambition in it all and old Mok was satisfied withwhat he did. 

The boy was always experimenting, ever trying a new flint chipper orusing a third stone to tap delicately the one held in the hand to makethe fracture, or wondering aloud why it would not be well to make thisflint knife a little thinner, or that spearhead a trifle heavier. He wasquestioning as he worked and something of a nuisance with it all, but oldMok endured with what was, for him, an astonishing degree of patience, and would sometimes comment grumblingly to the effect that the boy couldat least chip stone far better than some men. And then the veteran wouldlook at One-Ear, who was, notoriously, a bad flint worker, --though, aweapon once in his grasp, there were few could use it with surer eye orheavier hand--and would chuckle as he made the comment. As for One-Ear, he listened placidly enough. He was glad a son of his could make goodweapons. So much the better for the family!

As times went, Ab was a tolerably good boy to his mother. Nearly allyoung cave males were good boys until the time came when their thews andsinews outmatched the strength of those who had borne them, and this, beit said, was at no early age, for the woman, hunting and working with theman, was no maternal weakling whose buffet was unworthy of notice. A blowfrom the cave mother's hand was something to be respected and avoided. The use of strength was the general law, and the cave woman, though shewould die for her young, yet demanded that her young should obey heruntil the time came when the maternal instinct of first direction blendedwith and was finally lost in pride over the force of the being to whomshe had given birth. So Ab had vigorous duties about the household. 

As has been told already, Red-Spot was a notable housekeeper and therewas such product of the cave cooking as would make happy any gourmand ofto-day who could appreciate the quality of what had a most naturalflavor. Regarding her kitchen appliances Red-Spot had a matron'sjustifiable pride. Not only was there the wood fire, into which, held onlong, pointed sticks, could be thrust all sorts of meat for the somewhatsmoky broiling, and the hot coals and ashes in which could be roasted theclams and the clay-covered fish, but there was the place for boiling, which only the more fortunate of the cave people owned. Her growing sonhad aided much in the attainment of this good housewife's fond desire. 

With much travail, involving all the force the cave family could musterand including the assistance of Oak's father and of Oak himself, whorejoiced with Ab in the proceedings, there had been rolled into the cavea huge sandstone rock with a top which was nearly flat. Here was to bethe great pot, sometimes used as a roasting place, as well, which onlythe more pretentious of the caves could boast. On the middle of the bigstone's uppermost surface old Mok chipped with an ax the outline of arude circle some two feet in diameter. This defined roughly the size ofthe kettle to be made. Inside the circle, the sandstone must be dug outto a big kettle's proper depth, and upon the boy, Ab, must devolve mostof this healthful but not over-attractive labor. 

The boy went at the task gallantly, in the beginning, and pecked awaywith a stone chisel and gained a most respectable hollow within a day ortwo, but his enthusiasm subsided with the continuity of much effort withsmall result. He wanted more weight to his chisel of flint set firmly inreindeer's horn, and a greater impact to the blows into which could notbe put the force resulting from a swing of arm. He thought much. Then hesecured a long stick and bound his chisel strongly to it at one end, thetop of the chisel resting against a projecting stub of limb, so that itcould not be driven upward. To the other end of the stick he bound astone of some pounds in weight and then, holding the shaft with bothhands, lifted it and let the whole drop into the depression he hadalready made. The flint chisel bit deeply under the heavy impact and thedays were few before Ab had dug in the sandstone rock a cavity whichwould hold much meat and water. There was an unconscious celebration whenthe big kettle was completed. It was nearly filled with water, and intothe water were flung great chunks of the meat of a reindeer killed thatday. Meanwhile, the cave fire had been replenished with dry wood andthere had been formed a wide bed of coals, upon which were cast numerousstones of moderate size, which soon attained a shining heat. A sort oftongs made of green withes served to remove the stones, one afteranother, from the mass of coal, and drop them in with the meat and water. Within a little time the water was fairly boiling and soon there was amonster stew giving forth rich odors and ready to be eaten. And it wasnot allowed to get over-cool after that summoning fragrance had onceextended throughout the cave. There was a rush for the clam shells whichserved for soup dishes or cups, there was spearing with sharpened sticksfor pieces of the boiled meat, and all were satisfied, though there wasshrill complaint from Bark, whose turn at the kettle came late, and muchclamor from chubby Beech-Leaf, who was not yet tall enough to helpherself, but who was cared for by the mother. It may be that, to somepeople of to-day, the stew would be counted lacking in quality ofseasoning, but an opinion upon seasoning depends largely upon the stomachand the time, and, besides, it may be that the dirt clinging to thestones cast into the water gave a certain flavor as fine in its way ascould be imparted by salt and pepper. 

Old Mok, observing silently, had decidedly approved of Ab's device foreasier digging into sandstone than was the old manner of pecking awaywith a chisel held in the hand. He was almost disposed now to admit thebig lad to something like a plane of equality in the work they didtogether. He became more affable in their converse, and the youth was, inthe same degree, delighted and ambitious. They experimented with thestick and weight and chisel in accomplishing the difficult work ofsplitting from boulders the larger fragments of stone from which weaponswere to be made, and learned that by heavy, steady pressure of thebreast, thus augmented by heavy weight, they could fracture more evenlythan by blow of stone, ax or hammer. They learned that two could worktogether in stone chipping and do better work than one. Old Mok wouldhold the forming weapon-head in one hand and the horn-hafted chisel inanother, pressing the blade close against the stone and at just suchangle as would secure the result he sought, while Ab, advised as to theforce of each succeeding stroke, tapped lightly upon the chisel's head. Woe was it for the boy if once he missed his stroke and caught the oldman's fingers! Very delicate became the chipping done by these twoartists, and excellent beyond any before made were the axes andspearheads produced by what, in modern times, would have been known underthe title of "Old Mok & Co. "

At this time, too, Ab took lessons in making all the varied articles ofelk or reindeer horn and the drinking cups from the horns of urus andaurochs. Old Mok even went so far as to attempt teaching the youthsomething of carving figures upon tusks and shoulder blades, but in thisart Ab never greatly excelled. He was too much a creature of action. Thebone needles used by Red-Spot in making skin garments he could formreadily enough and he made whistles for Bark and Beech-Leaf, but hisinclinations were all toward larger things. To become a fighter and ahunter remained his chief ambition. 

Rather keen, with light snows but nipping airs, were the winters of thiscountry of the cave men, and there were articles of food essential tovariety which were, necessarily, stored before the cold season came. There were roots which were edible and which could be dried, and therewere nuts in abundance, beyond all need. Beechnuts and acorns weregathered in the autumn, the children at this time earning fully the rightof home and food, and the stores were heaped in granaries dug into thecave's sides. Should the snow at any time fall too deeply forhunting--though such an occurrence was very rare--or should any othercause, such, for instance, as the appearance of the great cave tiger inthe region, make the game scarce and hunting perilous, there was therecourse of nuts and roots and no danger of starvation. There was no fearof suffering from thirst. Man early learned to carry water in a pouch ofskin and there were sometimes made rock cavities, after the manner of thecave kettle, where water could be stored for an emergency. Besieging wildbeasts could embarrass but could not greatly alarm the family, for, withstore of wood and food and water, the besieged could wait, and it was notwell for the flesh-seeking quadruped to approach within a longspear-thrust's length of the cavern's narrow entrance. 

The winter following the establishment of Ab's real companionship withOld Mok, as it chanced, was not a hard one. There fell snow enough fortracking, but not so deeply as to incommode the hunter. There had been awonderful nut-fall in the autumn and the cave was stored with suchquantity of this food that there was no chance of real privation. The icewas clean upon the river and through the holes hacked with stone axesfish were dragged forth in abundance upon the rude bone and stone hooks, which served their purpose far better than when, in summer time, the linewas longer and the fish escaped so often from the barbless implements. Itwas a great season in all that made a cave family's life something easyand complacent and vastly promotive of the social amenities and theadvancement of art and literature--that is, they were not compelled tomake any sudden raid on others to assure the means of subsistence, andthere was time for the carving of bones and the telling of strangestories of the past. The elders declared it one of the finest wintersthey had ever known. 

And so Old Mok and Ab worked well that winter and the youth acquired suchwisdom that his casual advice to Oak when the two were out together wassomething worth listening to because of its confidence and ponderosity. Concerning flint scraper, drill, spearhead, ax or bone or wooden haft, there was, his talk would indicate, practically nothing for the boy tolearn. That was his own opinion, though, as he grew older, he learned tomodify it greatly. With his adviser he had made good weapons and someimprovements; yet all this was nothing. It was destined that anaccidental discovery should be his, the effect of which would be tochange the cave man's rank among living things. But the youth, just now, was greatly content with himself. He was older and more modest when hemade his great discovery. 

It was when the fire blazed out at night, when all had fed, when thetired people lay about resting, but not ready yet for sleep, and thestory of the day's events was given, that Old Mok's ordinarily stilltongue would sometimes loosen and he would tell of what happened when hewas a boy, or of the strange tales which had been told him of the timelong past, the times when the Shell and Cave people were one, times whenthere were monstrous things abroad and life was hard to keep. To allthese legends the hearers listened wonderingly, and upon them afterwardAb and Oak would sometimes speculate together and question as to theirtruth. 

CHAPTER XII. 

OLD MOK'S TALES. 

It was worth while listening to Old Mok when he forgot himself and talkedand became earnestly reminiscent in telling of what he had seen or hadheard when he was young. One day there had been trouble in the cave, forBark, left in charge, had neglected the fire and it had "gone out, " andupon the return of his parents there had been blows and harsh language, and then much pivotal grinding together of dry sticks before a new flamewas gained, and it was only after the odor of cooked flesh filled theplace and strong jaws were busy that the anger of One-Ear had abated andthe group became a comfortable one. Ab had come in hungry and the value offire, after what had happened, was brought to his mind forcibly. He laidhimself down upon the cave's floor near Old Mok, who was fashioning ashaft of some sort, and, as he lay, poked his toes at Beechleaf, whochuckled and gurgled as she rolled about, never for a moment relinquishinga portion of the slender shin bone of a deer, upon the flesh of which thefamily had fed. It was a short piece but full of marrow, and the childsucked and mumbled away at it in utmost bliss. Ab thought, somehow, of howpoor would have been the eating with the meat uncooked, and looked at hishands, still reddened--for it was he who had twisted the stick which madethe fire again. "Fire is good!" he said to Mok. 

The old man kept his flint scraper going for a moment or two before heanswered; then he grunted:

"Yes, it's good if you don't get burned. I've been burned, " and he thrustout an arm upon which appeared a cicatrice. 

Ab was interested. "Where did you get that?" he queried. 

"Far from here, far beyond the black swamp and the red hills that arefarther still. It was when I was strong. "

"Tell me about it, " said the youth. 

"There is a fire country, " answered Old Mok, "away beyond the swamp andwoods and the place of the big rocks. It is a wonderful place. The firecomes out of the ground in long sheets and it is always the same. The rainand the snow do not stop it. Do I not know? Have I not seen it? Did I notget this scar going too near the flame and stumbling and falling against ahot rock almost within it? There is too much fire sometimes!"

The old man continued: "There are many places of fire. They are to theeast and south. Some of the Shell People who have gone far down the riverhave seen them. But the one where I was burned is not so far away as they;it is up the river to the northwest. "

And Ab was interested and questioned Old Mok further about the strangeregion where flames came from the ground as bushes grow, and where snow orwater did not make them disappear. He was destined, at a later day, to bevery glad that he had learned the little that was told him. But to-nighthe was intent only on getting all the tales he could from the veteranwhile he was in the mood. "Tell about the Shell People, " he cried, "andwho they are and where they came from. They are different from us. "

"Yes, they are different from us, " said Old Mok, "but there was a time, Ihave heard it told, when we were like them. The very old men say thattheir grandfathers told them that once there were only Shell Peopleanywhere in this country, the people who lived along the shores and whonever hunted nor went far away from the little islands, because they wereafraid of the beasts in the forests. Sometimes they would venture into thewood to gather nuts and roots, but they lived mostly on the fish andclams. But there came a time when brave men were born among them who saidthey would have more of the forest things, and that they would no longerstay fearfully upon the little islands. So they came into the forest andthe Cave Men began. And I think this story true. "

"I think it is true, " Old Mok continued, "because the Shell People, youcan see, must have lived very long where they are now. Up and down thecreek where they live and along other creeks there lie banks of earthwhich are very long and reach far back. And this is not really earth, butis all made up of shells and bones and stone spearheads and the thingswhich lie about a Shell Man's place. I know, for I have dug into theselong banks myself and have seen that of which I tell. Long, very long, must the Shell People have lived along the creeks and shores to have madethe banks of bones and shells so high. "

And Old Mok was right. They talk of us as the descendants of an Aryanrace. Never from Aryan alone came the drifting, changing Western being ofto-day. But a part of him was born where bald plains were or where wereolive trees and roses. All modern science, and modern thoughtfulness, andall later broadened intelligence are yielding to an admission of the factthat he, though of course commingling with his visitors of the ages, wasborn and changed where he now exists. The kitchen-midden--the name givenby scientists to refuse from his dwelling places--the kitchen-middens ofDenmark, as Denmark is to-day, alone, regardless of other fields, sufficeto tell a wondrous story. Imagine a kitchen-midden, that is to say thedetritus of ordinary living in different ages, accumulated along the sideof some ancient water course, having for its dimensions miles in length, extending hundreds of yards back from the margin of this creek, of tensand tens of thousands of years ago, and having a depth of often many feetalong this water course. Imagine this vast deposit telling the history ofa thousand centuries or more, beginning first with the deposit of clamsand mussel shells and of the shells of such other creatures as mightinhabit this river seeking its way to the North Sea. Imagine this depositincreasing year after year and century by century, but changing itscharacter and quality as it rose, and the base is laid for reasoning. 

At first these creatures who ranged up and down the ancient Danish creekand devoured the clams and periwinkles must have been, as one might say, but little more than surely anthropoid. Could such as these have migratedfrom the Asiatic plateaus?

The kitchen-middens tell the early story with greater accuracy than couldany writer who ever lifted pen. Here the creek-loving, ape-like creaturesranged up and down and quelled their appetites. They died after they hadbegotten sons and daughters; and to these sons and daughters came an addedintelligence, brought from experience and shifting surroundings. Thekitchen-middens give graphic details. The bottom layer, as has been said, is but of shells. Above it, in another layer, counting thousands of yearsin growth, appear the cracked bones of then existing animals and appearalso traces of charred wood, showing that primitive man had learned whatfire was. And later come the rudely carved bones of the mammoth and woollyrhinoceros and the Irish elk; then come rude flint instruments, and laterthe age of smoothed stone, with all its accompanying fossils, bones andindications; and so on upward, with a steady sweep, until close to thesurface of this kitchen-midden appear the bronze spear, the axhead and therude dagger of the being who became the Druid and who is an ancestor whomwe recognize. From the kitchen-midden to the pinnacle of all that is greatto-day extends a chain not a link of which is weak. 

"They tell strange stories, too, the Shell People, " Old Mok continued, "for they are greater story-tellers than the Cave Men are, more of thembeing together in one place, and the old men always tell the tales to thechildren so that they are never forgotten by any of the people. They saythat once huge things came out of the great waters and up the creeks, suchas even the big cave tiger dare not face. And the old men say that theirgrandfathers once saw with their own eyes a monster serpent many times aslarge as the one you two saw, which came swimming up the creek and seizedupon the river horses there and devoured them as easily as the cave bearwould a little deer. And the serpent seized upon some of the Cave Peoplewho were upon the water and devoured them as well, though such as theywere but a mouthful to him. And this tale, too, I believe, for the oldShell Men who told me what their grandfathers had seen were not of thefoolish sort. "

"But of another sort of story they have told me, " Mok continued, "I thinklittle. The old men tell of a time when those who went down the river tothe greater river and followed it down to the sea, which seems to have noend, saw what no man can see to-day. But they do not say that theirgrandfathers saw these things. They only say that their grandfathers toldof what had been told them by their grandfathers farther back, of a storywhich had come down to them, so old that it was older than the great treeswere, of monstrous things which swam along the shores and which were notserpents, though they had long necks and serpent heads, because they hadgreat bodies which were driven by flippers through the water as the beavergoes with his broad feet. And at the same time, the old story goes, weregreat birds, far taller than a man, who fed where now the bustards and thecapercailzie are. And these tales I do not believe, though I have seenbones washed from the riversides and hillsides by the rains which musthave come from creatures different from those we meet now in the forestsor the waters. They are wonderful story-tellers, the old men of the ShellPeople. "

"And they tell other strange stories, " continued the old man. "They saythat very long ago the cold and ice came down, and all the people andanimals fled before it, and that the summer was cold as now the winter is, and that the men and beasts fled together to the south, and were there fora long time, but came back again as the cold and ice went back. They say, too, that in still later times, the fireplaces where the flames came outof great cracks in the earth were in tens of places where they are in onenow, and that, even in the ice time, the flames came up, and that the icewas melted and then ran in rivers to the sea. And these things I do notbelieve, for how can men tell of what there was so long ago? They are butthe gabblings of the old, who talk so much. "

Many other stories the veteran told, but what most affected Ab was hisaccount of the vale of fire. He hoped to see it sometime. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

AB'S GREAT DISCOVERY. 

It may be that never in what was destined to be a life of many changes wasAb happier than in this period of his lusty boyhood and early manhood, when there was so much that was new, when he was full of hope andconfidence and of ambition regarding what a mighty hunter and great man hewould become in time. As the years passed he was not less indefatigable inhis experiments, and the day came when a marvelous success followed one ofthem, although, like most inventions, it was suggested in the most trivialand accidental manner. 

It chanced one afternoon that Ab, a young man of twenty now, had returnedearly from the wood and was lying lazily upon the sward near the cave'sentrance, while, not far away, Bark and the still chubby Beechleaf wererolling about. The boy was teasing the girl at times and then doingsomething to amuse or awe her. He had found a stiff length of twig and wasengaged in idly bending the ends together and then letting them fly apartwith a snap, meanwhile advancing toward and threatening with the impactthe half-alarmed but wholly delighted Beechleaf. Tired of this, at last, Bark, with no particular intent, drew forth from the pouch in his skincloak a string of sinew, and drawing the ends of the strong twig somewhatnearly together, attached the cord to each, thus producing accidentally apetty bow of most rotund proportions. He found that the string twangedjoyously, and, to the delight of Beechleaf, kept twanging it for such timeas his boyish temperament would allow a single occupation. Then he pickedfrom the ground a long, slender pencil of white wood, a sliver, perhaps, from the making of a spear shaft, and began strumming with it upon thetaut sinew string. This made a twang of a new sort, and again the boy andgirl were interested temporarily. But, at last, even this variation ofamusement with the new toy became monotonous, and Bark ceased strummingand began a series of boyish experiments with his plaything. He put oneend of the stick against the string and pushed it back until the other endwould press against the inside of the twig, and the result would be ataut, new figure in wood and string which would keep its form even whenlaid upon the ground. Bark made and unmade the thing a time or two, andthen came great disaster. He had drawn the little stick, so held in theway we now call arrowwise, back nearly to the point where its head wouldcome inside the bent twig and there fix itself, when the slight thingescaped his hands and flew away. 

The quiet of the afternoon was broken by a piercing childish yell whichlacked no element of earnestness. Ab leaped to his feet and was by theyoungsters in a moment. He saw the terrified Beechleaf standing, screamingstill, with a fat arm outheld, from which dangled a little shaft of woodwhich had pierced the flesh just deeply enough to give it hold. Bark stoodlooking at her, astonished and alarmed. Understanding nothing of thecircumstances, and supposing the girl's hurt came from Bark's carelessflinging of sticks toward her, Ab started toward his brother to administerone of those buffets which were so easy to give or get among cavechildren. But Bark darted behind a convenient tree and there shrieked outhis innocence of dire intent, just as the boy of to-day so fluentlydefends himself in any strait where castigation looms in sight. He told ofthe queer plaything he had made, and offered to show how all had happened. 

Ab was doubtful but laughing now, for the little shaft, which had scarcelypierced the skin of Beechleaf's arm had fallen to the ground and thatyoung person's fright had given way to vengeful indignation and she wasdemanding that Bark be hit with something. He allowed the sinner to givehis proof. Bark, taking his toy, essayed to show how Beechleaf had beeninjured. He was the most unfortunate of youths. He succeeded but too well. The mimic arrow flew again and the sound that rang out now was not the cryof a child. It was the yell of a great youth, who felt a sudden andpoignant hurt, and who was not maintaining any dignity. Had Bark been assure of hand and certain of aim as any archer who lived in later centurieshe could not have sent an arrow more fairly to its mark than he sent thatadmirable sliver into the chest of his big brother. For a second theculprit stood with staring eyes, then dropped his toy and flew into theforest with a howl which betokened his fear of something little less thansudden death. 

Ab's first impulse was to pursue his sinful younger brother, but, afterthe first leap, he checked himself and paused to pluck away the thingwhich, so light the force that had impelled it, had not gone deeply in. Heknew now that Bark was really blameless, and, picking up the abandonedplaything, began its examination thoughtfully and curiously. 

The young man's instinct toward experiment exhibited itself as usual andhe put the splinter against the string and drew it back and let it fly ashe had seen Bark do--that promising sprig, by the way, being now engagedin peering from the wood and trying to form an estimate as to whether ornot his return was yet advisable. Ab learned that the force of the benttwig would throw the sliver farther than he could toss it with his hand, and he wondered what would follow were something like this plaything, thedevice of which Bark had so stumbled upon, to be made and tried on agreater scale. "I'll make one like it, only larger, " he said to himself. 

The venturesome but more or less diplomatic Bark had, by this time, emerged from the wood and was apprehensively edging up toward the placewhere Ab was standing. The older brother saw him and called to him to comeand try the thing again and the youngster knew that he was safe. Then thetwo toyed with the plaything for an hour or two and Ab became more andmore interested in its qualities. He had no definite idea as to itspossibilities. He thought only of it as a curious thing which should belarger. 

The next day Ab hacked from a low-limbed tree a branch as thick as hisfinger and about a yard in length, and, first trimming it, bent it as Barkhad bent the twig and tied a strong sinew cord across. It was a notdiscreditable bow, considering the fact that it was the first ever made, though one end was smaller than the other and it was rough of outline. Then Ab cut a straight willow twig, as long nearly as the bow, and beganrepeating the experiments of the day before. Never was man more astonishedthan this youth after he had drawn the twig back nearly to its head andlet it go!

So drawn by a strong arm, the shaft when released flew faster and fartherthan the maker of what he thought of chiefly as a thing of sport hadimagined could be possible. He had long to search for the headless arrowand when he found it he went away to where were bare open stretches, thathe might see always where it fell. Once as he sent it from the string itstruck fairly against an oak and, pointless as it was, forced itselfdeeply into the hard brown bark and hung there quivering. Then came to theyouth a flash of thought which had its effect upon the ages: "What ifthere had been a point to the flying thing and it had struck a reindeer orany of the hunted animals?"

He pulled the shaft from the tree and stood there pondering for a momentor two, then suddenly started running toward the cave. He must see OldMok!

The old man was at work and alone and the young man told him, somewhatexcitedly, why he had thus come running to him. The elder listened withsome patience but with a commiserating grin upon his face. He had heardyoung men tell of great ideas before, of a new and better way of diggingpits, or of fishing, or making deadfalls for wild beasts. But he listenedand yielded finally to Ab's earnest demand that he should hobble out intothe open and see with his own eyes how the strung bow would send theshaft. They went together to an open space, and again and again Ab showedto his old friend what the new thing would do. With the second shot therecame a new light into the eyes of the veteran hunter and he bade Ab run tothe cave and bring back with him his favorite spear. The young man wasback as soon as strong legs could bring him, and when he burst into theopen he found Mok standing a long spear's cast from the greatest of thetrees which stood about the opening. 

"Throw your spear at the tree, " said Mok. "Throw strongly as you can. "

Ab hurled the spear as the Zulu of later times might hurl his assagai, asstrongly and as well, but the distance was overmuch for spear throwingwith good effect, and the flint point pierced the wood so lightly that theweight of the long shaft was too great for the holding force and it sankslowly to the ground and pulled away the head. A wild beast struck by thespear at such distance would have been sorely pricked, but not hurtseriously. 

"Now take the plaything, " said Old Mok, "and throw the little shaft at thetree with that. "

Ab did as he was told, and, poor marksman with his new device, of coursemissed the big tree repeatedly, broad as the mark was, but when, at last, the bolt struck the hard trunk fairly there was a sound which told of thesharpness of the blow and the headless shaft rebounded back for yards. OldMok looked upon it all delightedly. 

"It may be there is something to your plaything, " he said to the youngman. "We will make a better one. But your shaft is good for nothing. Wewill make a straighter and stronger one and upon the end of it will put alittle spearhead, and then we can tell how deeply it will go into thewood. We will work. "

For days the two labored earnestly together, and when they came again intothe open they bore a stronger bow, one tapered at the end opposite thenatural tapering of the branch, so that it was far more flexible andsymmetrical than the one they had tried before. They had abundance of ashand yew and these remained the good bow wood of all the time of archery. And the shaft was straight and bore a miniature spearhead at its end. Thethought of notching the shaft to fit the string came naturally andinevitably. The bow had its first arrow. 

An old man is not so easily affected as a young one, nor so hopeful, butwhen the second test was done the veteran Mok was the wilder and moredelighted of the two who shot at the tree in the forest glade. He saw itall! No longer could the spear be counted as the thing with which to domost grievous hurt at a safe distance from whatever might be dangerous. With the better bow and straighter shaft the marksmanship improved; evenfor these two callow archers it was not difficult to hit at a distance ofa double spear's cast the bole of the huge tree, two yards in width atleast. And the arrow whistled as if it were a living thing, a hawk seekingits prey, and the flint head was buried so deeply in the wood that bothMok and Ab knew that they had found something better than any weapon thecave men had ever known!

There followed many days more of the eager working of the old man and theyoung one in the cave, and there was much testing of the new device, andfinally, one morning, Ab issued forth armed with his ax and knife, butwithout his spear. He bore, instead, a bow which was the best andstrongest the two had yet learned to fashion, and a sheaf of arrows slungbehind his back in a quiver made of a hollow section of a mammoth's legbone which had long been kicked about the cave. The two workers haddrilled holes in the bone and passed thongs through and made a woodenbottom to the thing and now it had found its purpose. The bow was rude, aswere the arrows, and the archer was not yet a certain marksman, though hehad practiced diligently, but the bow was stiff, at least, and the arrowshad keen heads of flint and the arms of the hunter were strong as was thebow. 

There was a weary and fruitless search for game, but late in the afternoonthe youth came upon a slight, sheer descent, along the foot of which ran ashallow but broad creek, beyond which was a little grass-grown valley, where were feeding a fine herd of the little deer. They were feeding inthe direction of the creek and the wind blew from them to the hunter, sothat no rumor of their danger was carried to them on the breeze. Abconcealed himself among the bushes on the little height and awaited whatmight happen. The herd fed slowly toward him. 

As the deer neared the creek they grouped themselves together about wherewere the greenest and richest feeding-places, and when they reached thevery border of the stream they were gathered in a bunch of half a hundred, close together. They were just beyond a spear's cast from the watcher, butthis was a test, not of the spear, but of the bow, and the mostinexperienced of archers, shooting from where Ab was hidden, must strikesome one of the beasts in that broad herd. Ab sprang to his feet and drewhis arrow to the head. The deer gathered for a second in affright, crowding each other before the wild bursting away together, and then thebow-string twanged, and the arrow sang hungrily, and there was the swiftthud of hundreds of light feet, and the little glade was almost silent. Itwas not quite silent, for, floundering in its death struggles, was asingle deer, through which had passed an arrow so fiercely driven that itsflint head projected from the side opposite that which it had entered. 

[Illustration: AB SPRANG TO HIS FEET, AND DREW HIS ARROW TO THE HEAD]

Half wild with triumph was the youth who bore home the arrow-strickenquarry, and not much more elated was he than the old man, who heard thestory of the hunt, and who recognized, at once far more clearly than theyounger one, the quality of the new weapon which had been discovered; thething destined to become the greatest implement both of chase and warfarefor thousands of years to come, and which was to be gradually improved, even by these two, until it became more to them than they could yetunderstand. 

But the lips of each of the two makers of the bow were sealed for thetime. Ab and Old Mok cherished together their mighty secret. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A LESSON IN SWIMMING. 

Ab and Oak, ranging far in their hunting expeditions, had, long since, formed the acquaintance of the Shell People, and had even partaken oftheir hospitality, though there was not much to attract a guest in theabodes of the creek-haunters. Their homes were but small caves, not muchmore than deep burrows, dug here and there in the banks, above high watermark, and protected from wild beasts by the usual heaped rocks, leavingonly a narrow passage. This insured warmth and comparative safety, but thehomes lacked the spaciousness of the caves and caverns of the hills, andthe food of fish and clams and periwinkles, with flesh and fruit butseldom gained, had little attraction for the occasional cave visitor. Aband Oak would sometimes traffic with the Shell People, exchanging somecreature of the land for a product of the water, but they made brief stayin a locality where the food and odors were not quite to their accustomedtaste. Yet the settlement had a slight degree of interest to them. Theyhad noted the buxom quality of some of the Shell maidens, and the two hadnow attained an age when a bright-eyed young person of the other sex wasagreeable to look upon. But there had been no love passages. Neither ofthe youths was yet so badly stricken. 

There came an autumn morning when Ab and Oak, who had met at daybreak, determined to visit the Shell People and go with them upon a fishingexpedition. The Shell People often fished from boats, and the boats wereexcellent. Each consisted of four or five short logs of the most buoyantwood, bound firmly together with tough withes, but the contrivance wasmore than a simple raft, because, at the bow, it had been hewed to apoint, and the logs had been so chosen that each curved upward there. Ithad been learned that the waves sometimes encountered could so more easilybe cleft or overridden. None of these boats could sink, and the man of thetime was quite at home in the water. It was fun for the young men whosetale is told here to go with the Shell People and assist in spearing fishor drawing them from the river's depths upon rude hooks, and the ShellPeople did not object, but were rather proud of the attendance ofrepresentatives of the hillside aristocracy. 

The morning was one to make men far older than these two most confidentand full of life. The season was late, though the river's waters were notyet cold. The mast had already begun to fall and the nuts lay thicklyamong the leaves. Every morning, and more regularly than it comes now, there was a spread of glistening hoar frost upon the lowlands and thelittle open lands in the forest and upon every spot not tree-protected. Atsuch times there appeared to the eyes of the cave people the splendor ofnature such as we now can hardly comprehend. It came most strikingly inspring and autumn, and was something wonderful. The cave men, probably, did not appreciate it. They were accustomed to it, for it was part of therecord of every year. Doubtless there came a greater vigor to them in thekeen air of the hoar frost time, doubtless the step of each was made morespringy and each man's valor more defined in this choice atmosphere. Temperate, with a wonderful keenness to it, was the climate of the caveregion in the valley of the present Thames. Even in the days of the cavemen, the Gulf Stream, swinging from the equator in the great warm currentalready formed, laved the then peninsula as it now laves the BritishIsles. The climate, as has been told, was almost as equable then as now, but with a certain crispness which was a heritage from the glacial epoch. It was a time to live in, and the two were merry on their journey in theglittering morning. 

The young men idled on their way and wasted an hour or two in vainattempts to approach a feeding deer nearly enough for effectivespear-throwing. They were late when, after swimming the creek, theyreached the Shell village and there learned that the party had alreadygone. They decided that they might, perhaps, overtake the fishermen, andso, with the hunter's easy lope, started briskly down the river bank. Theywere not destined to fish that day. 

Three or four miles had been passed and a straight stretch of the riverhad been attained, at the end of which, a mile away, could be seen theboats of the Shell People, to be lost to sight a moment later as theyswept around a bend. But there was something else in sight. Perchedcomfortably upon a rock, the sides of which were so precipitous that theyafforded a foothold only for human beings, was a young woman of the ShellPeople who had before attracted Ab's attention and something of hisadmiration. She was fishing diligently. She had been left by the fishingparty, to be taken up on their return, because, in the rush of watersabout the base of the rock, was a haunt of a small fish esteemedparticularly, and because the girl was one of the little tribe's adeptswith hook and line She raised her eyes as she heard the patter offootsteps upon the shore, but did not exhibit any alarm when she saw thetwo young men. The ordinary young woman of the Shell People did not worrywhen away from land. She could swim like an otter and dive like a loon, and of wild beasts she had no fear when she was thus safely bestowed awayfrom the death-harboring forest. The maiden on the rock was most serene. 

[Illustration: THE YOUNG MEN CALLED TO HER BUT SHE MADE NO ANSWER. SHE BUTFISHED AWAY DEMURELY]

The young men called to her, but she made no answer. She but fished awaydemurely, from time to time hauling up a flashing finny thing, which shecalmly bumped on the rock and then tossed upon the silvery heap, which hadalready assumed fair dimensions, close behind her. As Ab looked upon theyoung fisherwoman his interest in her grew rapidly and he was silent, though Oak called out taunting words and asked her if she could not talk. It was not this young woman, but another, who had most pleased Oak amongthe girls of the Shell People. 

It was not love yet with Ab, but the maiden interested him. He held nodefined wish to carry her away to a new home with him, but there arose afeeling that he wanted to know her better. There might, --he didn'tknow--be as good wives among the Shell maidens as among the well-runninggirls of the hills. 

"I'll swim to the rock!" he said to his companion, and Oak laughed loudly. 

Short time elapsed between decision and action in those days, and hardlyhad Ab spoken when he flung his fur covering into the hands of Oak, and, clad only in the clout about his hips, dropped, with a splash, into thewater. All this time the girl had been eyeing every motion closely. As thelittle waves rose laughingly about the man, she descended lightly from herperch and slid into the stream as easily and silently as a beaver mighthave done. And then began a chase. The girl, finding mid-current swiftly, was a full hundred yards ahead as Ab came fairly in her wake. 

A splendid swimmer was the stalwart young man of the hills. He had been inand out of water almost daily since early childhood, and, though there hadnever been a test, was confident that, among all the Shell People, therewas none he could not overtake, despite what he had heard and knew oftheir wonderful cleverness in the water. Were not his arms and legs longerand stronger than theirs and his chest deeper? He felt that he couldoutswim easily any bold fisherman among them, and as for this girl, hewould overtake her very quickly and draw her to the bank, and then therewould be an interview of much enjoyment, at least to him. His strong armswept the water back, and his strong legs, working with them, drove hisbody forward swiftly toward the brown object not very far ahead. Along thebank ran the laughing and shouting Oak. 

Yard by yard, Ab's mighty strokes brought him nearer the object of hispursuit. She was swimming breast forward, as was he--for that was his onlyway--she with a dog-like paddling stroke, and often she turned her head tolook backward at the man. She did not, even yet, appear affrighted, andthis Ab wondered at, for it was seldom that a girl of the time, thushunted, was not, and with reason, terrified. She, possibly, understoodthat the chase did not involve a real abduction, for she and her pursuerhad often met, but there was, at least, reason enough for avoiding tooclose contact on this day. She swam on steadily, and, as steadily, Abgained upon her. 

Down the long stretch of tumbling river, sweeping eastward between hilland slope and plain and woodland, went the chase, while the panting andcheering Oak, strong-legged and enduring as he was, barely kept pace withthe two heads he could see bobbing, not far apart now, in the tossingwaters. Ab had long since forgotten Oak. He had forgotten how it was thathe came to be thus swimming in the river. His thought was only what nowmade up an overmastering aim. He must reach and seize upon the girl beforehim!

Closer and closer, though she as much as he was aided by the swiftcurrent, the young man approached the girl. The hundred yards had lessenedinto tens and he could plainly see now the wake about her and theoccasional up-flip of her brown heels as she went high in her stroke. Henow felt easily assured of her and laughed to himself as he swept his armsbackward in a fiercer stroke and came so close that he could discern heroutline through the water. It was but a matter of endurance, he chuckledto himself. How could a woman outswim a man like him?

It was just at the time when this thought came that Ab saw the Shell girllift her head and turn it toward him and laugh--laugh recklessly, almostin his very face, so close together were they now. And then she taught himsomething! There was a dip such as the otter makes when he seeks thedepths and there was no longer a girl in sight! But this was only ademonstration, made in sheer audacity and blithesome insolence, for thebrown head soon appeared again some yards ahead and there was anothertwist of it and another merry laugh. Then the neat body turned upon itsside, and with quick outdriving legstrokes and the overhand and underhandpulling-forward which modern swimmers partly know, the girl shot aheadthrough the tiny white-capped waves and away from the swimmer so closebehind her, as to-day the cutter leaves the scow. From the river bank camea wild yelp, the significance of which, if analyzed, might have includedastonishment and great delight and brotherly derision. Oak was having agreat day of it! He was the sole witness of a swimming-match the like ofwhich was rare, and he was getting even with his friend for variousassumptions of superiority in various doings. 

Unexhausted and sturdy and stubborn, Ab was not the one to abandon hislong chase because of this new phase of things. He inhaled a great breathand made the water foam with his swift strokes, but as well might a wildgoose chase a swallow on the wing as he seek to overtake that brown streakon the water. It was wonderful, the manner in which that Shell girl swam!She was like the birds which swim and dive and dip, and know of nothingwhich they fear if only they are in the water far enough away from wherethere is the need of stalking over soil and stone. It was not that theShell girl was other than at home on land. She was quite at home there andreasonably fleet, but the creek and river had so been her element frombabyhood that the chase of the hill man had been, from the start, a sheerabsurdity. 

Ab lifted himself in the waters and gazed upon the dark spot far away, and, piqued and maddened, put forth all the swimming strength there wasleft in his brawny body. It seemed for a brief time that he was almostequal to the task of gaining upon what was little more than a dot upon thesurface far ahead. But his scant prospect of success was only momentary. The trifling spot in the distant drifts of the river seemed to havecertain ideas of its own. The speed of its course in the water did notabate and, in a moment, it was carried around the bend, and lost to sight. Ab drifted to the turn and saw, below, a girl clambering into safety amongthe rafts of the fishing Shell People. What she would tell them he did notknow. That was not a matter to be much considered. 

There was but one thing to be done and that was to reach the land andreturn to a life more strictly earthly and more comfortable. There isnothing like water for overcoming a young man's fancy for many things. Abswam now with a somewhat tired and languid stroke to the shore, where Oakawaited him hilariously. They almost came to blows that afternoon, andblows between such as they might have easily meant sudden death. But theywere not rivals yet and there was much to talk of good-naturedly, aftersome slight outflamings of passion on the part of Ab, and the two men weregood friends again. 

The sum of all the day was that there had been much exercise and fun, forOak at least. Ab had not caught the Shell girl, manfully as he hadstriven. Had he caught her and talked with her upon the river bank itmight have changed the current of his life. With a man so young and sturdyand so full of life the laughing fancy of a moment might have changed intoa stronger feeling and the swimming girl might have become a woman of thecave people, one not quite so equal by heritage to the task of breedinggood climbing and running and fighting and progressive beings as some girlof the hills. 

It matters little what might have happened had the outcome of the day'seffort been the reverse of what it was. This is but the account of therace and what the sequel was when Ab swam so far and furiously and well. It was his first flirtation. It was yet to come to him that he should bereally in love in the cave man's way. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE MAMMOTH AT BAY. 

It was late autumn, and a light snow covered the ground, when one day acave man, panting for breath, came running down the river bank and pausedat the cave of One-Ear. He had news, great news! He told his storyhurriedly, and then was taken into the cave and given meat, while Ab, seizing his weapons, fled downward further still toward the greatkitchen-midden of the Shell People. Just as ages and ages later, not farfrom the same region, some Scottish runner carried the fiery cross, Ab ranexultingly with the news it was his to bring. There must be an immediategathering, not only of the cave men, but of the Shell People as well, andgreat mutual effort for great gain. The mammoths were near the point ofthe upland!

The runner to the cave of One-Ear was a hunter living some miles to thenorth, upon a ledge of a broad forest-covered plateau terminating on thewest in a slope which ended in a precipice with more than a hundred feetof sheer descent to the valley below. On rare occasions a herd of mammothsinvaded the forest and worked itself toward the apex of the plateau, andthen word went all over the region, for it was an event in the history ofthe cave men. If but a sufficient force could be suddenly assembled, foodin abundance for all was almost certainly assured. The prize was somethingstupendous, but prompt action was required, and there might be tragedies. As bees hum and gather when their hive is disturbed, so did the ShellPeople when Ab burst in upon them and delivered his message. There wasrushing about and a gathering of weapons and a sorting out of men whoshould go upon the expedition. But little time was wasted. Within half anhour Ab was straining back again up the river toward his own abode, whilebehind him trailed half a hundred of the Shell People, armed in a wayeffective enough, but which, in the estimation of the cave men, waspreposterous. The spears of the Shell People had shafts of different woodand heads of different material from those of the cave men, and they usedtheir weapons in a different manner. Accustomed to the spearing of fish orof an occasional water beast, like a small hippopotamus, which stillexisted in the rivers of the peninsula, they always threw theirspears--though the cave people were experts with this as well--and, as alast resource in close conflict, they used no stone ax or mace, but simplyran away, to throw again from a distance, or to fly again, as conditionsmade advisable. But they were brave in a way--it was necessary that allwho would live must have a certain animal bravery in those days--andtheir numbers made them essential in the rare hunting of the mammoth. 

When the company reached the home of Ab they found already assembled therea score of the hill men, and, as the word had gone out in every direction, it was found, when the rendezvous was reached, which was the cave ofHilltop, the man living near the crest of the plateau, and the one who hadmade the first run down the river, that there were more than a hundred, counting all together, to advance against the herd and, if possible, drivethe great beasts toward the precipice. Among this hundred there was nonemore delighted than Ab and Oak, for, of course, these two had found eachother in the group, and were almost like a brace of dogs whining for thedanger and the hunt. 

Not lightly was an expedition against a herd of mammoths to be begun, evenby a hundred well-armed people of the time of the cave men. The mammothwas a monster beast, with perhaps somewhat less of sagaciousness than themodern elephant, but with a temper which was demoniacal when aroused, andwith a strength which nothing could resist. He could be slain only bystrategy. Hence the everlasting watch over the triangular plateau and thegathering of the cave and river people to catch him at a disadvantage. But, even with a drove feeding near the slope which led to the precipice, the cave men would have been helpless without the introduction of otherelements than their weapons and their clamor. The mammoth paid no moreattention to the cave man with a spear than to one of the little wildhorses which fed near him at times. The pygmy did not alarm him, but didthe pygmy ever venture upon an attack, then it was likely to be seized bythe huge trunk and flung against rock or tree, to fall crushed andmangled, or else it was trodden viciously under foot. From one thing, though, the mammoth, huge as he was, would flee in terror. He could notface the element of fire, and this the cave men had learned to theiradvantage. They could drive the mammoth when they dare not venture toattack him, and herein lay their advantage. 

Under direction of the veteran hunter, Hilltop, who had discovered thewhereabouts of the drove, preparations were made for the dangerousadvance, and the first thing done was the breaking off of dry roots of theoverturned pitch pines, and gathering of knots of the same trees, withlimbs attached, to serve as handles. These roots and knots, once lighted, would blaze for hours and made the most perfect of natural torches. Lengths of bark of certain other trees when bound together and lighted atone end burned almost as long and brightly as the roots and knots. Eachman carried an unlighted torch of one kind or another, in addition to hisweapons, and when this provision was made the band was stretched out in along line and a silent advance began through the forest. The herd ofmammoths was composed of nineteen, led by a monster even of his kind, andmen who had been watching them all night and during the forenoon said thatthe herd was feeding very near the edge of the wood, where it ended on theslope leading to the precipice. There was ice upon the slope and therewere chances of a great day's hunting. To cut off the mammoths, that is, to extend a line across the uprising peninsula where they were feeding, would require a line of not more than about five hundred yards in length, and as there were more than a hundred of the hunters, the line which couldbe formed would be most effective. Lighted punk, which preserved fire andgave forth no odor to speak of, was carried by a number of the men, andthe advance began. 

It had been an exhilarating scene when the cave men and Shell People firstassembled and when the work of gathering material for the torches was inprogress. So far was the gathering from the present haunt of the game thatcaution had been unnecessary, and there was talk and laughter and all theopen enjoyment of an anticipated conquest. The light snow, barely coveringthe ground, flashed in the sun, and the hunters, practically impervious tothe slight cold, were almost prankish in their demeanor. Ab and Oakespecially were buoyant. This was the first hunt upon the rocky peninsulaof either of them, and they were delighted with the new surroundings andeager for the fray to come. All about was talk and laughter, which becamegeneral with any slight physical disaster which came to one among thehunters in the climbing of some tree for a promising dead branch orfinding a treacherous hollow when assailing the roots of some upturnedpine. It was a brisk scene and a lively one, that which occurred thatcrisp morning in late autumn when the wild men gathered to hunt themammoth. All was brightness and jollity and noise. 

Very different, in a moment, was the condition when the hunters enteredthe forest and, extended in line, began their advance toward the hugeobjects of their search. The cave man, almost a wild beast himself in someof his ways, had, on occasion, a footfall as light as that of any animalof the time. The twig scarcely crackled and the leaf scarcely rustledbeneath his tread, and when the long line entered the wood the silence ofdeath fell there, for the hunters made no sound, and what slight sound thewoodland had before--the clatter of the woodpeckers and jays--was hushedby their advance. So through the forest, which was tolerably close, thedark line swept quietly forward until there came from somewhere a suddensignal, and with a still more cautious advance and contraction of the lineas the peninsula narrowed the quarry was brought in sight of all. 

Close to the edge of the slope, and separated by a slight open space fromthe forest proper, was an evergreen grove, in which the herd of monsterbeasts was feeding. A great bull, with long up-curling tusks, loomed abovethem all, and was farthest away in the grove. The hunters, hidden in theforest, lay voiceless and motionless until the elders decided upon a planof attack, and then the word was passed along that each man must fire historch. 

All along the edge of the wood arose the flashing of little flames. Thesegrew in magnitude until a line of fire ran clear across the wood, and themammoths nearest raised their trunks and showed signs of uneasiness. Thencame a signal, a wild shout, and at once, with a yell, the long line burstinto the open, each man waving his flaming torch and rushing toward thegrove. 

There was a chance--a slight one--that the whole herd might be stampeded, but this had rarely happened within the memory of the oldest hunter. Themammoth, though subject to panic, did not lack intelligence and when in agroup was conscious of its strength. As that yell ascended, the startledbeasts first rushed deeper into the grove and then, as the slope beyondwas revealed to them, turned and charged blindly, all save one, the greattusker, who was feeding at the grove's outer verge. They came on, greatmountains of flesh, but swerved as they met the advancing line of fire andweaved aimlessly up and down for a moment or two. Then a huge bull, stungby a spear hurled by one of the hunters and frantic with fear, plungedforward across the line and the others followed blindly. Three men werecrushed to death in their passage and all the mammoths were gone save thebig bull, who had started to rejoin his herd but had not reached it intime. He was now raging up and down in the grove, bewildered andtrumpeting angrily. Immediately the hunters gathered closer together andmade their line of fire continuous. 

The mammoth rushed out clear of the trees and stood looming up, amagnificent creature of unrivaled size and majesty. His huge tusks shoneout whitely against the mountain of dark shaggy hair. His small eyesblazed viciously as he raised his trunk and trumpeted out what seemedeither a hoarse call to his herd or a roar of agony over his strait. Heseemed for a moment as if about to rush upon the dense line of histormentors, but the flaming faggots dashed almost in his face by thereckless and excited hunters daunted him, and, as a spear lodged in histrunk, he turned with almost a shriek of pain and dashed into the groveagain. Close at his heels bounded the hundred men, yelling like demons andforgetting all danger in the madness of the chase. Right through the grovethe great beast crashed and then half turned as he came to the open slopebeyond. Running beside him was a daring youth trying in vain to pierce himin the belly with his flint-headed spear, and, as the mammoth came for themoment to a half halt, his keen eyes noted the pygmy, his great trunk shotdownward and backward, picked up the man and hurled him yards away againstthe base of a great tree, the body as it struck being crushed out of allsemblance to man and dropping to the earth a shapeless lump. But the firebehind and about the desperate mammoth seemed all one flame now, countlessspears thrown with all the force of strong arms were piercing his toughhide, and out upon the slope toward the precipice the great beast plunged. Upon his very flanks was the fire and about him all the stinging dangerfrom the half-crazed hunters. He lunged forward, slipped upon the smoothglacial floor beneath him, tried to turn again to meet his thronging foesand face the ring of flame, and then, wavering, floundering, movingwonderfully for a creature of his vast size, but uncertain as to foothold, he was driven to the very crest of the ledge, and, scrambling vainly, carrying away an avalanche of ice, snow and shrubs, went crashing to hisdeath, a hundred feet below!

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE FEAST OF THE MAMMOTH. 

To the right and left of the precipice the fall to the plain below wasmore gradual, and with exultant yells, the cave and Shell men rushed ineither direction, those venturing nearest the sheer descent going downlike monkeys, clinging as they went to shrubs and vines, while those whoran to where the drop was a degree more passable fairly tumbled downwardto the plain. In an incredibly short space of time absolute silenceprevailed in and about the grove where the scene had lately been sofiercely stirring. In the valley below there was wildest clamor. 

It was a great occasion for the human beings of the region. There was noquestion as to the value of the prize the hunters had secured. Neverbefore in any joint hunting expedition, within the memory of the oldestpresent, had followed more satisfactory result. The spoil was well worththe great effort that had been made; in the estimation of the time, perhaps worth the death of the hunters who had been killed. The huge beastlay dead, close to the base of the cliff. One great, yellow-white, curvedtusk had been snapped off and showed itself distinct upon the grass somefeet away from the mountain of flesh so lately animated. The sight was oneworth looking upon in any age, for, in point of grandeur of appearance, the mammoth, while not as huge as some of the monsters of reptilian times, had a looming impressiveness never surpassed by any beast on the earth'ssurface. Though prone and dead he was impressive. 

But the cave and Shell men were not so much impressed as they weredelighted. They had come into possession of food in abundance and therewould be a feast of all the people of the region, and, after that, abundant meat in many a hut and cave for many a day. The hunters werenoisy and excited. A group pounced upon the broken tusk--for a mammothtusk, or a piece of one, was a prize in a cave dwelling--and there wasprospect of a struggle, but grim voices checked the wrangle of those whohad seized upon this portion of the spoil and it was laid aside, to beapportioned later. The feast was the thing to be considered now. 

Again swift-footed messengers ran along forest paths and swam streams andthridded wood and thicket, this time to assemble, not the hunters alone, but with them all members of households who could conveniently and safelycome to the gathering of the morrow, when the feast of the mammoth wouldbe on. The messengers dispatched, the great carcass was assailed, and keenflint knives, wielded by strong and skillful hands, were soon separatingfrom the body the thick skin, which was divided as seemed best to theleaders of the gathering, Hilltop, the old hunter, for his specialservices, getting the chief award in the division. Then long slices of themeat were cut away, fires were built, the hunters ate to repletion andafterward, with a few remaining awake as guards, slept the sleep of thehealthy and fully fed. Not in these modern days would such preliminaryconsumption of food be counted wisest preparation for a feast on themorrow, but the cave and Shell men were alike independent of affections ofthe stomach or the liver, and could, for days in sequence, gorgethemselves most buoyantly. 

The morning came crisp and clear, and, with the morning, came from alldirections swiftly moving men and women, elated and hungry and expectant. The first families and all other families of the region were gathering forthe greatest social function of the time. The men of various householdshad already exerted themselves and a score or two of fires were burning, while the odor of broiling meat was fragrant all about. Hunter husbandsmet their broods, and there was banqueting, which increased as, hour afterhour, new groups came in. The families of both Ab and Oak were among thoseearly in the valley, Beechleaf and Bark, wide-eyed and curious, comingupon the scene as a sort of advance guard and proudly greeting Ab. Allabout was heard clucking talk and laughter, an occasional shout, and everthe cracking of stone upon the more fragile thing, as the monster'sroasted bones were broken to secure the marrow in them. 

There was hilarity and universal enjoyment, though the assemblage, almostby instinct, divided itself into two groups. The cave men and the Shellmen, while at this time friendly, were, as has been indicated, unlike inmany tastes and customs and to an extent unlike in appearance. The caveman, accustomed to run like the deer along the forest ways, or to avoidsudden danger by swift upward clambering and swinging along amongtreetops, was leaner and more muscular than the Shell man, and had in hiscountenance a more daring and confident expression. The Shell man wasshorter and, though brawny of build, less active of movement. He had spentmore hours of each day of his life in his rude raft-boat, or in walkingslowly with poised spear along creek banks, or, with bent back, diggingfor the great luscious shell-fish which made a portion of his food, thanhe had spent afoot and on land, with the smell of growing things in hisnostrils. The flavor of the water was his, the flavor of the wood the caveman's. So it was that at the feast of the mammoth the allies naturally andgood-naturedly became somewhat grouped, each person according to his kind. When hunger was satisfied and the talking-time came on, those with objectsand impulses the same could compare notes most interestedly. Constantlythe number of the feasters increased, and by mid-day there was a companyof magnitude. Much meat was required to feed such a number, but there weretons of meat in a mammoth, enough to defy the immediate assaults of a muchgreater assemblage than this of exceedingly healthy people. And the smokefrom the fires ascended and these rugged ones ate and were happy. 

But there came a time in the afternoon when even such feasters as wereassembled on this occasion became, in a measure, content, when this oneand that one began to look about, and when what might be called the socialamenities of the period began. Veterans flocked together, reminiscent offormer days when another mammoth had been driven over this same cliff; theyoung grouped about different firesides, and there was talk of feats ofstrength and daring and an occasional friendly grapple. Slender, sinewygirls, who had girls' ways then as now, ate together and looked aboutcoquettishly and safely, for none had come without their naturalguardians. Rarely in the history of the cave men had there been agathering more generally and thoroughly festive, one where good eating hadmade more good fellowship. Possibly--for all things are relative--therehas never occurred an affair of more social importance within thecenturies since. Human beings, dangerous ones, were merry and trustingtogether, and the young looked at each other. 

Of course Ab and Oak had been eating in company. They had riskedthemselves dangerously in the battle on the cliff, had escaped injury andwere here now, young men of importance, each endowed with an appetitecorresponding with the physical exertion of which he was capable and whichhe never hesitated to make. The amount either of those young men had eatenwas sufficient to make a gourmand, though of grossest Roman times, fairlysick with envy, and they were still eating, though, it must be confessed, with modified enthusiasm. Each held in his hand a smoking lump of fleshfrom some favored portion of the mammoth and each rent away an occasionalmouthful with much content. Suddenly Ab ceased mastication and stoodsilent, gazing intently at a not unpleasing object a few yards distant. 

Two girls stood together near a fire about which were grouped perhaps adozen people. The two were eating, not voraciously, but with an apparentdegree of interest in what they were doing, for they had not been amongthe early arrivals. It was upon these two that Ab's wandering glance hadfallen and had been held, and it was not surprising that he had become sointerested. Either of the couple was fitted to attract attention, though apair more utterly unlike it would be difficult to imagine. One was slightand the other the very reverse, but each had striking characteristics. 

They stood there, the two, just as two girls so often stand to-day, thehand of one laid half-caressingly upon the hip of the other. The beaming, broad one was chattering volubly and the slender one listening carelessly. The talking of the heavier girl was interrupted evenly by her mumbling ata juicy strip of meat. Her hunger, it was clear, had not yet beensatisfied, and it was as clear, too, that her companion had yet anappetite. The slender one was, seemingly, not much interested in theconversation, but the other chattered on. It was plain that she was a mostcontented being. She was symmetrical only from the point of view ofadmirers of the heavily built. She had very broad hips and muscular armsand was somewhat squat of structure. It is hesitatingly to be admitted ofthis young lady that, sturdy and prepossessing, from a practical point ofview, as she might be to the average food-winning cave man, she lacked acertain something which would, to the observant, place her at once in goodsociety. She was an exceedingly hairy young woman. She wore the usualcovering of skins, but she would have been well-draped, in moderatelytemperate weather, had the covering been absent. Either for fashion's sakeor comfort, not much weight of foreign texture in addition to her ownhirsute and, to a certain extent, graceful, natural garb, was needed. Shewas a female Esau of the time, just a great, good-hearted, strong andhonest cave girl, of the subordinate and obedient class which beganthousands of years before did history, one who recognized in the girl whostood beside her a stronger and dominating spirit, and who had beenreceived as a trusted friend and willing assistant. It is so to-day, evenamong the creatures which are said to have no souls, the dogs especially. But the girl had strength and a certain quick, animal intelligence. Shewas the daughter of a cave man living not far from the home of oldHilltop, and her name was Moonface. Her countenance was so broad andbeaming that the appellation had suggested itself in her jolly childhood. 

Very different from Moonface was the slender being who, having eaten astrip of meat, was now seeking diligently with a splinter for the marrowin the fragment of bone her father had tossed toward her. Her father wasHilltop, the veteran of the immediate region and the hero of the day, andshe was called Lightfoot, a name she had gained early, for not in all thecountry round about was another who could pass over the surface of theearth with greater swiftness than could she. And it was upon Lightfootthat Ab was looking. 

The young woman would have been fair to look upon, or at leastfascinating, to the most world-wearied and listless man of the presentday. She stood there, easily and gracefully, her arms and part of herbreast, above, and her legs from about the knees, below, showing clearlyfrom beneath her covering of skins. Her deep brown hair, knotted back witha string of the tough inner bark of some tree, hung upon the middle of herflat, in-setting back. She was not quite like any of the other girls abouther. Her eyes were larger and softer and there was more reflection andvariety of expression in them. Her limbs were quite as long as those ofany of her companions and the fingers and toes, though slenderer, werequite as suggestive of quick and strong grasping capabilities, but therewas, with all the proof of springiness and litheness, a certain roundingout. The strip of hair upon her legs below the knees was slight andsilken, as was also that upon her arms. Yet, undoubted leader in societyas her appearance indicated, quite aside from her father's standing, therewas in her face, with all its loftiness of air, a certain blithesomenesswhich was almost at variance with conditions. She was a most lovable youngwoman--there could be no question about that--and Ab had, as he lookedupon her for the first time, felt the fact from head to heel. He thoughtof her as like the leopard tree-cat, most graceful creature of the wood, so trim was she and full of elasticity, and thought of her, too, as helooked in her intelligent face, as higher in another way. He was somewhatawed, but he was courageous. He had, so far in life, but sought to getwhat he wanted whenever it was in sight. Now he was nonplussed. 

Presently Lightfoot raised her eyes and they met those of Ab. The youngpeople looked at each other steadily for a moment and then the glance ofthe girl was turned away. But, meanwhile, the man had recovered himself. He had been eating, absent-mindedly, a well-cooked portion of a greatsteak of the mammoth's choicest part. He now tore it in twain and watchedthe girl intently. She raised her eyes again and he tossed her a half ofthe smoking flesh. She saw the movement, caught the food deftly in onehand as it reached her, and looked at Ab and laughed. There was no mockmodesty. She began eating the choice morsel contentedly; the two were, ina manner, now made formally acquainted. 

The young man did not, on the instant, pursue his seeming advantage, theresult of an impulsive bravery requiring a greater effort on his part thanthe courage he had shown in conflict with many a beast of the forest. Hedid not talk to the young woman. But he thought to himself, while hisblood bubbled in his veins, that he would find her again; that he wouldfind her in the wood! She did not look at him more, for her people wereclustering about her and this was a great occasion. 

Ab was recalled to himself by a hoarse exclamation. Oak was looking at himfiercely. There was no other sound, but the young man stood gazing fixedlyat the place where the girl had just been lost amid the group about her. And Ab knew instinctively, as men have learned to know so well in all theyears, from the feeling which comes to them at such a time, that he had arival, that Oak also had seen and loved this slender creature of thehillside. 

There was a division of the mammoth flesh and hide and tusks. Ab struggledmanfully for a portion of one of the tusks, which he wanted for Old Mok'scarving, and won it at last, the elders deciding that he and Oak hadfought well enough upon the cliff to entitle them to a part of the honorof the spoil, and Oak opposing nothing done by Ab, though his looks wereglowering. Then, as the sun passed toward the west, all the peopleseparated to take the dangerous paths toward their homes. Ab and Oakjourneyed away together. Ab was jubilant, though doubtful, while the faceof Oak was dark. The heart of neither was light within him. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

THE COMRADES. 

Drifting away in various directions toward their homes the Cave and ShellPeople still kept in groups, by instinct. Social functions terminatedbefore dark and guests going and coming kept together for mutualprotection in those days of the cave bear and other beasts. But on the dayof the Feast of the Mammoth there was somewhat less than the usualprecaution shown. There were vigorous and well-armed hunters at hand byscores, and under such escort women and children might travel after duskwith a degree of safety, unless, indeed, the great cave tiger, Sabre-Tooth, chanced to be abroad, but he was more rarely to be met thanothers of the wild beasts of the time. When he came it was as athunderbolt and there were death and mourning in his trail. The marchthrough the forest as the shadows deepened was most watchful. There was akeen lookout on the part of the men, and the women kept their childrenwell in hand. From time to time, one family after another detached itselffrom the main body and melted into the forest on the path to its own cavenear at hand. Thus Hilltop and his family left the group in which were Aband Oak, and glances of fire followed them as they went. The two girls, Lightfoot and Moonface, had walked together, chattering like crows. Theyhad strung red berries upon grasses and had hung them in their hair andaround their necks, and were fine creatures. Lightfoot, as was her wont, laughed freakishly at whatever pleased her, and in her merry mood had anable second in her sturdy companion. There were moments, though, when eventhe irrepressible Lightfoot was thoughtful and so quiet that the girl whowas with her wondered. The greater girl had been lightly touched with thatunnamable force which has changed men and women throughout all the ages. The picture of Ab's earnest face was in her mind and would not depart. Shecould not, of course, define her own mood, nor did she attempt it. Shefelt within herself a certain quaking, as of fear, at the thought of him, and yet, so she told herself again and again, she was not afraid. All thetime she could see Ab's face, with its look of longing and possession, butwith something else in it, when his eyes met hers, which she could notname nor understand. She could not speak of him, but Moonface had upon herno such stilling influence. 

"They look alike, " she said. 

Lightfoot assented, knowing the girl meant Ab and Oak. "But Ab is tallerand stronger, " Moonface continued, and Lightfoot assented asindifferently, for, somehow, of the two she had remembered definitely oneonly. She became daring in her reflections: "What if he should want tocarry me to his cave?" and then she tried to run away from the thought andfrom anything and everybody else, leaping forward, outracing and leavingall the company. She reached her father's cave far ahead of the others andstood, laughing, at the entrance, as the family and Moonface, a guest forthe night, came trotting up. 

And Ab, the buoyant and strong, was not himself as he journeyed with thehomeward-pressing company. His mood changed and he dropped away from Oakand lagged in the rear of the little band as it wound its way through theforest. Slight time was needed for others to recognize his mood, and hewas strong of arm and quick of temper, as all knew well, and, so, he wassoon left to stalk behind in independent sulkiness. He felt a weight inhis breast; a fiery spot burned there. He was fierce with Oak because Oakhad looked at Lightfoot with a warm light in his eyes. He! when he shouldhave known that Ab was looking at her! This made rage in his heart; andsadness came, too, because he was perplexed over the girl. "How can I gether?" he mumbled to himself, as he stalked along. 

Meanwhile, at the van of the company there was noise and frolic. Assembledin force, they were for the hour free from dread of the haunting terror ofwild beasts, and, satisfied with eating, the Cave and Shell People were inone of the merriest moods of their lives, collectively speaking. The youngmen were especially jubilant and exuberant of demeanor. Their sport wasrough and dangerous. There were scuffling and wrestling and the morereckless threw their stone axes, sometimes at each other, always, it istrue, with warning cries, but with such wild, unconscious strength put inthe throwing that the finding of a living target might mean death. Ab, engrossed in thoughts of something far apart from the rude sport abouthim, became nervously impatient. Like the girl, he wanted to escape fromhis thoughts, and bounding ahead to mingle with the darting and swinginggroup in front, he was soon the swift and stalwart leader in theirfoolishly risky sport, the center of the whole commotion. One muscled manwould hurl his stone hatchet or strong flint-headed spear at a green treeand another would imitate him until a space in advance was covered and theword given for a rush, when all would race for the target, each strivingto reach it first and detach his own weapon before others came. It was amerry but too careless contest, with a chance of some serious happening. There followed a series of these mad games and the oldsters smiled as theyheard the sound of vigorous contest and themselves raced as they could, tokeep in close company with the stronger force. 

Ab had shown his speed in all his playing. Now he ran to the front andplucked out his spear, a winner, then doubled and ran back beside thepathway to mingle with the central body of travelers, having in mind onlyto keep in the heart and forefront of as many contests as possible. Therewas more shouting and another rush from the main body and, bounding asidefrom all, he ran to get the chance of again hurling his spear as well. Agreat oak stood in the middle of the pathway and toward it already a spearor two had been sent, all aimed, as the first thrower had indicated, at awhite fungus growth which protruded from the tree. It was a matter ofaccuracy this time. Ab leaped ahead some yards in advance of all andhurled his spear. He saw the white chips fly from the side of the fungustarget, saw the quivering of the spear shaft with the head deep sunken inthe wood, and then felt a sudden shock and pain in one of his legs. Hefell sideways off the path and beneath the brushwood, as the wild band, young and old, swept by. He was crippled and could not walk. He calledaloud, but none heard him amid the shouting of that careless race. Hetried to struggle to his feet, but one leg failed him and he fell back, lying prone, just aside from the forest path, nearly weaponless and theeasy prey of the wild beasts. What had hurt him so grievously was a spearthrown wildly from behind him. It had, hurled with great strength, strucka smooth tree trunk and glanced aside, the point of the spear striking theyoung man fairly in the calf of the leg, entering somewhat the boneitself, and shocking, for the moment, every nerve. The flint sides had cuta vein or two and these were bleeding, but that was nothing. The realdanger lay in his helplessness. Ab was alone, and would afford good eatingfor those of the forest who, before long, would be seeking him. The scentof the wild beast was a wonderful thing. The man tried to rise, then layback sullenly. Far in the distance, and growing fainter and fainter, hecould hear the shouts of the laughing spear-throwers. 

The strong young man, thus left alone to death almost inevitable, did notaltogether despair. He had still with him his good stone ax and his longand keen stone knife. He would, at least, hurt something sorely before hewas eaten, he thought grimly to himself. And then he pressed leavestogether on the cut upon his leg, and laid himself back upon the leavesand waited. 

He did not have to wait long. He had not thought to do so. How full thewoods were of blood-scenting and man-eating things none knew better thanhe. His ear, keen and trained, caught the patter of a distant approach. "Wolves, " he said to himself at first, and then "Hyenas, " for the step waspuzzling. He was perplexed. The step was regular, and it was not in theforest on either side, but was coming up the path. A terror came upon himand he had crawled deeper into the shades, when he noted that the stepsfirst ceased, and then that they wandered searchingly and uncertainly. Then, loud and strong, rang out a voice, calling his name, and it was thevoice of Oak! He could not answer for a moment, and then he cried outgladly. 

Oak had, in the forward-rushing group, seen Ab's hurt and fall, but hadthought it a trifling matter, since no outcry came from those behind, andso had kept his course away and ahead with the rest. But finally he hadnoted the absence of Ab and had questioned, and then--first telling someof his immediate companions that they were to lag and wait for him--hadstarted back upon a run to reach the place where he had last seen hisfriend. It was easy now to arrange wet leaves about Ab's crippling, butlittle more than temporary, wound. The two, one leaning upon the other andhobbling painfully, and each with weapons in hand, contrived, at last, toreach Oak's lingering and grumbling contingent. Ab was helped along by twoinstead of one then, and the rest was easy. When the pathway leading tohome was reached, Oak accompanied his friend, and the two passed the nighttogether. 

Ab, once on his own bed, with Oak couched beside him, was surprised tofind, not merely that his physical pain was going, but that the greaterone was gone. The weight and burning had left his breast and he was nolonger angry at Oak. He thought blindly but directly toward conclusions. He had almost wanted to kill Oak, all because each saw the charm of andwanted the possession of a slender, beautiful creature of their kind. Thensomething dangerous had happened to him, and this same Oak, his friend, the man he had wished to kill, had come back and saved his life. The sensewhich we call gratitude, and which is not unmingled with what we callhonor, came to this young cave man then. He thought of many things, worried and wakeful as he was, and perhaps made more acute of perceptionby the slight, exciting fever of his wound. 

He thought of how the two, he and Oak, had planned and risked together, oftheir boyish follies and failures and successes, and of how, in lateryears, Oak had often helped him, of how he had saved Oak's life once inthe river swamp, where quicksands were, of how Oak had now offset eventhat debt by carrying him away from certain ending amid wild beasts. Noone--and of the cave men he knew many--no one in all the careless, merryparty had missed him save Oak. He doubtless could not have told himselfwhy it was, but he was glad that he could repay it all and have thebalance still upon his side. He was glad that he had the secret of the bowand arrow to reveal. That should be Oak's! So it came that, late thatnight, when the fire in the cave had burned low and when one could notwisely speak above a whisper, Ab told Oak the story of the new weapon, ofhow it had been discovered, of how it was to be used and of all it was forhunters and fighters. Furthermore, he brought his best bow and best arrowsforth, and told Oak they were his and that they would practice together inthe morning. His astonished and delighted companion had little to say overthe revelation. He was eager for the morning, but he straightened out hislimbs upon the leafy mattress and slept well. So, somewhat later, did thehalf-feverish Ab. 

Morning came and the cave people were astir. There was brief though heartyfeeding and then Ab and Oak and Old Mok, to whom Ab had said much aside, went away from the cave and into the forest. There Oak was taught thepotency of the new weapon, its deadly quality and the safety of distanceit afforded its user. It was a great morning for all three, not exceptingthe stern and critical old teacher, when they thus met together in thewood and the secret of what two had found was so transmitted to another. As for Oak, he was fairly aflame with excitement. He was far from slow ofmind and he recognized in a moment the enormous advantage of the new wayof killing either the things they ate, or the things they dreaded most. Hecould scarcely restrain his eagerness to experiment for himself. Beforenoon had come he was gone, carrying away the bow and the good arrows. Ashe disappeared in the wood Ab said nothing, but to himself he thought:

"He may have all the bows and arrows he can make, but I will haveLightfoot myself!"

Ab and Mok started for the cave again, Ab, bow in hand and with readyarrow. There was a patter of feet upon leaves in the wood beside them andthen the arrow was fitted to the string, while Old Mok, strong-armed ifweak-legged, raised aloft his spear. The two were seeking no conflict withwild beasts today and were but defensive and alert. They were puzzled bythe sound their quick ears caught. "Patter, patter, " ever beside them, butdeep in the forest shade, came the sound of menacing followers of somesort. 

There was tension of nerves. Old Mok, sturdy and unconsciously fatalistic, was more self-contained than the youth at his side, bow-armed and withflint ax and knife ready for instant use. At last an open space wasreached across which ran the well-worn path. Now the danger must revealitself. The two men emerged into the glade, and, a moment later, therebounded into it gamboling and full of welcome, the wolf cubs, which hadplayed about the cave so long, who were now detached from their own kindand preferred the companionship of man. There was laughter then, and amore careless demeanor with the weapon borne. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

LOVE AND DEATH. 

Different from his former self became this young forester, Ab. He wasthinking of something other than wild beasts and their pursuit. Instinctively, the course of his hunting expeditions tended toward thenorthwest and soon the impulse changed to a design. He must look uponLightfoot again! Henceforth he haunted the hill region, and never keenerfor quarry or more alert for the approach of some dangerous animal was theeye of this woodsman than it was for the appearance somewhere of a slenderfigure of a cave girl. Neither game nor things to dread were numerous inthe vicinity of the home of Hilltop, for there one of the hardiest andwisest among hunters had occupied his cave for many years, and wild beastslearn things. So it chanced that Lightfoot could wander farther afieldthan could most girls of the time. Ab knew all this well, for the qualityof expert and venturesome old Hilltop was familiar to all the cave menthroughout a wide stretch of country. So Ab, somewhat shamefaced to hisown consciousness, hunted in a region not the best for spoil, and lookedfor a girl who might appear on some forest path, moderately safe from therush of any of the hungry man-eaters of the wood. 

But not all the time of this wild lover was wasted in haunting thepossible idling-places of the girl he wanted so. With love there had cometo him such sense and thoughtfulness as has come with earnest love tomillions since. What could he do with Lightfoot should he gain her? He wasbut a big, young fighting man and hunter, still sleeping, almost nightly, on one of the leaf beds in his father's cave. With a wife of his own hemust have a cave of his own. Compared with his first impulses toward thegirl, this was a new train of thought, and, as we recognize it to-day, anobler one. He wanted to care for his own. He wanted a cave fit for thereception of such a woman as this, to him, the sweetest and proudest ofall beings, Lightfoot, daughter of old Hilltop, of the wooded highlands. 

Far up the river, far beyond the home of Oak's father and beyond theshining marshlands and the purple heather reaches which made the foothillspleasant, extended to the river's bank a promontory, bold and picturesqueand clad heavily with the best of trees. It was a great stretch of land, where, in some of nature's grim work, the earth had been up-heaved andthere had been raised good soil for giant forests, and at the same timebeen made broad caverns to become future habitations of the creature knownas man. But the trees bore nuts and fruits, and such creatures as foundfood in nuts and fruits, and, later, such as loved rich herbage, came tothe forest in great numbers, and then followed such as fed upon theseagain, all the flesh eaters, to whom man was, as any other living thing, to be seized upon and devoured. The promontory, so rich in game and nutsand fruits, was, at the same time, the most dangerous in all the regionfor human habitation. There were deep, dry caves within its limits, but innone of them had a cave man yet ventured to make his home. It was towardthis promontory that the young man in love turned his eyes. Because othershad feared to make a home in this lone, high region should he also fear?There was food there in plenty and if there were chance of fighting inplenty, so much the better! Was he not strong and fleet; had he not thebest of spears and axes? Above all, had he not the new weapon which mademan far above the beasts? Here was the place for a home which should bethe best in all this region of the cave men. Here game and food of allkinds would be most abundant. The situation would demand a brave man and awoman scarcely less courageous, but would not he and the girl he wasdetermined to bring there meet all occasion? His mind was fixed. 

Ab found a cave, one clean and dry and opening out upon a slight treelessarea, and this he, lover-like, improved for the woman he had resolved tobring there, arranging carefully the interior of which must be a home. Hehad fancies such as lovers have exhibited from since the time when theplesiosaurus swashed away in the strand of a warm sea a hollow nursery forthe birth and first tending of the young of his odd kind, up to the latertime when men have squandered fortunes on the sleeping rooms of women theyhave loved. He toiled for many days. With his ax he chipped away thecavern's sharp protuberances at each side, and with the stone chips fromthe walls and with what he brought from outside, he made the floor whiteand clean and nearly level. He built a fireplace and chipped into a hugestone, which, fortunately, lay inside the cave, a hollow for holdingdrinking water, or for the boiling of meat. He built up a passage-way atthe entrance, allowing something but not too much more than his own width, as the gauge for measurement of its breadth. He brought into the cave adeep carpet of leaves and made a wide bed in one corner and this hecovered with furred skins, for many skins Ab owned in his own right. Then, with a thick fragment of tough branch as a lever, he rolled a big stonenear the cave's entrance and left it ready to be occupied as a home. Thewoman was still lacking. 

There came a day when Ab, impatient after his searching and waiting, butyet resolute, had killed a capercailzie--the great grouse-like bird of thetime, the descendants of which live to-day in northern forests--and hadbuilt a fire and feasted, and then, instinctively careful, had climbed tothe first broad, low branch of an enormous tree and there adjusted himselfto sleep the sleep of one who has eaten heartily. He lay with the bigbranch for a bed, supported on either side by green, upspringing twigs, and slept well for an hour or two and then awoke, lazy and listless, butwith much good to him from the repast and rest. It was not yet very latein the afternoon and the sun still shone kindly upon him, as upon a wholeworld of rejoicing things. Something like a reflection of the life of themorning was beginning to manifest itself, as is ever the way where forestsand wild things are. The wonderful noise of wood life was renewed. As theyoung man awakened, he felt in every pulse the thrilling powers ofexistence. Everything was fair to look upon. His ears took in the sound ofthe voices of birds, already beginning vesper songs, though the afternoonwas yet so early as scarcely to hint of evening, and the scent from athousand plants and flowers, permeating and intoxicating, reached hissenses as he lounged sprawlingly upon his safe bed aloft. 

It was attractive, the scene which Ab looked upon. The forest was in allthe glory of summer and nesting and breeding things were happy. There wasthe fullness of the being of trees and plants and of all birds and beasts. There was a soft commingling of sounds which told of the life about, theeffect of which was, somehow, almost drowsy in the blending of alltogether. The great ferns waved gently along the hollows as the slightbreeze touched them. They were queer, those ferns. They were not quite soslender and tapering and gothic as the ferns we see to-day. They were atrifle more lush and ragged, and their tips were sometimes almost rounded. But Ab noted little of fern or bird. It was only the general sensuousnessthat was upon him. The smell of the pines was a partial tonic to thehealthy, half-awakened man, and, though he lay back upon the rugged woodenbed and half dozed again, nature had aroused him a trifle beyond the pointof relapse into absolute, unknowing slumber. There was coming to him asharpness of perception which affected the quiescence of his enjoyment. Herose to a sitting posture and looked about him. At once his eyes flashed, every nerve and muscle became tense and the blood leaped turbulently inhis veins. He had seen that for which he had come into this region, thegirl who had so reached his rude, careless heart. Lightfoot was very nearhim!

The girl, all unconscious, was sitting upon the trunk of a fallen treewhich lay close beside a creek. There was an abundance of small pebblesupon the little strand and the young lady was absent-mindedly engaged inan occupation in which, to the observer, she took some interest, whileshe, no doubt, was really thinking of something else. She sat there, slender, beautiful and excelling, in her way, the belle of the period, merely amusing herself. Her toes were charming toes. There could be nodebate on that point, for, while long and strong and flexible, they had acertain evenness and symmetry. They were being idly employed just now. Atthe creek's edge, half imbedded in the ground, uprose the crest of agranite stone. Picking up pebble after pebble in her admirable toes, Lightfoot was engaged in throwing them, one after another, at theoutstanding point of granite, utilizing in the performance only those toesand the brown leg below the knee. She did exceedingly well and hit thered-brown target often. Ab, hot-headed and fierce lover in the tree top, looked on admiringly. How perfect of form was she; how bright the face!and then, forgetting himself, he cried aloud and slid from the branch aseasily and swiftly as any serpent and started running toward the girl. Hemust have her!

With his cry, the girl leaped to her feet, and as he reached the ground, recognized him on the instant. She knew in the same instant that they hadfelt together and that it was not by accident that he was near her. Shehad felt as he; so far as a woman may feel with a man; but maidens aremaidens, and sweet lightness dreads force, and a modified terror came uponher. She paused for a moment, then turned and ran toward the uplandforest. 

Not a moment hesitating or faltering as affected by the girl's action wasthe young man who had tumbled from the tree bed. The blood dancing withinhim and the great natural impulse of gaining what was greatest to him inlife controlled him now. He was hot with fierce lovingness. He ran well, but he did not run better than the graceful thing before him. 

Even for the critical being of the great cities of to-day, the one who"manages" races of all sorts, it would have been worth while to see thisrace in the forest. As the doe leaps, scarcely touching the ground, ranLightfoot. As the wolf or hound runs, less swift for the moment, buttireless, ran the man behind her. Yet of all the men in the cave region, this flying girl wanted most this man to take her! It was the maidenlyforce-dreading instinct alone which made her run. 

Ab, dogged and enduring, lost no space as the race led away toward thehill and home of the fleet thing ahead of him. There were miles to becovered, and therein he had hope. They were on the straight path toHilltop's cave, though there were divergent, curving side paths almost asavailable; but to avoid her pursuer, the fugitive could take none ofthese. There were cross-cuts everywhere. In leaving the direct path shewould but lose ground. To reach soon enough by straight, clean running thetowering wooded hill in which was her father's cave seemed the only hopeof the half-unwilling fugitive. 

There were descents and ascents in the long chase and plateaus where therunning was on level ground. Straining forward, gaining little, butconfident of overtaking the girl, Ab, deep-chested and physicallyuntroubled, pressed onward, when he noted that the girl made a suddenspurt and bounded forward with a speed not shown before, while, at thesame time, she swerved from the right of the path. 

It was not Ab who had made her swerve. Some new alarm had come to her. Shewas about to reach and, as Ab supposed, pass one of the inletting pathsentering almost at right angles from the left. She did not pass it. Sheleaped into it in evident terror and then, breaking out from the wood onthe right, came another form and one surely in swift following. Ab knewthe figure well. Oak was the new pursuer!

The awful rage which rose in the heart of Ab as he saw what was happeningis what can no more be described than one can tell what a tiger in thejungle thinks. He saw another--the other his friend--pursuing andintending to take what he wanted to be his and what had become to him morethan all else in the world; more than much eating and the skins of thingsto keep him warm, more than a mammoth's tooth to carve, more than theglorious skin of the great cave tiger, the possession of which made a rudenobility, more than anything and all else! He leaped aside from the path. He knew well the other path upon which were running Oak and Lightfoot. Heknew that he could intercept them, because, though the running was not sogood, the distance to be covered was much less, for to him path runningwas a light matter. In the wood he ran as easily and leaped as well andattained a point almost as quickly as the beasts. There was a stress ofeffort and, as the shadows deepened, he burst in upon the cross path wherehe knew were the fleeing Lightfoot and following Oak. He had thought tohead them off, but Ab was not the only man who was swift of foot in thecave country. They passed, almost as he bounded from the forest. He sawthem close together not many yards ahead of him and, with a shout of rage, bent himself in swift and terrible pursuit again. 

It was all plain to Ab now as he flew along, unnoted by the two ahead ofhim. He knew that Oak had, like him, determined to own Lightfoot, and hadlike him, been seeking her. Only chance had made the chase thus crossOak's path; but that made no difference. There must be a grim meetingsoon. Ab could see that the endurance of the wonderfully fleet-footedwoman was not equal to that of the man so near her. She would soon beovertaken. Before her rose the hill, not a mile in its slope, where wereher father's cave, and safety. He knew that she had not the strength tobreast it fleetly enough for covert. And, as he looked, he saw the girlturn a frightened face toward her close pursuer and knew that she saw himas well. Her pace slackened for a moment as this revelation came to her, and he felt, somehow, that in him she recognized comparative protection. Then she recovered herself and bent all the power she had toward theascent. But Oak had been gaining steadily, and now, with a sudden rush, hereached her and grasped her, the woman shrieking wildly. A moment later Abrushed in upon them with a shout. Instinctively Oak released the girl, forin the cry he heard that which meant menace and immediate danger. AsLightfoot felt herself free she stood for a moment or two without amovement, with wide-open eyes, looking upon what was happening before her. Then she bounded away, not looking backward as she ran. 

[Illustration: AB STOOD THERE WEAPONLESS, A CREATURE WANDERING OF MIND]

The two men stood there glaring at each other, Oak perched, and yet notperched, so broad and perfect was his foothold, on the crest of a slightshelf of the downward slope. There stood the two men, poised, the oneabove, the other below, two who had been as close together from childhoodas all the attributes of mind and body might allow, and yet now as farapart as human beings may be. They were beautiful in a way, each in hismurderous, unconscious posing for the leap. The sun hit the blue ax of Oakand made it look a gray. The raised ax of Ab, which was of a lightercolored stone, was in the shade and its yellowness was darkened intobrown. The spectacle lasted for but a second. As Oak leaped Ab boundedaside and they stood upon a level, a tiny plateau, and there was fierce, strong fencing. One could not note its methods; even the keen-eyedwolverine, crouching low upon an adjacent monster limb, could never havefollowed the swift movements of these stone axes. The dreadful play wasbrief. The clash of stone together ceased as there came a duller sound, which told that stone had bitten bone. Oak, slightly the higher of thetwo, as they stood thus in the fray, leaned forward suddenly, his armsaloft, while from his hand dropped the blue ax. He floundered downuncouthly and grasped the beech leaves with his hands, and then lay still. Ab stood there weaponless, a creature wandering of mind. His yellow ax hadparted from his hand, sunk deeply into the skull of Oak, and he lookedupon it curiously and vacantly. He was not sane. He stepped forward andpulled the ax away and lifted it to a level with his eyes and went towhere the sunlight shone. The ax was not yellow any more. Meanwhile a girlwas flitting toward her home and the shadows of the waning day weredeepening. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

A RACE WITH DREAD. 

Ab looked toward the forest wherein Lightfoot had fled and then lookedupon that which lay at his feet. It was Oak--there were the form andfeatures of his friend--but, somehow, it was not Oak. There was too muchsilence and the blood upon the leaves seemed far too bright. His ragedeparted, and he wanted Oak to answer and called to him, but Oak did notanswer. Then came slowly to him the idea that Oak was dead and that thewild beasts would that night devour the dead man where he lay. The thoughtnerved him to desperate, sudden action. He leaped forward, he put his armsabout the body and carried it away to a hollow in the wooded slope. Heworked madly, doing some things as he had seen the cave people do at otherburyings. He placed the weapons of Oak beside him. He took from his belthis own knife, because it was better than that of Oak, and laid it closeto the dead man's hand, and then, first covering the body with beechleaves, he worked frantically upon the overhanging soil, prying it downwith a sharp-pointed fragment of limb, and tossing in upon all as heavystones as he could lift, until a great cairn rose above the hunter whowould hunt no more. 

Panting with his efforts, Ab sat himself down upon a rock and looked uponthe monument he had raised. Again he called to Oak, but there was still noanswer. The sun had set, evening shadows thickened around him. Then therecame upon the live man a feeling as dreadful as it was new, and, with ayell, which was almost a shriek, he leaped to his feet and bounded away infearful flight. 

He only knew this, that there was something hurt his inside of body andsoul, but not the inside of him as it had been when once he had eatenpoisonous berries or when he had eaten too much of the little deer. It wassomething different. It was an awful oppression, which seemed to leave hisbody, in a manner, unfeeling but which had a great dread about it andwhich made him think and think of the dead man, and made him want to runaway and keep running. He had always run far that day, but he was nottired now. His legs seemed to have the hard sinews of the stag in them butup toward the top of him was something for them to carry away as fast andfar as possible from somewhere. He raced from the dense woodland down intothe broad morass to the west--beyond which was the rock country--and intowhich he had rarely ventured, so treacherous its ways. What cared he now!He made great leaps and his muscles and sinews responded to the thought ofhim. To cross that morass safely required a touch on tussocks and anupbounding aside, a zig-zag exhibition of great strength and knowingnessand recklessness. But it was unreasoning; it was the instinct begotten oflong training and, now, of the absence of all nervousness. Each taut toetouched each point of bearing just as was required above the quagmire, and, all unperceiving and uncaring, he fled over dirty death as easily ashe might have run upon some hardened woodland pathway. He did not thinknor know nor care about what he was doing. He was only running away fromthe something he had never known before! Why should he be running now? Hehad killed things before and not cared and had forgotten. Why should hecare now? But there was the something which made him run. And where wasOak? Would Oak meet him again and would they hunt together? No, Oak wouldnot come, and he, this Ab, had made it so! He must run. No one wasfollowing him--he knew that--but he must run!

The marsh was passed, night had fallen, but he ran on, pressing into thebear and tiger haunted forest beyond. Anything, anything, to make himforget the strange feeling and the thing which made him run! He plungedinto a forest path, utterly reckless, wanting relief, a seeker forwhatever might come. 

In that age and under such conditions as to locality it was inevitablethat the creature, man, running through such a forest path at night, mustface some fierce creature of the carnivora seeking his body for food. Ab, blinded of mood, cared not for and avoided not a fight, though it might bewith the monster bear or even the great tiger. There was no reason in hismadness. He was, though he knew it not, a practical suicide, yet one whowould die fighting. What to him were weight and strength to-night? What tohim were such encounters as might come with hungry four-footed things? Itwould but relieve him were some of the beasts to try to gain his life andeat his body. His being seemed valueless, and as for the wild beasts--andhere came out the splendid death-facing quality of the cave man--well, itwould be odd if there were not more deaths than one! But all this wasvague and only a minor part of thought. 

Sometimes, as if to invite death, he yelled as he ran. He yelled wheneverin his fleeting visions he saw Oak lying dead again. So ran the man whohad killed another. 

There was a growl ahead of him, a sudden breaking away of the bushes, andthen he was thrown back, stunned and bleeding, because a great paw hadsmitten him. Whatever the beast might be, it was hungry and had found whatseemed easy prey. There was a difference, though, which the animal, --itwas doubtless a bear--unfortunately for him, did not comprehend, betweenthe quality of the being he proposed to eat just now and of other animalsincluded in his ordinary menu. But the bear did not reason; he but plungedforward to crush out the remaining life of the runner his great paw haddriven back and down and then to enjoy his meal. 

The man was little hurt. His skin coat had somewhat protected him and hissinewy body had such toughness that the hurling of it backward for a fewfeet was not anything involving a fatality. Very surely and suddenly hadbeen thrust upon him now the practical lesson of being or dying, and itwas good for the half-crazed runner, for it cleared his mind. But it madehim no less desperate or careless. With strength almost maniacal he leapedat what he would have fled from at any other time, and, swinging his axwith the quickness of light, struck tremendously at the great loweringhead. He yelled again as he felt stone cut and crash into bone, thoughhimself swept aside once more as a great paw, sidestruck, hurled him intothe bushes. He bounded to his feet and saw something huge and dark andgasping floundering in the pathway. He thought not but ran on panting. Bysome strange freak of forest fortune abetting might the man wandering ofmind had driven his ax nearly to the haft into the skull of his hugeassailant. It may be that never before had a cave man, thus armed, done sowell. The slayer ran on wildly, and now weaponless. 

Soon to the runner the scene changed. The trees crowded each other lessclosely and there was less of denned pathway. There came something of anascent and he breasted it, though less swiftly, for, despite the impellingforce, nature had claims, and muscles were wearying of their work. Fewerand fewer grew the trees. He knew that he was where there was now a sweepof rocky highlands and that he was not far from the Fire Country, of whichOld Mok had so often told him. He burst into the open, and as he came outunder the stars, which he could see again, he heard an ominous whine, toonear, and a distant howl behind him. A wolf pack wanted him. 

He shuddered as he ran. The life instinct was fully awakened in him now, as the dread from which he had run became more distant. Had he heard thatclose whine and distant howl before he fairly reached the open he wouldhave sought a treetop for refuge. Now it was too late. He must run aheadblindly across the treeless space for such harborage as might come. Farahead of him he could see light, the light of fire, reaching out towardhim through the darkness. He was panting and wearied, but the soundsbehind him were spur enough to bring the nearly dead to life. He bowed hishead and ran with such effort as he had never made before in all his wildand daring existence. 

The wolves of the time, greater, swifter and fiercer than the gaunt graywolves of northern latitudes and historic times, ran well, but so didcontemporaneous man run well, and the chase was hard. With his life tosave, Ab swept panting over the rocky ground with a swiftness begotten ofthe grand last effort of remaining strength, running straight toward thelight, while the wolf pack, now gathered, hurled itself from the woodbehind and followed swiftly and relentlessly. Ever before the man shonethe light more brightly; ever behind him became more distinct the soundmade by the following pack. It was a dire strait for the running man. Hewas no longer thinking of what he had lately done. He ran. 

[Illustration: WITH A GREAT LEAP HE WENT AT AND THROUGH THE CURLING CRESTOF THE YELLOW FLAME]

The light he had seen extended as he neared it into what looked like agreat fence of flame lying across his way. There were gaps in the fencewhere the flame, still continuous, was not so high as elsewhere. He didnot hesitate. He ran straight ahead. Closer and closer behind him crowdedthe pursuing wolves, and straight at the flame he ran. There was onechance in many, he thought, and he took it without hesitation. Closebefore him now loomed the wall of flame. Close behind him slavering jawswere working in anticipation, and there was a strain for the last rush. There was no alternative. Straight at the fire wall where it was lowestrushed Ab, and with a great leap he went at and through the curling crestof the yellow flame!

The man had found safety! There was a moment of heat and then he knewhimself to be sprawling upon green turf. A little of the strength ofdesperation was still with him and he bounded to his feet and lookedabout. There were no wolves. Beside him was a great flat rock, and heclambered upon this, and then, over the crest of the flames could seeeasily enough the glaring eyes of his late pursuers. They were running upand down, raging for their prey, but kept from him beyond all peradventureby the fire they could not face. Ab started upright on the rock pantingand defiant, a splendid creature erect there in the firelight. 

Soon there came to the man a more perfect sense of his safety. He shoutedaloud to the flitting, snarling creatures, which could not harm him now;he stooped and found jagged stones, which he sent whirling among them. There was a savage satisfaction in it. 

Suddenly the man fell to the ground, fairly groaning with exhaustion. Nature had become indignant and the time for recuperation had beenreached. The wearied runner lay breathing heavily and was soon asleep. Theflames which had afforded safety gave also a grateful warmth in the chillnight, and so it was that scarcely had his body touched the ground when hebecame oblivious to all about him, only the heaving of the broad chestshowing that the man lying fairly exposed in the light was a living thing. The varying wind sometimes carried the sheet of flame to its utmost extenttoward him, so that the heat must have been intense, and again would carryit in an opposite direction while the cold air swept down upon thesleeping man. Nothing disturbed him. Inured alike to heat and cold, Abslept on, slept for hours the sleep which follows vast strain andendurance in a healthy human being. Then the form lying on the groundmoved restlessly and muttered exclamations came from the lips. The man wasdreaming. 

For as the sleeper lay there--he remembered it when he awoke and wonderedover it many times in after years--Oak sprang through the flames, as hehimself had done, and soon lay panting by his side. The lapping of thefire, the snapping and snarling of the wolves beyond and the familiarsound of Oak's voice all mingled confusedly in his ears, and then he andOak raced together over the rough ground, and wrestled and fought andplayed as they had wrestled and fought and played together for years. Andthe hours passed and the wind changed and the flames almost scorched himand Ab started up, looking about him into the wild aspect of the FireCountry; for the night had passed and the sun had risen and set againsince the exhausted man had fallen upon the ground and become unconscious. 

Ab rolled instinctively a little away from the smoky sheets of flame and, sitting up, looked for Oak. He could not see him. He ran wildly aroundamong the rocks looking for him and despairingly called aloud his name. The moment his voice had been hoarsely lifted, "Oak!" the memory of allthat had happened rushed upon him. He stood there in the red firelight astatue of despair. Oak was dead; he had killed Oak, and buried him withhis own hands, and yet he had seen Oak but a minute ago! He had boundedthrough the flames and had wrestled and run races with Ab, and they hadtalked together, and yet Oak must be lying in the ground back there in theforest by the little hill. Oak was dead. How could he get out of theground? Fear clutched at Ab's heart, his limbs trembled under him. Hewhimpered like a lost and friendless hound and crouched close to thehospitable fire. His brain wavered under the stress of strange newimpressions. He recalled some mutterings of Old Mok about the dead, thatthey had been seen after it was known that they were deep in the ground, but he knew it was not good to speak or think of such things. Again Absprang to his feet. It would not do to shut his eyes, for then he sawplainly Oak in his shallow hole in the dark earth and the face Ab hadhurried to cover first when he was burying his friend, there under thetrees. And so the night wore away, sleep coming fitfully from time totime. Ab could not explore his retreat in the strange firelight nor runthe risks of another night journey across the wild beasts' chosen country. He began to be hungry, with the fierce hunger of brute strength, sharpenedby terrific labors, but he must wait for the morning. The night seemedendless. There was no relief from the thoughts which tortured him, but, atlast, morning broke, and in action Ab found the escape he had longed for. 

CHAPTER XX. 

THE FIRE COUNTRY. 

It was light now and the sun shone fairly on Ab's place of refuge. As hissenses brought to him full appreciation he wondered at the scene abouthim. He was in a glade so depressed as to be a valley. About it, to theeast and north and west, in a wavering, tossing wall, rose the upliftingline of fire through which he had leaped, though there were spaces wherethe height was insignificant. On the south, and extending till it circleda trifle to east, rose a wall of rock, evidently the end of aforest-covered promontory, for trees grew thickly to its very edge andtheir green branches overhung its sheer descent. Coming from some creviceof the rocks on the east, and tumbling downward through the valley, was ariotous brook, which disappeared through some opening at the west. Withinthis area, thus hemmed in by fire and rock, appeared no living thing savethe birds which sang upon the bushes beside the small stream's banks andthe butterflies which hung above the flowers and all the insect worldwhich joined in the soft, humming chorus of the morning. It was somethingthat Ab looked upon with delighted wonder, but without understanding. Whathe saw was not a marvel. It was but the result of one of many upheavals ata time when the earth's cooled shell was somewhat thinner than now andwhen earthquakes, though there were no cities to overthrow, at least madehavoc sometimes by changing the face of nature. There had come a greatsemi-circular crack in the earth, near and extending to the line of thesheer rock range. The natural gas, the product of the vegetation ofthousands of centuries before, had found a chance to escape and had pouredforth into the outer world. Something, perhaps a lightning stroke and aflaming tree, perhaps some cave man making fire and consumed on theinstant when he succeeded, had ignited the sheet of rising gas, and theresult was the wall of flame. It was all natural and commonplace, for thetime. There were other upleaping flame sheets in the surrounding regionforever burning--as there are in northern Asia to-day--but Ab knew ofthese fires only from Old Mok's tales. He stood wonderstruck at what hesaw about him. 

But this man in the valley was young and very strong, with tissues to berenewed, and the physical man within him clamored and demanded. He musteat. He ran forward and around, anxiously observant, and soon learned thatat the western end of the valley, where the little creek tumbled through arocky cut into a lower level, there was easy exit from thefire-encompassed and protected area. He clambered along the creek's rough, descending side. He emerged upon an easier slope and then found itpossible to climb the hillside to the plane of the great wood. There must, he thought, be food of some sort, even for a man with only Oak's knife inhis possession! There was the forest and there were nuts. He was in theforest soon, among the gray-trunked, black-mottled beeches and the roughbrown oaks. He found something of what he sought, the nuts lying undershed leaves, though the supply was scant. But nuts, to the cave man, mademoderately good food, supplying a part of the sustenance he required, andAb ate of what he could find and arose from the devouring search andlooked about him. 

He was weaponless, save for the knife, and a flint knife was but a thingfor closest struggle. He longed now for his ax and spear and the strongbow which could hurt so at a distance. But there was one sort of weapon tobe had. There was the club. He wandered about among the tops of fallentrees and wrenched at their dried limbs, and finally tore one away andbroke off, later, with a prying leverage, what made a rough but availableclub for a cave man's purposes. It was much better than nothing. Thenbegan a steady trot toward what should be fair life again. There werevague paths through the forest made by wild beasts. As he moved the manthought deeply. 

He thought of the fire-wall, and could not with all his reasoningdetermine upon the cause of its existence, and so abandoned the subject asa thing, the nub of which was unreachable. That was the freshest object inhis mind and the first to be mentally disposed of. But there were othersubjects which came in swift succession. As he went along with a dog'sgait he was not in much terror, practically weaponless as he was. His eyewas good and he was going through the forest in the daylight. He wasstrong enough, club in hand, to meet the minor beasts. As for the others, if any of them appeared, there were the trees, and he could climb. So, ashe trotted he could afford to think. 

And he thought much that day, this perplexed man, our grandfather with somany "greats" before the word. He had nothing to divert him even in theselection of the course toward his cave. He noted not where the sun stood, nor in what direction the tiny head-waters of the rivulets took theircourse, nor how the moss grew on the trees. He traveled in the wood byinstinct, by some almost unexplainable gift which comes to the thing ofthe woods. The wolf has it; the Indian has it; sometimes the white man ofto-day has it. 

As he went Ab engaged in deeper and more sustained thought than everbefore in all his life. He was alone; new and strange scenes had enlargedhis knowledge and swift happenings had made keener his perceptions. Fordays his entire being had been powerfully affected by his meeting withLightfoot at the Feast of the Mammoth and the events which had followedthat meeting in such swift succession. The tragedy of Oak's death hadquickened his sensibilities. Besides, what had ensued latest had been whatwas required to make him in a condition for the divination of things. Thewise agree that much stimulant or much deprivation enables the brainconvolutions to do their work well, though deprivation gets the cleanerend. The asceticism of Marcus Aurelius was productive of greater resultsthan the deep drinking of any gallant young Roman man of letters of whomhe was a patron. The literature of fasting thinkers is something fine. Ab, after exerting his strength to the utmost for days, had not eaten offlesh, and the strong influences to which he was subjected were exertedupon a man still, practically, fasting. For a time, the rude andearth-born child of the cave was lifted into a region of comparativesentiment and imagination. It was an experience which affected materiallyall his later life. 

Ever to the trotting man came the feelings which must follow fierce loveand deadly action and vague remorse and fear of something indefinable. Hesaw the face and form of Lightfoot; he saw again the struggle, death-ending, with the friend of youth and of mutual growing into manhood. He remembered dimly the half insane flight, the leaps across the dreadedmorass and, more distinctly, the chase by the wolves. The aspect of theFire Country and of all that followed his awakening was, of course, yetfresh in his mind. He was burdened. 

Ever uprising and oppressing above all else was the memory of the man hehad killed and buried, covering the face first, so that it might not lookat him. Was Oak really dead? he asked himself again! Had not he, Ab, assoon as he slept again, seen, alive and well, the close friend of his? Heclung to the vision. He reasoned as deeply as it was in him to reason. 

As he struggled in his mind to obtain light there came to him the fancy ofother things dimly related to the death mystery which had perplexed himand all his kind. There must be some one who made the river rise and fallor the nut-bearing forest be either fruitful or the hard reverse. Who andwhat could it be? What should he do, what should all his friends do in thematter of relation to this unknown thing?

With this day and hour did not come really the beginning of Ab's thoughtupon the subject of what was, to him and those he knew, the supernatural. He had thought in the past--he could not help it--of the shadow and theecho. He remembered how he and Oak had talked about the echo, and how theyhad tried to get rid of the thing which had more than once called back tothem insolently across the valley. Every word they shouted this hiddencreature would mockingly repeat and there was no recourse for them. Theyhad once fully armed themselves and, in a burst of desperate bravery, hadresolved to find who and what the owner of this voice was and have, atleast, a fight. They had crossed the valley and ranged about the woodlandwhence the voice seemed to have come, but they never found what theysought!

The shadow which pursued them on sunny afternoons had puzzled them inanother way. Very persistent had been the flat, black, earth-clinging anddistorted thing which followed them so everywhere. What was this black, following thing, anyhow, this thing which swung its unsubstantial bodyaround as one moved but which ever kept its own feet at the feet of thepursued, wherever there was no shade, and which lay there beside one sopersistently?

But the echoes and the shadows were nothing as compared with the thingswhich came to one at night. What were those creatures which came when aman was sleeping? Why did they escape with the dawn and appear again onlywhen he was asleep and helpless, at least until he awoke fairly and seizedhis ax?

The sun rose high and dropped slowly down toward the west, where the farocean was, and the shadows somewhat lengthened, but it was still lightalong the forest pathways and the untiring man still hurried on. He wasnow close to his country and becoming careless and at ease. But hisimagination was still busy; he could not free himself of memory. Therecame to him still the vision of the friend he had buried, hiding his facefirst of all. The frenzy of his wish for knowing rushed again upon him. Where was Oak now? he demanded of himself and of all nature. "Where isOak?" he yelled to the familiar trees beside his path. But the trees, evento the cave man, so close to them in the economy of wild life, so likethem in his naturalness, could give no answer. 

So the cave man struggled in his dim, uncertain way with the eternalquestion: "If a man die shall he live again?" So the human mind stillstruggles, after thousands of centuries have contributed to itsdevelopment. A wall more impassable than the wall of flame Ab had solately looked upon still rises between us and those who no longer live. Wereach out for some knowledge of those who have died, and go almost intomadness because we can grasp nothing. Silence unbroken, darknessimpenetrable ever guard the mystery of death. In the long ages since thecave man ran that day, love and hope have in faith erected, beyond thegrim barriers of blackness and despair, fair pavilions of promise andconsolation, but to the stern examiners of physical fact and reality therehas come no news from beyond the walls of silence since. We clamortearfully for some word from those who are dead, but no answer comes. SoAb groped and strove alone in the forest, in his youth and ignorance, andin the youth and ignorance of our race. 

Upon the pathway along the river's bank Ab emerged at last. All wasfamiliar to him now. There, by the clump of trees in the flat below, wasthe place where he and Oak had dug the pit when they were but mere boysand had learned their first important lessons in sterner woodcraft. Sooncame in sight, as he ran, the entrance to the cave of his own family. Hewas home again. But he was not the one who had left that rude habitationthree days before. He had gone away a youth. He had come back one who hadsuffered and thought. He came back a man. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

THE WOOING OF LIGHTFOOT. 

Lightfoot, when Ab seized Oak, had fled away from the two infuriated men, as the hare runs, and had sped into the forest. She had the impetus of newfear now and ran swiftly as became her name, never looking behind her, nordid she slacken her pace, though panting and exhausted, until she foundherself approaching the cave where lived her playmate, Moonface, not morethan an hour's run from her own home. 

The fleeing girl was fortunate in stumbling upon her friend as soon as shecame into the open space about the cave. Moonface was enjoying herselflazily that afternoon. She was leaning back idly in a swing of vines towhich she had braided a flexible back, and was blinking somnolently in thesunshine as the visitor leaped from the wood. Moonface recognized herfriend, gave a quavering cry of delight and came slipping and rollingrecklessly to the ground to meet her. Lightfoot uttered no word. She stoodbreathless, and was rather carried than led by Moonface to an easy seat, moss-padded, upon twisted tree roots, which was that young lady's ordinaryresting-place. Upon this seat the two sank, one overcome with past fearand present fatigue, and the other with an all-absorbing and demandingcuriosity. It was beyond the ordinary scope of the self-restraining forcesin Moonface to await with calm the recovery of Lightfoot's breath andpowers of conversation. She pinched and shook her friend and demanded, half-crying but impatiently, some explanation. It was a great hour forMoonface, the greatest in her life. Here was her friend and dictatorpanting and terrified like some weak, hunted-down thing of the wood. Itwas a marvel. At last Lightfoot spoke:

"They are fighting at the foot of the hill!" she said, and Moonface atonce guessed the whole story, for she was not blind, this wide-mouthedcreature. 

"Why did you run away?" she asked. 

"I ran because I was scared. One of them must be dead before this time. Iam glad I am alive myself, " Lightfoot gasped. Then the girl covered herface with her hands as she recalled Ab's face, distorted by passion andmurderous hate, and Oak's equally maddened look as, before the onrush, hehad grasped her so firmly that the marks of his fingers remained blue uponher arms and slender waist and neck. 

Then Lightfoot, slow to regain her composure, told tremblingly the storyof all that had occurred, finding comfort in the unaffrighted look uponthe face, as well as in the reassuring talk, of her easy-going, unimaginative and cheerful and faithful companion. She remained as a guestat the cave overnight and the next forenoon, when she took her way forhome, she was accompanied by Moonface. Gradually, as the hours passed, Lightfoot regained something of her usual frame of mind and a little ofher ordinary manner of careless light-heartedness, but when home had beenreached and the girls had rested and eaten and she heard Moonface tellinganew for her the story of the flight in the wood, while her father, Hilltop, and her two strapping brothers listened with interest, but withno degree of excitement, she felt again the wild alarm and horror anduncertainty which had affected her when first she fled from what was toher so dreadful. She crept away from the cave door near which the otherssat enjoying the balmy midsummer afternoon, beckoning to one of herbrothers to follow her, as the big fellow did unquestioningly, forLightfoot had been, almost from young girlhood, the dominant force in thefamily, even the strong father, though it was contrary to the spirit ofthe time, admiring and yielding to his one daughter without much comment. The great, hulking youth, well armed and ready for any adventure, joinedher, nothing both, and the two disappeared, like shadows, in the depths ofthe forest. 

Lightfoot had been the housekeeper in the cave of Hilltop, the cave of thegreatest hunter of the region, young despite the years which hadencompassed him, and father of two boys who were fine specimens of thebetter men of the time. They were splendid whelps, and this slim thing, whom they had cared for as she grew, dominated them easily, though the agewas not one of vast family affection, while chivalry, of course, did notexist. Hilltop's wife had died two years before, and Lightfoot, withunconscious force, had taken her mother's place. There was none other withwoman's ways to help the men in the rock-guarded home on the windy hill. Hilltop had not been altogether unthinking all this time. He had oftenlooked upon his daughter's friend, the jolly, swart and well-fed Moonface, and had much approved of her, but, today, as he listened to her story, hedid not pay such attention as was demanded by the interest of the theme. An occasional death, though it were the killing of one cave man byanother, was not a matter of huge importance. He was not inflamed in anyway by what he heard, but as he looked and listened to the comfortableyoung person who was speaking, the idea, hastened it may be by some lovingand domestic instinct, grew slowly in his brain that she might make forhim as excellent a mate as any other of the "good matches" to be found inthe immediately surrounding country. He was a most directly reasoningperson, this Hilltop, best of hunters and generally respected on theforest ridges. After the thought once dawned upon him, it grew and grew, and an idea fairly developed in Hilltop's mind meant action. Hisfifty-five years of age had hardly cooled and had certainly not nearlyapproached to freezing the blood in his outstanding veins. He had a suitto make, and make at once. That he might have no interruption he badeStone-Arm, his remaining son, who sat on a rock near by, and who hadlistened, open-mouthed, to the recital of Moonface, to seek his brotherand Lightfoot in the forest path. There might be beasts abroad and two menwere better than one, said this crafty father-hunter-lover. 

The boy, clever tracker as a red Indian or Australian trailer, soon foundthe path his brother and Lightfoot had taken and joined them. As helistened to what they were saying he was glad he had been sent to followthem. They were hastening toward the valley. The trees were beginning tocast long shadows when the three came to where the more abrupt hillsidereached the slope and where the torn ground, broken limbs and twigs anddeep-indented footprints in the soil gave glaring evidence to the eye ofyesterday's struggle. But, aside from all this, there was something else. There was a carpet of yellowish-brown leaves, at the edge of the circle offray, where a man had fallen. On the clean stretch of evenly rain-packedleaves there were spots from which the scarlet had but lately faded intocrimson. There was a place where the surface was disturbed and sunken alittle. All three knew that a man had died there. 

The two young men and their sister stood together uttering no word. Themen were amazed. The woman half comprehended all. She did not hesitate amoment. Guided by a sure instinct, Lightfoot reached, without thought orconscious search, the spot of unnatural earth which reared itself so nearto them, the spot where was fresh stone-covered soil and where a man wasburied. The pile of stones, newly heaped upon the moist earth, told theirstory. 

Someone was buried there, but whom? Was it Oak or Ab?

"Shall I dig?" said Stone-Arm, making ready for the task, while Branch, his elder brother, prepared for work as well. 

"No! No!" cried Lightfoot. "He is buried deep and the stones are over him. It will be night soon and the wolves and hyenas would be here before wecould get away. Let it be. Someone is there, but the one who killed himhas buried him. He will come back!" The two boys were silent, andLightfoot led the way toward home. When the three reached the cave ofHilltop the sun was setting. Something had happened at the cave, but therearises at this point no stern demand for going into details. Hilltop, brave man, was no laggard in wooing, and Moonface was not a nervous youngperson. When the other members of the household reached the cave Moonfacewas already installed as mistress. There would be no reprisals from aninjured family. The girl had lived with her ancient father, whom she hadhalf-supported and who would, possibly, be transplanted to Hilltop's cavefor such pottering life as he was still capable of during the rest of hisexistence. The new régime was fairly established. 

The arrangement suited Lightfoot well enough. This astounding stepmotherhad been her humble but faithful friend. Lightfoot was a ruling womanspirit wherever she was, and she knew it, though she bowed at all times tothe rule of strength as the only law. Nevertheless she knew how to get herown way. With Moonface, everything was easy for her and she found itrather pleasant than otherwise to find the other young woman made suddenlya permanent resident of the cave in which she had been born and had livedall her life. As the two girls met, and the situation was curtly announcedby Hilltop, their faces were worth the seeing. There was alarm andhopefulness upon the countenance of Moonface, sudden astonishment andindignation, and then reflection, upon the face of Lightfoot. After a fewmoments of thought both girls laughed cheerfully. 

The story of the newly found grave made but little impression upon thegroup and Lightfoot, the only one of the household who thought much aboutit, thought silently. To her the single question was: "Who lay there?"There was nothing strange to the others of the family in the thought thatone man should have killed another, and no one attached blame to orproposed punishment of the slayer. Sometimes after such a happening, thecave man who had slain another might have a rock rolled suddenly upon himfrom a height, or in passing a thicket have the flint head of a speardriven through him, but this was only the deed, perhaps, of an enragedfather or brother, not in any sense a matter of course in the way ofjustice, and even such attempt at reprisal was not the rule. 

But in the bosom of Lightfoot was a weight like a stone. It was as heavy, she thought, as one of the stones on the bare ground over the body of theman who lay there in the dark earth, because he had run after her. Who wasit? It might be Ab! And all through the night the girl tossed uneasily onher bed of leaves, as she did for nights to come. 

As for Moonface, who shall say what that rotund and hairy young personthought when the family had settled down to the changed order of thingsand she had adjusted herself to the duties of a matron in her new home?She was not less broadly buoyant and beaming, but who can tell that, whenshe noted Lightfoot's burning look and thoughtful mien, Moonface did notsometimes think of the two young men who, but yesterday, had rejoiced insuch strength and vigor and charm of power and who were so good to lookupon? She was a wife now, but to another sort of man. Even the feminineamong writers of erotic novels have not yet revealed what the young moonthinks when she "holds the old moon in her arms. " Anyhow, Hilltop was adefense and a great provider of food. He was a fine figure of a man, too. 

[Illustration: THE GIRL COWERED BEHIND A REFUGE OF LEAVES AND BRANCHES]

Lightfoot was not much in the cave now. She lingered about the open spaceor wandered in the near wood. A woman's instinct told her to be out-doorsall the time she could. A man would seek her, but with the thought came anawful dread. Which man? One afternoon she saw something. 

Two gray forms flitted across an open space in the forest near the cave, and in a moment the girl was in a treetop. What followed was theunexpected. Close behind the gray things came a man, fully armed, straight, eager and alert and silent in his wood surroundings, with eyesroving over and searching all the open space about the cave of Hilltop. The man was Ab. 

The girl gave a shriek of delight, then, alarmed at the sound she hadmade, cowered behind a refuge of leaves and branches. She was happy beyondall her experience before. The question which had been in all her thoughtswas answered! It was Oak, not Ab, who lay in the ground on the hillside. And, even as she realized this fully, there was a swift upward scrambleand the young cave man was beside her on the limb. There was no runningaway this time. The girl's face told its story well enough, so well thatAb, still lately doubting, though resolved, knew that his fitting matebelonged to him. There came to them the happiness which ever comes tolovers, be they man or bird or beast, and then came swift conclusion. Hetold her she must go with him at once, told her of the new cave and of allhe had done, but the girl, well aware of the dangers of the beast-hauntedregion where the new home had been selected, was thoroughly alarmed. ThenAb told her of the little flying spears which Old Mok had made for him, and about the wonderful bow which sent them to their mark, and the girlwas reassured and soon began to feel exceedingly brave and proud of herlover and his prowess. 

No need of carrying off a girl by force or craft on this occasion, forHilltop had fully recognized Ab's strength and quality. The two went tothe cave together and there was eating and then, later, two skin-cladhuman beings, a man and a woman, went away together through the forest. Their journey was a long one and a careful lookout was necessary as theyhurried along a pathway of the strange country. But the cave was reachedat last, just as the sun burned red and gave a rosy glow to everything. 

Silently the two came into the open space in front of what was to be theirfortress and abode. Solid was the rock about the entrance and narrow theblocked opening. Smoke curled in a pretty spiral upward from wheresmoldered the fire Ab had made the day before. Lightfoot looked upon itall and laughed joyously, though tremblingly, for she had now givenherself to a man and he had brought her to his place of living. 

As for the man, he looked down upon the girl delightedly. His pulse beatfast. He put his arm about her and together they entered the cave. Therewas a marriage but no ceremony. Just as robins mate when they have met oras the buck and doe, so faithful man and wife became these two. 

Darkness fell, the fire at the cave entrance flashed up fiercely and Aband Lightfoot were "at home. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

THE HONEYMOON. 

The sun shone brilliantly, birds were singing and the balsam firs gaveforth their morning incense as Ab and Lightfoot issued from their cave. They had eaten heartily, and came out buoyant and delighted with theworld which was theirs. The chattering of the waterfowl along the riverreached their ears faintly, the leaves were moved by a gentle breeze, there was a hum of insects in the air and the very pulse of living couldbe felt. Ab carried his new weapon proudly, hungering for the love andadmiration of this girl of his, and eager to show her its powers and toexhibit his own skill. At his back hung his quiver of mammoth bone. Hisbow, unstrung, was in his hand. In front of the cave was a bare area ofmany yards in extent, then came a few scattering trees and, at a distanceof perhaps two hundred yards, the forest began. Across the open space ofground, with its great mass of branches crushed together not far from thecave's mouth, had fallen one of the gigantic conifers' of the time, andwas there gradually decaying, its huge limbs and bole, disintegrating, and dry as punk, affording, close at hand, a vast fuel supply, theexceptional value of which Ab had recognized when making his selection ofa home. Near the edge of the little clearing made by nature, Ab seatedhimself upon a log, and drawing Lightfoot down to a seat beside him, began enthusiastically to make clear the marvels of the weapon he haddevised and which he and Old Mok had developed into something startlingin its possibilities. 

All details of the explanation made by the earnest young hunter, it isprobable, Lightfoot did not comprehend. She looked proudly at him, fingering the flint pointed arrows curiously, yet seemed rather intentupon the man than the wood and stone. But when he pointed at a great knotin a tree near them and bent his bow and sent an arrow fairly into thetarget, and when, even with her strength, Lightfoot could not pull thearrow out, she was wild with admiration and excitement. She begged to betaught how to use, herself, this wonderful new weapon, for she recognizedas readily as could anyone its adaptation to the use of one of inferiorstrength. The delighted lover was certainly as desirous as she that sheshould some day become an expert. He handed her the bow, retaining, slungover his shoulder, fortunately, as it developed, the bone quiver full ofOld Mok's best arrows. He taught her, first, how to bend and string thebow. There were failures and successes, and there was much laughter fromthe merry-hearted Lightfoot. Finally, it happened that Ab was not justcontent with the quality of the particular arrow which he had selectedfor Lightfoot's use. He had taken a slender one with a clean flint head, but something about the notch had not quite suited him. With a thin, hardstone scraper, carried in a pouch of his furry garb, he began rasping andfiling at this notch to make it better fit the string of tendons, whileLightfoot, with the bow still strung, stood beside him. At last, tired ofholding the thing in her hands, she passed it over her head and oneshoulder and stood there jauntily, with both hands free, while the manscraped away with the one little flake of flint in his possession, and, as he worked, paused from time to time note how well he was rounding thenotch in the end of the slight hardwood shaft. It was just as he washolding up to her eyes the arrow, now made almost an ideal one, accordingto his fancy, when there came to the ears of the two a sound, distinct, ominous and implying to them deadly peril, a sound such that, thoughnerves spoke and muscles acted, they were very near the momentaryparalysis which sometimes come from sudden fearful shock. From closebeside them came the half grunt and half growl of the great cave bear!

With the instinct born of generations, each leaped independently towardthe nearest tree, and, with the unconscious strength and celerity whichcomes to even wild animals with the dread of death at hand, eachclambered to a treetop before a word was spoken. Scarcely had either leftthe ground before there was a rush into the open glade of a huge brownhairy form, and this was instantly followed by another. As Ab andLightfoot climbed far amid the branches and looked down, they sawupreared at the base of each tree the figure of one of the monsters whosehungry exclamations they knew so well. They had been careless, these twolovers, especially the man. He had known well, but for the moment hadforgotten how beast-infested was the immediate area about his new home, and now had come the consequence of his thoughtlessness. He and his wifehad been driven to the treetops within a few yards of their ownhearthstone, leaving their weapons inside their cave!

Alarmed and panting, after settling down to a firm seat far aloft, eachlooked about to see what had become of the other. Each was at oncereassured as to the present, and each became much perplexed as to thefuture. The cave bear, like his weaker and degenerate descendant, thegrizzly of to-day, had the quality of persistence well developed, andboth Ab and Lightfoot knew that the siege of their enemies would besomething more than for the moment. The trees in which they perched werevery close to the wood, but not so close that the forest could be reachedby passing from branch to branch. Their two trees were not far from eachother, but their branches did not intermingle. There was a distinctopening between them. The tree up which Lightfoot had scrambled was agreat fir towering high above the strong beech in which Ab had found hissafety. Branches of the fir hung down until between their ends and Ab'sless lofty covert there were but a few yards of space. Still, one tryingto reach the beech from the lofty fir would find an unpleasantly widegap. 

Each of the creatures in the tree was unarmed. Ab still bore the quiverfull of admirable arrows, and across the breast of Lightfoot still hungthe strong bow which she had slung about her in such blithesome mood. Soon began an exceedingly earnest conversation. Ab, eager to reach againthe fair creature who now belonged to him, was half frantic with rage, and Lightfoot was far from her usual mood of careless gaiety. The twotalked and considered, though but to little purpose, and, finally, afterweary hours, the night came on. It was a trying situation. Man and womanwere in equal danger. The bears were hungry--and the cave bear knew hisquarry. The beasts beneath were not disposed to leave the prey they hadimprisoned aloft. The night grew, but either Ab or Lightfoot, lookingdown, could see the glare of small, hungry eyes. There was gentle talkbetween the two, for this was a great strait and, in straits, souls, bethey prehistoric, historic or of to-day, always come closer together. Very much more loving lovers, even, than they were before, became the twoperched aloft that night. It was a comfort for the wedded pair to call toeach other through the darkness. After a time, however, muscles grew laxwith the continued strain. Weariness clouded the spirits of the coupleand almost overcame them and only the thing which has always, in greatstress, given the greatest strength in this world--the love of male andfemale--sustained them. They stood the test pretty well. To sleep in atree top was an easy thing for them, with the precautions, simple andnatural, of the time. Each plaited a withe of twigs with which to be tiedto the tree or limb, and resting in the hollow nest where some great limbjoined the bole, slept as sleep tired children, until the awakening ofnature awoke these who were nature's own. When Ab awoke, he had more onhis mind than Lightfoot, for he was the one who must care for the two. Heblinked and wondered where he was. Then he remembered all, suddenly. Helooked across anxiously at a slender brown thing lying asleep, coiled soclose to the bole of the tree to which she was bound that she seemedalmost a part of it. Then he looked down, and, after what he saw, thoughtvery seriously. The bears were there! He looked up at the bright sky andall about him, and inhaled all the fragrance of the forest, and feltstrong, and that he knew what he should do. He called aloud. 

The girl awoke, frightened. She would have fallen had she not been boundto the tree. Gradually, the full meaning of the situation dawned upon herand she began to cry. She was hungry, her limbs were stiffened by herbands, and there was death below. But there, close to her, was the Man. His voice gradually reassured her. He was becoming angry now, almostraging. Here he was, the lord of a cave, independent and master as muchas any other man whom he knew, perched in one tree while his bride of aday was in the top of another, yet kept apart from her by the brutesbelow!

He had decided what to do, and now he talked to Lightfoot with all thefrankness of the strong male who felt that he had another to care for, and who realized his responsibility and authority together. As thestrength and decided personality of the young man came to her through hisvoice, the young woman drew her scanty fur robe about her and checked hertears. She became comparatively calm and reasonable. 

The tree in which Lightfoot had found refuge had many long slenderbranches lowering toward the giant beech into which the man had made hisretreat. Ab argued that it was possible--barely possible--for Lightfoot'scompact, agile, slender body to be launched in just the right way fromone of the branches of the taller tree, and, swinging in its descentacross the space between the two, lodge among the branches of the beechwith him. Strong arms ready to clasp her as she came and to withstand theshock and to hold her safely he promised and, to enforce his plea, hepointed out that, unless they thus took their fate in hand, there wasstarvation awaiting them as they were, while carrying out his plan, ifany accident befell, there was only swift though dreadful death to reckonwith. There was one chance for their lives and that chance must be taken. Ab called to his young wife:

"Crawl out upon a branch above me, swing down from it, swing hard andthrow yourself to me. I will catch you and hold you. I am strong. "

The woman, with all faith in the man, still demurred. It was a greattest, even for the times and the occasion. But hunger was upon her andshe was cold and was, naturally, very brave. She lowered herself andclimbed down and reached an out-extending limb, and there, across thegap, she saw Ab with his strong legs twined about the uprearing branchalong which he laid, with giant brown arms stretched out confidently andwith eyes steadily regarding her, eyes which had love and longing and alot of fight in them. She walked out along the limb, holding herselfsafely by a firm hand-hold on the limb above, until the one her bare feetrested upon swayed and tipped uncertainly. Then came her time of trial ofnerve and trust. Suddenly she stooped, caught the lower limb with herhands and then swung beneath it, hanging by her hands alone, and, handover hand, passed herself along until she reached almost its end. Thenshe began swaying back and forth. She was but a few yards above Ab now, dangling in mid-air, while, below her, the two hungry bears had rushedtogether and were looking upward with red, anticipating eyes, the oozecoming from their mouths. The moment was awful. Soon she must be amangled thing devoured by frightful beasts, or else a woman with a liferenewed. She looked at Ab, and, with courage regained, prepared for thegreat effort which must end all or gain a better lease of life. 

She swung back and forth, each drawing up and outreach and flexiblemotion of her arms giving more momentum to the sway and conserving forcefor the launch of herself she was about to make. The desperation andstrength of a wood-wise creature, so bravely combined, alone enabled herto obey Ab's hoarse command. 

Ab, with his arms outreaching in their strength, feeling the fierce eyesof the hungry bears below boring into his very heart, leaned forward andupward as the swing of the woman reached its climax. With a cry ofwarning, the woman launched herself and shot downward and forward, like abolt to its mark, a very desirable lump of femininity as appearing inmid-air, but one somewhat forcible in its alighting. 

Ab was strong, but when that girl landed fairly in his brawny arms, asshe did beautifully, it was touch and go, for a fraction of a second, whether both should fall to the ground together or both be saved. Hecaught her deftly, but there was a great shock and swing and then, with avast effort, there came recovery and the man drew himself, shaking, backto the support of the branch from which he had been almost wrenched away, at the same time placing beside him the object he had just caught. 

There was absolute silence for a moment or two between theseunconventional lovers to whom had come escape from a hard situation. Theywere drawing deep breaths and recovering an equilibrium. There they sattogether on the strong branch, each of them as secure and, for themoment, as perfectly at home as if lying on a couch in the cave. Each ofthem was panting and each of them rejoicing. It was unlikely that upontheir trained, robust nerves the life-endangering episode of a momentcould have a more than passing effect. They sat so together for someminutes with arms entwined, still drawing deep breaths, and, a littlelater, began to laugh chucklingly, as breath came to be spared for suchexhibition if human feeling. Gradually, the indrawing and expelling ofthe glorious air shortened. The two had regained their normal conditionand Ab's face lengthened and the lines upon it became more distinct. Hewas all himself again, but in no dallying mood. He gave a triumphantwhoop which echoed through the forest, shook his clenched hand savagelyat the brutes below and reached toward Lightfoot for the bow which hungabout her shoulders. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

MORE OF THE HONEYMOON. 

The brown, downy woman knew, on the instant, what was her husband's moodand immediate intent when he thus shouted and took into his own keepingagain the stiff bow which hung about her shoulders. She knew that herlord was not merely in a glad, but that he was also in a vengeful frameof mind, that he wanted from her what would enable him to kill things, and that, equipped again, he was full of the spirit of fight. She knewthat, of the four animals grouped together, two huge creatures of theground and two slighter ones perched in a tree top, the chances were thatthe condition of those below had suddenly become the less preferable. 

The bow was about Ab's shoulders instantly, and then this preposterousyoung gentleman of the period turned to the woman and laughed, and caughther in one of his arms a little closer, and drew her up against him andlaid his cheek against her own for a moment and drew it away and laughedagain. The kiss, it is believed, had not fully developed itself in thecave man's time, but there were substitutes. Then, releasing her, he saidgleefully and chucklingly, "follow me;" and they clambered down the boleof the beech together until they reached the biggest and very lowest limbof all. It was perhaps twenty feet above the ground. A little below theirdangling feet the hungry bears, hitherto more patient, now, with theirexpected prey so close at hand, becoming desperately excited, ran about, frothing and foaming and red-eyed, uprearing themselves in awfulnearness, at times, in their eagerness to reach the prey which they hadso awaited and which, to their intelligence, seemed about falling intotheir jaws. They had so driven into trees before, and finally consumedexhausted cave men and women. As bears went, they were doubtless logicalanimals. They could not know that there had come into possession of thisparticular pair of creatures of the sort they had occasionally eaten, atrifling thing of wood and sinew string and flint point, which wasdestined henceforth to make a decided change in the relative condition ofthe biped and quadruped hunters of the time. How could they know thatsomething small and sharp would fly down and sting them more deeply thanthey had ever been stung before, that it would sting so deeply that theirarteries might be cut, or their hearts pierced and that then they mustlie down and die? The well-thrown spear had been, in other ages, a vastsurprise to the carnivora of the period, but there was something yet tolearn. 

When they had reached the huge branch so near the ground both Ab andLightfoot were for a moment startled and lifted their feet instinctively, but it was only for a moment in the case of the man. He knew that he wasperfectly safe and that he had with him an engine of death. He selectedhis best and strongest arrow, he fitted it carefully to the string andthen, as his mother had done years before above the hyena which soughther child, he reached one foot down as far as he could, and swung it backand forth tantalizingly, just above the larger of the hungry beastsbelow. The monster, fierce with hunger and the desire for prey, roaredaloud and upreared himself by the tree trunk and tore the bark with hisstrong claws, throwing back his great head as he looked upward at thequarry so near him and yet just beyond his reach. This was the man'sopportunity. Ab drew back the arrow till the flint head rested close byhis out-straining hand and the tough wood of the bow creaked under thethrust of his muscled arm. Then he released the shaft. So close togetherwere man and bear that archer's skill of aim was not required. The browntarget could not be missed. The arrow struck with a tear and the flinthead drove through skin and tissue till its point protruded at the backof the great brute's neck. The bear fell suddenly backward, then roseagain and reached blindly at its neck with its huge fore-paws, while fromwhere the arrow had entered the blood came out in spurts. Suddenly thebear ceased its appalling roars and started for the cave. There had cometo it the instinct which makes such great beasts seek to die alone. Itrushed at the narrow entrance but its course was scarcely noted by thecouple in the tree. The other bear, the female, was seeking to reach themin no less savage mood than had animated her stricken mate. 

Not often, when the cave man first learned the use of the bow, came tohim such fortune with a first strong shot as that which had so come toAb. Again he selected a good arrow, again shot his strongest and best, but the shaft only buried itself in the shoulder and served but to driveto absolute madness the raging creature thus sorely hurt. The forestechoed with the roaring of the infuriated animal, and as she rearedherself clambering against the tree the tough fiber was rended away ingreat slivers, and the man and woman were glad that the trunk was thickand that they owned a natural citadel. Again and again did Ab dischargehis arrows and still fail to reach a vital part of the terror below. Shefairly bristled with the shafts. It was inevitable that she must die, butwhen the last shot had sped she was still infuriate and, apparently, asstrong as ever. The archer looked down upon her with some measure ofdespondency in his face, but by no means with despair. He and his bridemust wait. That was all, and this he told to Lightfoot. That intelligentand reliable young helpmate of a few hours, who had looked upon what hadoccurred with an awed admiration, did not exhibit any depression. Herhusband, fortunate Benedict, had produced a great effect upon her by hisfeat. She felt herself something like a queen. Had she known enough andhad the fancies of the Ruth of some thousands of decades later she wouldhave told him how completely thenceforth his people were her people andhis gods her gods. 

The she bear became finally somewhat quieted; she tore less angrily atthe tree and made less of the terrible clamor which had for the momentdriven from the immediate region all the inmates of the wood, for nonesave the cave tiger cared to be in the immediate neighborhood of the cavebear. Her roars changed into roaring growls, and she wanderedstaggeringly about. At last she started blindly and weakly toward theforest, and just as she had passed beneath its shadow, paused, weavedback and forth for a moment, and then fell over heavily. She was dead. 

Not an action of the beast had escaped the eyes of Ab. Well he knew theways of wounded things. As the bear toppled over he gave utterance to awhoop and, with a word to the girl beside him, slid lightly to theground, she following him at once. It was very good to be upon the earthagain. Ab stamped with his feet and stretched his arms, and the womandanced upon the grass and laughed gleefully. But this was only for amoment or so. Ab started toward the cave, and as he reached the entrance, gave a great cry of rage and dismay. Lightfoot ran to his side and evenher ready laugh failed her when she looked upon his perplexed and stormycountenance and saw what had happened. The rump of the monster he bearwas what she looked upon. The beast, in his instinctive effort to crawlinto some dark place to die, had fairly driven himself into the cave'sentrance, dislodging some of the stones Ab had placed there, had wedgedhimself in firmly, and had died before he could extricate his greatcarcass. The two human beings were homeless and, with all the arrowsgone, weaponless, in the midst of a region so dangerously infested thatany movement afoot was but inviting death. They were hungry, too, formany hours had passed since they had tasted food. It was not matter ofsurprise that even the stout-hearted cave man stood aghast. 

The occasion for Ab's alarm was fully verified. From the spot where thecave bear lay at the forest's edge came a sharp, snapping growl. Thelurking hyenas had found the food, and a long, inquiring howl fromanother direction told that the wolves had scented it and were gathering. For the instant Ab was himself almost helpless with fear. The woman wassimply nerveless. Then the man, so accustomed to physical danger, recovered himself. He sprang forward, seized a stout fragment of limbwhich might serve as a sort of weapon, and, turning to the woman, saidonly the one word "fire. "

Lightfoot understood and life came to her again. None in all the regioncould make a fire more swiftly than she. Her quick eye detected just thebase she wanted in a punkish fragment of wood and the harder and pointedbit of limb to be used in making the friction. In a time scarcely worththe noting the point was whirling about and burning into the wooden base, twirling with a skill and velocity not comprehensible by us to-day, forthe cave people had perfected wonderfully this greatest manual art of thetime, and Lightfoot, muscular and enduring, was, as already said, in thisthing the cleverest among the clever. Ab, with ready club in hand, advanced cautiously toward the point at the wood's edge where lay thebody of the bear. He paused as he came near enough to see what washappening. Four great hyenas were tearing eagerly at the flesh of thedead brute, and behind them, deeper in the wood, were shining eyes, andAb knew that the wolf pack was gathering. The bear consumed, the man andwoman, without defense, would surely be devoured. It was a desperatestrait, but, though he was weaponless, there was the cave man's greatresort, the fire, and there might be a chance for life. To seek the treetops would be dangerous even now, and once ensconced in such harborage, only starvation was awaiting. He moved back noiselessly, with as littleapparent motion as possible, for he did not want to attract the attentionof the gleaming eyes in the distance, until he came near Lightfoot again, and then he abandoned caution of movement and began tearing franticallyat the limbs and débris of the great dead conifer, and to build asemicircular fence in front of the cave entrance. He did the swift workof half a score of men in his desperation and anxiety, his great strengthserving him well in his compelling strait. 

Meanwhile the stick twirled and rasped in the hands of the brown womanseated on the ground, and at last a tiny thread of smoke arose. Thecontinued friction had done its work. Deft himself at fire-making, Abknew just what was wanted at this moment and ran to his wife's side withpunk from the dead tree, rubbed to a powder in his hard hands. Thepowder, poured gently down upon the point where the increasing heat hadbrought the gleam of fire, burst, almost at once, into a little flame. What followed was simple and easy. Dry twigs made the slight flame agreater one and then, at a dozen different points, the wall which Ab hadbuilt was fired. They were safe, for the time at least. Behind them wasthe uprearing rock in which was the cave and before them, almostencircling them completely, was the ring of fire which no wild beastwould cross. At one end, close to the rock, a space had been left by Ab, that he and Lightfoot might, through it, reach the vast store of fuelwhich lay there ready to the hand and so close that there was no dangerin visiting it. Hardly had the flame extended itself along the slightwooden barrier than the whole wood and clearing resounded with terrifyingsounds. The wolf pack had increased until strong enough to battle withthe hyenas for the remainder of the feast in the wood, and their fightwas on. 

The feeling of terror had passed away from this young bride and groom, with the assurance of present safety, and Ab felt the need of eating. "There is meat, " he said, as he pointed toward the haunches of the bear, half-protruding from the rock, "and there is fire. The fire will cook themeat, and, besides, we are safe. We will eat!"

The bridegroom of but a day or two said this somewhat grandiloquently, but he was not disposed to be vain or grandiloquent a little later. Heput his hand to the belt of his furry garb and found no sharp flint knifethere! It had been lost in his late tree clambering. He put his hand intothe pouch of his cloak and found only the flint skin scraper, the scraperwith which he had improved the arrow's notch, though it was notoriginally intended for such use. It was all that remained to him ofweapon or utensil. But it would cut or tear, though with infinite effort, and the man, to reassure the woman, laughed, and assailed the brownhaunch before him. Even with his strength, it was difficult for Ab topenetrate the tough skin of the bear with an implement intended forscraping, not for cutting, and it was only after he had finally cut, orrather dug, away enough to enable him to get his fingers under the skinand tear away an area of it by sheer main strength that the flesh wasmade available. That end once attained, there followed a hard transversedigging with the scraper, a grasp about tissue of strong, impressedfingers, and a shred of flesh came away. It was tossed at once to a youngperson who, long twig in hand, stood eagerly waiting. She caught theshred as she had caught the fine bit of mammoth when first she and Ab hadmet, and it was at once impaled and thrust into the flames. It waswithdrawn, it is to be feared, a trifle underdone, and then itdisappeared, as did other shreds of excellent bear's meat which camefollowing. It was a sight for a dyspeptic to note the eating of thisbelle-matron of the region on this somewhat exceptional occasion. 

Strip after strip did Ab tear away and toss to his wife until theexpression on her face became a shade more peaceful and then it dawnedupon him that she was eating and that he was not. There was clamor in hisstomach. He sprang away from the bear, gave Lightfoot the scraper andcommanded her to get food for him as he had done for her. The girlcomplied and did as well as had done the man in digging away the meat. Heate as she had done, and, at last, partly gorged and content, allowed herto take her place at the fire and again eat to his serving. He had shownwhat, from the standard of the time, must be counted as most gallant andgenerous and courteous demeanor. He had thought a little of the woman. 

A tiny rill of cold water trickled down on one side of the outer door oftheir cave. With this their thirst was slaked, and they ate and ate. Theshadows lengthened and Ab replenished again and again the fire. From thesemicircle of forest all about came the sound of footsteps rustling inthe leaves. But the two people inside the fire fence, hungry no longer, were content. Ab talked to his wife:

"The fire will keep the man-eating things away, " he said. "I ran not longago with things behind me, and I would have been eaten had I not comeupon a ring of fire like the one we have made. I leaped it and the eaterscould not reach me. But, for the fire I leaped there was no wood. It cameout of a crack in the ground. Some day we will go there and I will showyou that thing which is so strange. "

The woman listened, delighted, but, at last, there was a nodding of thehead. She lay back upon the grass a sleepy being. Ab looked at her andthought deeply. Where was safety? As they were, one of them must be awakeall the time to keep the fire replenished. Until he could enter the caveagain he must be weaponless. Only the fire could protect the two. Theyhad heat and food and nothing to fear for the moment, but they mustfairly eat their way into a safety which would be permanent!

He kept the fire alight far into the darkness, and then, piling the fuelhigh all along the line of defense, he aroused the sleeping woman andtold her she must keep the flames bright while he slept in his turn. Shewas just the wife for such an emergency as this, and rose uncomplaininglyto do her part of the guarding work. From the forest all about camesnarling sounds or threatening growls, and eyes blazed in the somberdepths beneath the trees. There were hungry things out there and theywanted to eat a man and woman, but fire they feared. The woman was notafraid. 

After hours had passed the man awoke and took the woman's place and sheslept in his stead. Morning came and the sounds from the forest died awaypartly, but the man and woman knew of the fierce creatures still lurkingthere. They knew what was before them. They must delve and eat their wayinto the cave as soon as possible. 

Ab scraped at the bear's huge body with his inefficient bit of flint anddug away food in abundance, which he heaped up in a little red moundinside the fire, but the bear was a monstrous beast and it was a long wayfrom tail to head. The days of the honeymoon passed with a degree oftravail, for there was no moment when one of the two must not be awakefeeding the guarding fire or digging at the bear. They ate still heartilyon the second day but it is simple, truthful history to admit that on thesixth day bear's meat palled somewhat on the happy couple. To have eatenthirty quails in thirty days or, at a pinch, thirty quails in two dayswould have been nothing to either of them, but bear's meat eaten as partof what might be called a tunneling exploit ceased, finally, to possessan attractive flavor. There was a degree of shade cast by all theseobtrusive circumstances across this honeymoon, but there came a day andhour when the bear was largely eaten, and fairly dug away as to much ofthe rest of him, and then, quite suddenly, his head and fore-quarterstoppled forward into the cave, leaving the passage free, and when Ab andLightfoot followed, one shouting and the other laughing, one coming againto his fortress and his weapons and his power, and the other to herhearth and duties. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE FIRE COUNTRY AGAIN. 

The sun rose brightly the next morning and when Ab, armed and watchful, rolled the big stone away and passed the smoldering fire and issued fromthe cave into the open, the scene he looked upon was fair in every way. Of what had been left of the great bear not a trace remained. Even thebones had been dragged into the forest by the ravening creatures who hadfed there during the night. There were birds singing and there were noenemies in sight. Ab called to Lightfoot and the two went forth together, loving and brave, but no longer careless in that too interesting region. 

And so began the home life of these two people. It was, in its way andrelatively, as sweet and delicious as the first home life of any lovingand appreciating man and woman of to-day. The two were very close, as theconditions under which they lived demanded. They were the only humanbeings within a radius of miles. The family of the cave man of the timewas serenely independent, each having its own territory, and dependingupon itself for its existence. And the two troubled themselves aboutnothing. Who better than they could daily win the means of animalsubsistence?

Ab taught Lightfoot the art of cracking away the flakes of the flintnodules and of the finer chipping and rasping which made perfect thespear and arrowheads, and never was pupil swifter in the learning. Hetaught her, too, the use of his new weapon, and in all his life he did nowiser thing! It was not long before she became easily his superior withthe bow, so far as her strength would allow, and her strength was farfrom insignificant. Her arrows flew with greater accuracy than his, though the buzzing shaft had not as yet, and did not have for manycenturies later, the "gray goose" feather which made the doing of itsmission far more certain. Lightfoot brought to the cave the capercailzieand willow grouse and other birds which were good things for the larder, and Ab looked on admiringly. Even in their joint hunting, when there wasa half rivalry, he was happy in her. Somehow, the arrow sang more merrilywhen it flew from Lightfoot's bow. 

Better than Ab, too, could the young wife do rare climbing when in a nestfar out upon some branch were eggs good for roasting and which could bereached only by a light-weight. And she learned the woods about themwell, and, though ever dreading when alone, found where were the treesfrom which fell the greatest store of nuts and where, in the mud alongthe river's side, her long and highly educated toes could reach the clamswhich were excellent to feed upon. 

But never did the hunter leave the cave without a fear. Ever, even in thedaytime, was there too much rustling among the leaves of the near forest. Ever when day had gone was there the sound of padded feet on the swardabout the cave's blocked entrance. Ever, at night, looking out throughthe narrow space between the heaped rocks, could the two inside the cavesee fierce and blazing eyes and there would come to them the sound ofsnarls and growls as the beasts of different quality met one another. Yetthe two cared little for these fearful surroundings of the darkness. Theywere safe enough. In the morning there were no signs of the lurkingbeasts of prey. They were somewhere near, though, and waiting, and so Aband Lightfoot had the strain of constant watchfulness upon them. 

It may be that because of this ever present peril the two grew closertogether. It could not well be otherwise with human beings thus bound andisolated and facing and living upon the rest of nature, part of itseeking always their own lives. They became a wonderfully loving couple, as love went in that rude time. Despite the too wearing outlook imposedupon them, because they were in so dangerous a locality, they were veryhappy. Yet, one day, came a difference and a hurt. 

Oak, apparently forgotten by others, was remembered by Ab, though neverspoken of. Sometimes the man had tossed upon his bed of leaves and hadmuttered in his sleep, and the one word he had most often spoken in thistroubled dreaming was the name of Oak. Early in their married lifeLightfoot, to whom the memory of the dead man, so little had she knownhim, was a far less haunting thing than to her husband, had suddenlybroken a silence, saying "Where is Oak?" There was no answer, but thelook of the man of whom she had asked the question was such that she wasglad to creep from his sight unharmed. Yet once again, months later, sheforgot herself and mocked Ab when he had been boastful over some exploitof strength and courage and when he had seemed to say that he knew nofear. She, but to tease him, sprang up with a face convulsed andagonized, and with staring eyes and hands opening and shutting, had criedout "Oak! Oak!" as she had seen Ab do at night. Her mimic terror waschanged on the moment into reality. With a shudder and then with a glarein his eyes the man leaped toward her, snatching his great ax from hisbelt and swinging it above her head. The woman shrieked and shrank to theground. The man whirled the weapon aloft and then, his face twitchingconvulsively, checked its descent. He may, in that moment, have thoughtof what followed the slaying of the other who had been close to him. There was no death done, but, thenceforth, Lightfoot never uttered aloudthe name of Oak. She became more sedate and grave of bearing. 

The episode was but a passing, though not a forgotten one in the lives ofthe two. The months went by and there were tranquil hours in the cave as, at night, the weapons were shaped, and Lightfoot boasted of thearrowheads she had learned to make so well. Sometimes Old Mok would berowed up the river to them by the sturdy and venturesome Bark, who hadgrown into a particularly fine youth and who now cared for nothing morethan his big brother's admiration. Between Old Mok and Lightfoot, to Ab'sgreat delight, grew up the warmest friendship. The old man taught thewoman more of the details of good arrow-making and all he knew ofwoodcraft in all ways, and the lord of the place soon found his wifegiving opinions with an air of the utmost knowledge and authority. Whatever came to him from her and Old Mok pleased him, and when she toldhim of some of the finer points of arrow-making he stretched out hisbrawny arms and laughed. 

But there came, in time, a shade upon the face of the man. The incidentof the talk of Oak may have brought to his mind again more freshly andkeenly the memory of the Fire Country. There he had found safety andgreat comfort. Why should not he and Lightfoot seize upon this home andlive there? It was a wonderful place and warm, and there were forests athand. He became so absorbed in his own thoughts on this great theme thatthe woman who was his could not understand his mood, but, one day, hetold her of what he had been thinking and of what he had resolved upon. "I am going to the Fire Country, " he said. 

Armed, this time with spear and ax and bow and arrow, and with foodabundant in the pouch of his skin garb, Ab left the cave in whichLightfoot was now to stay most of the time, well barricaded, for that shewas to hunt afar alone in such a region was not even to be thought of. What thoughts came to the man as he traversed again the forest pathswhere he had so pondered as he once ran before can be but guessed at. Certainly he had learned no more of Oak. 

Lightfoot, left alone in the cave, became at once a most discreet andcareful personage, for one of her buoyant and daring temperament. She hadoften taken risks since her marriage, but there was always the chance offinding within the sound of her voice her big mate, Ab, should dangerovertake her. She remained close to the cave, and when early dusk cameshe lugged the stone barriers into place and built a night-fire withinthe entrance. The fierce and hungry beasts of the wood came, as usual, lurking and sniffing harshly about the entrance, and when she venturedthere and peered outside she saw the wicked and leering eyes. Alone and alittle alarmed, she became more vengeful than she would have been withthe big, careless Ab beside her. She would have sport with her bow. Theadvantage of the bow is that it requires no swing of space for its workas is demanded of the flung spear. An arrow may be sent through a mereloophole with no probable demerit as to what it will accomplish. So thewoman brought her strongest bow--and far beyond the rough bow of Ab'sfirst make was the bow they now possessed--and gathered together many ofthe arrows she could make so well and use so well, and, thus equipped, went again to the cave's entrance, and through the space between theheaped rocks of the doorway sent toward the eyes of wolf, or cave hyena, shafts to which they were unaccustomed, but which, somehow, pierced andcould find mid-body quite as well as the cave man's spear. There was acertain comfort in the work, though it could not affect her condition inone way or another. It was only something of a gain to drive the eyesaway. 

And Ab reached the Fire Valley again. He found it as comfortable anduntenanted as when the leap through the ring of flame had saved his life. He clambered up the creek and wandered along its banks, where the grasswas green because of the warmth about, and studied all the qualities ofthe naturally defended valley. "I will make my home here, " he said. "Lightfoot shall come with me. "

The man returned to his cave and his lonely mate again and told her ofthe Fire Country. He said that in the Fire Valley they would be safer andhappier, and told her how he had found an opening underneath the cliffwhich they could soon enlarge into a cave to meet all wants. Not that acave was really needed in a fire valley, but they might have one if theycared. And Lightfoot was glad of the departure. 

The pair gathered their belongings together and there was the longjourney over again which Ab had just accomplished. But it was fardifferent from either journey that he had made. There with him was hiswife, and he was all equipped and was to begin a new sort of life whichwould, he felt, be good. Lightfoot, bearing her load gallantly, was notless jubilant. As a matter of plain fact, though Lightfoot had been happyin the cave in the forest, she had always recognized certain of itsdisadvantages, as had, in the end, her fearless husband. It is, in ageneral way, vexatious to live in a locality where, as soon as you leaveyour hearthstone, you incur, at least, a chance of an exciting anduncomfortable episode and then lodgment in the maw of some imposingcreature of the carnivora. Lightfoot was quite ready to seek with Ab theFire Valley of which he had so often told her. She was a plucky youngmatron, but there were extremes. 

There were no adventures on the journey worth relating. The Fire Valleywas reached at nightfall and the two struggled weariedly up the ruggedpath beside the creek which issued from the valley's western end. As theyreached the level Ab threw down his burden, as did Lightfoot, and as thewoman's eyes roved over the bright scene, she gave a great gasp ofdelight. "It is our home!" she cried. 

They ate and slept in the light and warmth of surrounding flames, andwhen the day came they began the work of enlarging what was to be theircave. But, though they worked earnestly, they did not care so much forthe prospective shelter as they might have done. What a cave had givenwas warmth and safety. Here they had both, out of doors and under theclear sky. It was a new and glorious life. Sometimes, though happy, thewoman worked a little wearily, and, not long after the settlement of thetwo in their new home, a child was born to them, a son, robust andsturdy, who came afterward to be known as Little Mok. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

A GREAT STEP FORWARD. 

There came to Ab and Lightfoot that comfort which comes with laboring forsomething desired. In all that the two did amid their pleasantsurroundings life became a greater thing because its dangers were solessened and its burdens lightened. But they were not long the sole humanbeings in the Fire Valley. There was room for many and soon Old Mok tookup his permanent abode with them, for he was most contented when with Ab, who seemed so like a son to him. A cave of his own was dug for Mok, where, with his carving and his making of arrows and spearheads, he washappy in his old age. Soon followed a hegira which made, for the firsttime, a community. The whole family of Ab, One-Ear, Red-Spot and Bark andBeech-leaf and the later ones, all came, and another cave was made, andthen old Hilltop was persuaded to follow the example and come withMoonface and Branch and Stone Arm, his big sons, and the group, thusestablished and naturally protected, feared nothing which might happen. The effect of daily counsel together soon made itself distinctly felt, and, under circumstances so different, many of the old ways were departedfrom. Half a mile to the south the creek, which made a bend adown itscourse, tumbled into the river and upon the river were wild fowl inabundance and in its depths were fish. The forest abounded in game andthere were great nut-bearing trees and the wild fruits in their season. Wild bees hovered over the flowers in the open places and there werehoards of wild honey to be found in the hollows of deadened trunks or inthe high rock crevices. A great honey-gatherer, by the way, wasLightfoot, who could climb so well, and who, furthermore, had her ownfancy for sweet things. It was either Bark or Moonface who usuallyaccompanied her on her expeditions, and they brought back great store ofthis attractive spoil. The years passed and the community grew, notmerely in numbers, but intelligence. Though always an adviser with OldMok, Ab's chief male companion in adventure was the stanch Hilltop, whowas a man worth hunting with. Having two such men to lead and with aforce so strong behind them the valley people were able to cope with themore dangerous animals venturesomely, and soon the number of these was sodecreased that even the children might venture a little way beyond thesteep barriers which had been raised where the flame circle had its gaps. The opening to the north was closed by a high stone wall and that alongthe creek defended as effectively, in a different way. They were havinggood times in the valley. 

At first, the home of all was in the caves dug in the soft rock of theledge, for of those who came to the novel refuge there was, for a season, none who could sleep in the bright light from the never-waning flames. There came a time, though, when, in midsummer, Ab grumbled at the heatwithin his cave and he and Lightfoot built for themselves an outsiderefuge, made of a bark-covered "lean-to" of long branches propped againstthe rock. Thus was the first house made. The habitation proved socomfortable that others in the valley imitated it and soon there was ahive of similar huts along the foot of the overhanging precipice. Whenthe short, sharp winter came, all did not seek their caves again, but thehuts were made warmer by the addition to their walls of bark and skins, and cave dwelling in the valley was finally abandoned. There was oneexception. Old Mok would not leave his warm retreat, and, as long as helived, his rock burrow was his home. 

There came also, as recruits, young men, friends of the young men of thevalley, and the band waxed and waned, for nothing could at once changethe roving and independent habits of the cave men. But there camechildren to the mothers, the broad Moonface being especially to the forein this regard, and a fine group of youngsters played and straggled upand down the creek and fought valiantly together, as cave childrenshould. The heads of families were friendly, though independent. Usuallythey lived each without any reference to anyone else, but when a greathunt was on, or any emergency called, the band came together and fought, for the time, under Ab's tacitly admitted leadership. And the young menbrought wives from the country round. 

The area of improvement widened. Around the Fire Village the zone ofsafety spread. The roar of the great cave tiger was less often heardwithin miles of the flaming torches of the valley so inhabited. Theregrew into existence something almost like a system of traffic, for, fromdistant parts, hitherto unknown, came other cave men, bringing skins, orflints, or tusks for carving, which they were eager to exchange for thenew weapon and for instruction in its uses. Ab was the first chieftain, the first to draw about him a clan of followers. The cave men were takingtheir first lesson in a slight, half unconfessed obedience, that firstessential of community life where there is yet no law, not even theunwritten law of custom. 

Running in and out among the children, sometimes pummeled by them, were ascore or two of gray, four-footed, bone-awaiting creatures, who, thoughas yet uncounted in such relation, were destined to furnish a factor inman's advancement. They were wolves and yet no longer wolves. They hadlearned to cling to man, but were not yet intelligent enough or taughtenough to aid him in his hunting. They were the dogs of the future, thefour-footed things destined to become the closest friends of men offuture ages, the descendants of the four cubs Ab and Oak had taken fromthe dens so many years before. 

It was humanizing for the children, this association of such a numbertogether, though they ran only a little less wildly than those who hadheretofore been born in the isolated caves. There came more of an averageof intelligence among them, thus associated, though but little moreattention was paid them than the cave men had afforded offspring in thepast. There had come to Ab after Little Mok two strong sons, Reindeer andSure-Aim, very much like him in his youth, but of them, until theyreached the age of help and hunting, he saw little. Lightfoot regardedthem far more closely, for, despite the many duties which had come uponher, there never disappeared the mother's tenderness and watchfulness. And so it was with Moonface, whose brood was so great, and who was like anoisy hen with chickens. So existed the hovering mother instinct with allthe women of the valley, though then the mothers fished and hunted andhad stirring events to distract them from domesticity and close affectionalmost as much as had the men. 

From this oddly formed community came a difference in certain ways ofdoing certain things, which changed man's status, which made a revolutionsecond only to that made by the bow and for which even men of thoughthave not accounted as they should have done, with the illustration beforethem in our own times of what has followed so swiftly the use of steamand, later, of electricity. Men write of and wonder at the strange gapbetween what are called the Paleolithic and the Neolithic ages, that is, between the ages when the spearheads and ax and arrowheads were of stonechipped roughly into shape, and the age of stone even-edged and smoothlypolished. There was really no gap worth speaking of. The Paleolithic agechanged as suddenly into the Neolithic as the age of horse power changedinto that of steam and electricity, allowance being always made for theslower transmission of a new intelligence in the days when men livedalone and when a hundred years in the diffusion of knowledge was as ayear to-day. 

One day Ab went into Old Mok's cave grumbling. "I shot an arrow into agreat deer, " he said, "and I was close and shot it with all my force, butthe beast ran before it fell and we had far to carry the meat. I tore thearrow from him and the blood upon the shaft showed that it had not gonehalf way in. I looked at the arrow and there was a jagged point uprisingfrom its side. How can a man drive deeply an arrow which is so rough? Areyou getting too old to make good spears and arrows, Mok?" And the manfumed a little. Old Mok made no reply, but he thought long and deeplyafter Ab had left the cave. Certainly Ab must have good arrows! Was thereany way of bettering them? And, the next day, the crippled old man mighthave been seen looking for something beside the creek where it found itsexit from the valley. There were stones ground into smoothness tossed upalong the shore and the old man studied them most carefully. Many timeshe had bent over a stream, watching, thinking, but this time he acted. Henoted a small sandstone block against which were rasping stones of hardertexture, and he picked this from the tumbling current and carried it tohis cave. Then, pouring a little water upon a depression in the stone'sface, he selected his best big arrowhead and began rubbing it upon thewet sandstone. It was a weary work, for flint and sandstone are differentthings and flint is much the harder, but there came a slow result. Smoother and smoother became the chipped arrowhead, and two dayslater--for all the waking hours of two days were required in the wearygrinding--Old Mok gave to Ab an arrow as smooth of surface and keen ofedge as ever flew from bow while stone was used. And not many yearspassed--as years are counted in old history--before the smoothed stoneweaponhead became the common property of cave men. The time of chippedstone had ended and that of smoothed stone had begun. There was no spacebetween them to be counted now. One swiftly became the other. It was amatter of necessity, this exhibition of enterprise and sense by the earlyman in the prompt general utilization of a new discovery. And not alonein the improvements in means which came when men of the hunting type wereso gathered in a community were the bow and the smoothed implements, though these were the greatest of the discoveries of the epoch. Thefishermen who went to the river were not content with the raft-likedevices of the aquatic Shell People and learned, in time, that hollowedlogs would float and that, with the aid of fire and flint axes, a greatlog could be hollowed. And never a Phoenician ship-builder, never aFulton of the steamer, never a modern designer of great yachts, stoodhigher in the estimation of his fellows than stood the expert in themaking of the rude boats, as uncouth in appearance as the river-horsewhich sometimes upset them, but from which men could, at least, let downtheir lines or dart their spears to secure the fish in the teemingwaters. And the fishermen had better spears and hooks now, for comparisonwas necessarily always made among devices, and bone barbs and hooks werewhittled out from which the fish no longer often floundered. There came, in time, the making of rude nets, plaited simply from the tough marshgrasses, but they served the purpose and lessened somewhat the gravity ofthe great food question. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

FACING THE RAIDER. 

One day, at noon, a man burst, panting, through the wide open entrance tothe Fire Valley. His coat of skin was rent and hung awry and, as allcould see when he staggered down the pathway, the flesh was torn from onecheek and arm, and down his leg on one side was the stain of dried blood. He was exhausted from his hurt and his run and his talk was, at first, almost unmeaning. He was met by some of the older and wiser among thosewho saw him coming and to their questions answered only by demanding Ab, who came at once. The hard-breathing and wounded man could only utter thewords "Big tiger, " when he pitched forward and became unconscious. Buthis words had been enough. Well understood was it by all who listenedwhat a raid of the cave tiger meant, and there was a running to thegateway and soon was raised the wall of ready stone, upbuilt so high thateven the leaping monster could not hope to reach its summit. Later thestory of the wounded, but now conscious and refreshed runner, was toldwith more of detail and coherence. 

The messenger brought out what he had to tell gaspingly. He had lost muchblood and was faint, but he told how there had taken place somethingawful in the village of the Shell Men. It was but little after dusk thenight before when the Shell Men were gathered together in merrymakingafter good fishing and lucky gathering of what there was to eat along theshores of the shell fish and the egg-laying turtles and the capture of ahuge river-horse. It had been, up to midnight, one of the greatest andmost joyous meetings the Shell People had joined in for many years. Theywere close-gathered and prosperous and content, and though there wasdaily turmoil and risk of death upon the water and sometimes as greatrisk upon the land, yet the village fringing the waters had grown, andthe midden--the "kitchen-midden" of future ages--had raised itselfsteadily and now stretched far up and down the creek which was a riverbranch and far backward from the creek toward the forest which ended withthe uplands. They had learned to dread the forest little, the waterpeople, but from the forest now came what made for each in all thevillage a dread and horror. The cave tiger had been among them!

The Shell People had gathered together upon the sward fronting their lineof shallow caves and one of them, the story-teller and singer, waschanting aloud of the river-horse and the great spoil which was theirs, when there was a hungry roar and the yell or shriek of all, men or womennot too stricken by fear to be unable to utter sound, and then the leapinto their midst of the cave tiger! Perhaps the story-teller's chant hadcalled the monster's attention to him, perhaps his attitude attracted it;whatever may have been the influence, the tiger seized the singer andleaped lightly into the open beyond the caves and, as lightly, with longbounds, into the blackness of the forest beyond. 

There was a moment of awe and horror and then the spirit of the braveShell Men asserted itself. There was grasping of weapons and anoutpouring in pursuit of the devourer. Easy to follow was the trail, fora monster beast carrying a man cannot drop lightly in his leaps. Therewas a brief mile or two traversed, though hours were consumed in thesearch, and then, as morn was breaking, the seekers came upon what wasleft of the singer. It was not much and it lay across the forest pathway, for the cave tiger did not deign to hide his prey. There came a halfmoaning growl from the forest. That growl meant lurking death. Then theseekers fled. There was consultation and a resolve to ask for help. Sothe runner, the man stricken down by a casual stroke in the tiger's rush, but bravest among his tribe, had come to the Fire Valley. 

To the panting stranger Ab had not much to say. He saw to it that the manwas refreshed and cared for and that the deep scars along his side weredressed after the cave man's fashion. But through the night whichfollowed the great cave leader pondered deeply. Why should men thus liveand dread the cave tiger? Surely men were wiser than any beast! This onemonster must, anyhow, be slain!

But little it mattered to all surrounding nature that the strong man inthe Fire Valley had resolved upon the death of the cave tiger. The tigerwas yet alive! There was a difference in the pulse of all the woodland. There was a hush throughout the forest. The word, somehow, went to everynerve of all the world of beasts, "Sabre-Tooth is here!" Even the hugecave bear shuffled aside as there came to him the scent of the invader. The aurochs and the urus, the towering elk, the reindeer and the lesserhorned and antlered things fled wildly as the tainted air brought to themthe tale of impending murder. Only the huge rhinoceros and mammoth stoodtheir ground, and even these were terror-stricken with regard for theirguarded young whenever the tiger neared them. The rhinoceros stood then, fierce-fronted and dangerous, its offspring hovering by its flanks, andthe mammoths gathered in a ring encircling their calves and presenting anoutward range of tusks to meet the hovering devourer. The dread was allabout. The forest became seemingly nearly lifeless. There was lessbarking and yelping, less reckless playfulness of wild creatures, lessrustling of the leaves and pattering along the forest paths. There wasfear and quiet, for Sabre-Tooth had come!

The runner, refreshed and strengthened by food and sleep, appeared beforeAb in the morning and told his story more in detail and got in return theshort answer: "We will go with you and help you and your people. Tigersmust be killed!"

Rarely before had man gone out voluntarily to hunt the great cave tiger. He had, sometimes in awful strait, defended himself against the monsteras best he could, but to seek the encounter where the odds were so greatagainst him was an ugly task. Now the man-slayer was to be the pursuedinstead of the pursuer. It required courage. The vengeful wounded manlooked upon Ab with a grim, admiring regard. "You fear not?" he said. 

There was bustling in the valley and soon a stalwart dozen men were armedwith bow and spear and the journey was taken up toward the Shell Men'shome. The village was reached at mid-day and as the little troop emergedfrom the forest the death wail fell upon their ears. "The tiger has comeagain!" exclaimed the runner. 

It was true. The tiger had come again! Once more with his stunning roarhe had swept through the village and had taken another victim, a woman, the wife of one of the head men. Too benumbed by fear, this time, to actat once, the Shell Men had not pursued the great brute into the darkness. They had but ventured out in the morning and followed the trail and foundthat the tiger had carried the woman in very nearly the same direction ashe had borne the man and that what remained from his gorging of the nightlay where his earlier feast had been. It was the first tragedy almostrepeated. 

The little group of Fire Valley folk entered the village and werereceived with shouts from the men, while from the throats of the womenstill rose the death wail. There were more people about the huts than Abhad ever seen there and he recognized at once among the group many of thecave men from the East, strong people of his own kind. As the woundedrunner had gone to the Fire Valley, so another had been sent to the East, to call upon another group for aid, and the Eastern cave people, underthe leadership of a huge, swarthy man called Boarface, had come to learnwhat the strait was and to decide upon what degree of help they couldafford to give. Between these Eastern and the Western cave men there wasa certain coldness. There was no open enmity, though at some time in thepast there had been family battles and memories of feuds were stillexistent. But Ab and Boarface met genially and there was not a trace ofdifference now. Boarface joined readily in the council which was held anddecided that he would aid in the desperate hunt, and certainly his aidwas not to be despised when his followers were looked upon. They were astalwart lot. 

The way was taken by the gathered fighting men toward where, across theforest path, lay part of a woman. As the place was neared the bandgathered close together and there were outpointing spears, just as themammoths' tusks outpointed when the beasts guarded their young from thething now hunted. But there came no attack and no sound from the forest. The tiger must be sleeping. Beneath a huge tree bordering the pathway laywhat remained of the woman's body. Fifty feet above, and almost directlyover this dreadful remnant of humanity, shot out a branch as thick as aman's body. There was consultation among the hunters and in this Ab tookthe lead, while Boarface and the Shell Men who had come to help assentedreadily. No need existed for the risk of an open fight with this greatbeast. Craft must be used and Ab gave forth his swift commands. 

The Fire Valley leader had seen to it that his company had brought whathe needed in his effort to kill the tiger. There were two great tanned, tough urus hides. There were lengths of rhinoceros hide, cut thickly, which would endure a strain of more than the weight of ten brawny men. There was one spear, with a shaft of ash wood at least fifteen feet inlength and as thick as a man's wrist. Its head was a blade of hardestflint, but the spear was too heavy for a man's hurling. It had been madefor another use. 

There was little hesitation in what was done, for Ab knew well thequality of the work he had in hand. He unfolded his plan briefly and thenhe himself climbed to the treetop and out upon the limb, carrying withhim the knotted strip of rhinoceros hide. In the pouch of his skingarment were pebbles. He reached a place on the big limb overhanging thepath and dropped a pebble. It struck the earth a yard or two away fromwhat remained of the woman's body and he shouted to those below to dragthe mangled body to the spot where the pebble had hit the earth. Theywere about to do so when from the forest on one side of the path came aroar, so appalling in every way that there was no thought of anythingamong most of the workers save of sudden flight. The tiger was in thewood and very near and a scent had reached him. There was a flight whichleft upon the ground beneath the tree branches only old Hilltop and therough Boarface and some dozen sturdy followers, these about equallydivided between the East and the West men of the hills. There was swiftand sharp work then. 

The tiger might come at any moment, and that meant death to one at least. But those who remained were brave men and they had come far to encompassthis tiger's ending. They dragged what remained of the tiger's prey towhere the pebble had hit the earth. Ab, clinging and raging aloft, afarout upon the limb, shouted to Hilltop to bring him the spear and the urusskins, and soon the sturdy old man was beside him. Then, about two deepnotches in the huge shaft, thongs were soon tied strongly, and just belowits middle were attached the bag-shaped urus skins. Near its end therhinoceros thong was knotted and then it was left hanging from the limbsupported by this strong rope, while, three-fourths of the way down itslength, dangled on each side the two empty bags of hide. Short orderswere given, and, directed by Boarface, one man after another climbed thetree, each with a weight of stones carried in his pouch, and eachdelivering his load to old Hilltop, who, lying well out upon the limb, passed the stones to Ab, who placed them in the skin pouches on eitherside the suspended and threatening spear. The big skin pouches on eitherside were filling rapidly, when there came from the forest another roar, nearer and more appalling than before, and some of the workers below fledpanic-stricken. Ab shouted and frothed and foamed as the men ran. OldHilltop slid down the tree, ax in hand, followed by the dark Boarface, and one or two of the men below were captured and made to work again. Soon all the work which Ab had in mind was done. Above the path, justover what remained of the woman, hung the great spear, weighted with halfa thousand pounds of stone and sure to reach its mark should the tigerseek its prey again. The branch was broad and the line of rhinoceros skintaut, and Ab's flint knife was keen of edge. Only courage and calmnesswere needed in the dread presence of the monster of the time. Neither theswarthy Boarface nor the gaunt Hilltop wanted to leave him, but Ab forcedthem away. 

Not long to wait had the cave man, but the men who had been with him werealready distant. The shadows were growing long now, but the light wasstill from the sunshine of the early afternoon. The man lying along thelimb, knife in hand, could hear no sound save the soft swish of leavesagainst each other as the breeze of later day pushed its way through theforest, or the alarmed cries of knowing birds who saw on the groundbeneath them a huge thing slip along with scarce a sound from the impactof his fearfully clawed but padded feet as he sought the meal he hadprepared for himself. The great beast was approaching. The great manaloft was waiting. 

Into the open along the path came the tiger, and Ab, gripping the limbmore firmly, looked down upon the thing so closely and in daylight forthe first time in his life. Ab was certainly brave, and he was calm andwise and thinking beyond his time, but when he saw plainly this beastwhich had slipped so easily and silently from the forest, safe though hewas upon his perch, he was more than startled. The thing was so huge andwith an aspect so terrible to look upon!

The great cat's head moved slowly from side to side; the baleful eyesblazed up and down the pathway and the tawny muzzle was lifted to catchwhat burden there might be on the air. The beast seemed satisfied, emerging fairly into the sunlight. Immense of size but with the gracefullankness of the tigers of to-day, Sabre-Tooth somewhat resembled them, though, beside him, the largest inmate of the Indian jungle would appearbut puny. The creature Ab looked upon that day so long ago was beautiful, in his way. He was beautiful as is the peacock or the banded rattlesnake. There were color contrasts and fine blendings. The stripes upon him werewonderfully rich, and as he came creeping toward the body, he was assplendid as he was dreadful. 

With every nerve strained, but with his first impulse of something liketerror gone, Ab watched the devourer beneath him while his sharp flintknife, hard gripped, bore lightly against the taut rhinoceros-hide rope. The tiger began his ghastly meal but was not quite beneath the suspendedspear. Then came some distant sound in the forest and he raised his headand shifted his position. 

[Illustration: UPON THE STRONG SHAFT OF ASH THE MONSTER WAS IMPALED]

He was fairly under the spear now. The knife pressed firmly against therawhide was drawn back and forth noiselessly but with effectiveness. Suddenly the last tissue parted and the enormously weighted spear felllike a lightning-stroke. The broad flint head struck the tiger fairlybetween the shoulders, and, impelled by such a weight, passed through hishuge body as if it had met no obstacle. Upon the strong shaft of ash themonster was impaled. There echoed and reechoed through the forest a roarso fearful that even the hunters whom Ab had sent far away from the sceneof the tragedy clambered to the trees for refuge. The struggles of thepierced brute were tremendous beyond description, but no strength couldavail it now; it had received its death wound and soon the great tigerlay still, as harmless as the squirrel, frightened and hidden in hisnest. In wild triumph Ab slid to the ground and then the long cry tosummon his party went echoing through the wood. When the others found himhe had withdrawn the spear and was already engaged, flint knife in hand, in stripping from the huge body the glorious robe it wore. 

There was excitement and rejoicing. The terror had been slain! The ShellPeople were frantic in their exultation. Meanwhile Ab had called upon hisown people to assist him and the wonderful skin of the tiger was soonstretched out upon the ground, a glorious possession for a cave man. 

"I will have half of it, " declared Boarface, and he and Ab faced eachother menacingly. "It shall not be cut, " was the fierce retort. "It ismine. I killed the tiger!"

Strong hands gripped stone axes and there was chance of deadly fray thenand there, but the Shell People interfered and the Shell People excelledin number, and were a potent influence for peace. Ab carried away thesplendid trophy, but as Boarface and his men departed, there were blackfaces and threatening words. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

LITTLE MOK. 

Among all the children of Ab--and remarkable it was for the age--the bestloved was Little Mok, the eldest son. When the child, strong and joyous, was scarcely two years old, he fell from a ledge off the cliff where hehad climbed to play, and both his legs were broken. Strange to say hesurvived the accident in that time when the law of the survival of thefittest was almost invariable in its sternest and most purely physicaldemonstration. The mother love of Lightfoot warded off the last pitilessblow of nature, although the child, a hopeless cripple, never afterwalked. The name Little Mok was naturally given him, and before long thechild had won the heart, as well as the name, of the limping old maker ofaxes, spearheads and arrows. 

The closer ties of family life, as we know them now, existed but in theiroutlines to the cave man. The man and woman were faithful to each otherwith the fidelity of the higher animals and their children were cared forwith rough tenderness in their infancy. The time of absolute dependencewas made very short, though, and children very early were required tofind some of their own food, and taught by necessity to protectthemselves. But Little Mok, unable to take up for himself the burden ofan independent existence, was not slain nor left to die of neglect asmight have been another child thus crippled in the time in which helived. He, once spared, grew into the wild hearts of those closest to himand became the guarded and cherished one of the rude home of Ab andLightfoot, and to him was thus given the continuous love and care whichthe strong-limbed boys and girls of the family lost and never missed. 

It was a strange thing for the time. The child had qualities other thanthe negative ones of helplessness and weakness with which to bind to himthe hearts of those around him, but the primary fact of his entiredependence upon them was what made him the center of the little circle ofuntaught, untamed cave people who lived in the Fire Valley. He may havebeen the first child ever so cherished from such impulse. 

From his mother the child inherited a joyous disposition which nothingcould subdue. Often on the return home from some little expedition onwhich it had been practicable to take him, sitting on Lightfoot'sshoulder, or on the still stronger arm of old One-Ear, his silent, somewhat brooding grandfather, the little brown boy made the woods ringwith shrill bird calls, or the mimicry of animals, and ever his laughterfilled the spaces in between these sounds. Other children flocked aroundthe merry youngster, seeking to emulate his play of voice and theoldsters smiled as they saw and heard the joyous confusion about the tinyreveler. The excursions to the river were Little Mok's chief delight fromhis early childhood. He entered into the preparations for them with azest and keen enjoyment born of the presence of an adventurous spirit ina maimed body, and when the fishing party left the Fire Camp it wasincomplete if Little Mok was not carried lightly at the van, the life andjoy of the occasion. 

No one ever forgot the day when Little Mok, then about six years old, caught his first fish. His joy and pride infected all as he exhibited hisprize and boasted of what he would catch in the river next, and when, onthe return, Old Mok saluted him as the "Great Fisherman, " the elf'selation became too great for any expression. His little chest heaved, hiseyes flashed, and then he wriggled from Lightfoot's arms into the lap ofOld Mok, snuggled down into the old man's furs and hid his face there;and the two understood each other. 

It was soon after this great event of the first fish-catching thatRed-Spot, Ab's mother, died. She had never quite adapted herself to thenew life in the Fire Valley, and after a time she began to grow old veryfast. At last a fever attacked her and the end of her patient, busy lifecame. After her death One-Ear was much in Old Mok's cave, the two had solong been friends. There with them the crippled boy was often to befound. He was not always gay and joyous. Sometimes he lay for days on hisbed of leaves at home, in weakness and pain, silent and unlike himself. Then when Lightfoot's care had given him back a little strength, he wouldbeg to be taken to Old Mok's cave. There he could sleep, he said, awayfrom the noise and the lights of the outside world, and finally heclaimed and was allowed a nest of his own in the warmest and darkest nookof Old Mok's den, where he slept every night, and sometimes a good partof the day, when one of his times of pain and weakness was upon him. Hereduring many a long hour of work, experiment and argument, the wide eyesand quick ears of Little Mok saw and heard, while Ab, Mok and One-Earbent over their work at arrowhead or spear point, and talked of whatmight be done to improve the weapons upon which so much depended. Here, when no one else remained in the weary darkness of night and the halflight of stormy days Old Mok beguiled the time with stories, andsometimes in a hoarse voice even attempted to chant to his little hearersnatches of the wild singing tales of the Shell People, for the ShellPeople had a sort of story song. 

Once, when Lightfoot sat by Old Mok's fire, she told them of the timewhen she and Ab found themselves outside their cave, unarmed, with a bearto be eaten through before they could get into their door, and Little Moksurprised his mother and Old Mok by an outburst of laughter at the tale. He had a glimmering of humor, and saw the droll side of the adventure, aview which had not occurred to Lightfoot, nor to Ab. The little lad, ofthe world, yet not in it, saw vaguely the surprises, lights and shadesand contrasts of existence, and sometimes they made him laugh. The laughof the cave man was not a common event, and when it came was likely to besober and sardonic, at least it was so when not simply an evidence ofrude health and high animal spirits. Humor is one of the latest, as it isone of the most precious, grains shaken out of Time's hour-glass, butLittle Mok somehow caught a tiny bit of the rainbow gift, long before itstime in the world, and soon, with him, it was to disappear for centuriesto come. 

One day when Little Mok was brought back from an expedition to the river, he told Old Mok how he had sat long on the bank, too tired to fish, andhad just rested and feasted his eyes on the wood, the stream, the smalldarting creatures in it, the birds, and the animals which came to drink. Describing a herd of reindeer which had passed near him, Little Mok tookup a piece of Old Mok's red chalkstone and on the wall of the cave drew apicture of the animal. The veteran stared in surprise. The picture waswonderfully life-like in grasp and detail. The child owned that greatgift, the memory of sight, and his hand was cunning. Encouraged by hissuccess, the boy drew on, delighting Old Mok with his singular fidelityand skill. Then came hours and days of sketching and etching in the oldman's cave. The master was delighted. He brought out from their hidingplaces his choicest pieces of mammoth tusk or teeth of the river-horsefor Little Mok's etchings and carvings. And, as time passed, the youngartist excelled the old one, and became the pride and boast of his friendand teacher. Sometimes the little lad would work far into the night, forhe could not pause when he had begun a thing until it was complete--butthen he would sleep in his warm nest until noon the next day, crawlingout to cook a bit of meat for himself at the nearest fire, or sharing OldMok's meal, as was more convenient. 

While everything else in the Fire Valley was growing, developing andflourishing, Little Mok's frail body had ever grown but slowly, and aboutthe beginning of his twelfth year there appeared a change in him. Hebecame permanently weak and grew more and more helpless day by day. Hischerished excursions to the river, even his little journeys on oldOne-Ear's strong arm to the cliff top, from whence he could see the wholeworld at once, had all to be abandoned. 

When the winter snows began to whirl in the air Little Mok was lyingquietly on his bed, his great eyes looking wistfully up at Lightfoot, whoin vain taxed her limited skill and resources to tempt him to eat andbecome more sturdy. She hovered over him like a distressed mother birdover its youngling fallen from the nest, but, with all her efforts, shecould not bring back even his usual slight measure of health and strengthto the poor Little Mok. Ab came sometimes and looked sadly at the two andthen walked moodily away, a great weight on his breast. Old Mok wasalways at work, and yet always ready to give Little Mok water or turn hisweary little frame on its rude bed, or spread the furs over the wastedbody, and always Lightfoot waited and hoped and feared. 

And at last Little Mok died, and was buried under the stones, and thesnow fell over the lonely cairn under the fir trees outside the FireValley where his grave was made. 

Lightfoot was silent and sad, and could not smile nor laugh any more. Shelonged for Little Mok, and did not eat or sleep. One night Ab, trying tocomfort her, said, "You will see him again. "

"What do you mean?" cried Lightfoot. And Ab only answered, "You will seehim; he will come at night. Go to sleep, and you will see him. "

But Lightfoot could not sleep yet and for many a night her eyes closedonly when extreme fatigue compelled sleep toward the morning. 

And at last, after many days and nights, Lightfoot, when asleep, sawLittle Mok. Just as in life, she saw him, with all his familiar looks andmotions. But he did not stay long. And again and again she saw him, andit comforted her somewhat because he smiled. There had come to her such aheartache about him, lying out there under the snow and stones, with noone to care for him, that the smile warmed her heavy heart and she toldAb that she had seen Little Mok, only whispering it to him--for it wasnot well, she knew, to talk about such things--and she whispered to Ab, too, her anguish that Little Mok only came at night, and never when itwas day, but she did not complain. She only said: "I want to see him inthe daytime. "

And Ab could think of nothing to say. But that made him think more andmore. He felt drawn closer to Lightfoot, his wife, no longer a younggirl, but the mother of Little Mok, who was dead, and of all hischildren. 

In his mind arose, vaguely obscure, yet persistent, the idea that brutestrength and vigor, keen senses and reckless bravery were not, after all, the sole qualities that make and influence men. Old Mok, crippled anddisabled for the hunt and defense, was nevertheless a power not to bedespised, and Little Mok, the helpless child, had been still strongenough to win and keep the love of all the stalwart and rough cavepeople. Ab was sorry for Lightfoot. When in the spring the forlorn motherheld in her arms a baby girl a little brightness came into her eyesagain, and Ab, seeing this, was glad, but neither Ab nor Lightfoot everforgot their eldest and dearest, Little Mok. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE BATTLE OF THE BARRIERS. 

While Ab had been occupied by home affairs trouble for him and his peoplehad been brewing. By no means unknown to each other before the tiger huntwere Ab and Boarface. They had hunted together and once Boarface, withhalf a dozen companions, had visited the Fire Valley and had noted itsmany attractions and advantages. Now Boarface had gone away angry andmuttering, and he was not a man to be thought of lightly. His rage overthe memory of Ab's trophy did not decrease with the return to his ownregion. Why should this cave man of the West have sole possession of thatvalley, which was warm and green throughout the winter and where the wildbeasts could not enter? Why had he, this Ab, been allowed to go away withall the tiger's skin? Brooding enlarged into resolve and Boarfacegathered together his relations and adherents. "Let us go and take theFire Valley of Ab, " he said to them, and, gradually, though objectionswere made to the undertaking of an enterprise so fraught with danger, thelisteners were persuaded. 

"There are other fires far down the river, " said one old man. "Let us gothere, if it is fire we most need, and so we will not disturb nor angerAb, who has lived in his valley for many years. Why battle with Ab andall his people?"

But Boarface laughed aloud: "There are many other earth fires, " he said. "I know them well, but there is no other fire which chances to make aflaming fence about a valley close to the great rocks, and which haswater within the space it surrounds and which makes a wall against allthe wild beasts. We will fight and win the valley of Ab. "

And so they were led into the venture. They sought, too, the aid of theShell People in this raid, but were not successful. The Shell People werenot unfriendly to those of the Fire Valley, and had not Ab been reallythe one to kill the tiger? Besides, it was not wise for the watersidedwellers to engage in any controversy between the forest factions, forthe hill people had memories and heavy axes. A few of the younger andmore adventurous joined the force of Boarface, but the alliance had notribal sanction. Still, the force of the swarthy leader of the Easterncave men was by no means insignificant. It contained good fighting men, and, when runners had gone far and wide in the Eastern country, therewere gathered nearly ten score of hunters who could throw the spear orwield the ax and who were not fearful of their lives. The band led byBoarface started for the Fire Country, intending to surprise the peoplein the valley. They moved swiftly, but not so swiftly as a fleet youngman from the Shell People who preceded them. He was sent by the elders aday before the time fixed for the assault, and so Ab learned all aboutthe intended raid. Then went forth runners from the valley; then thematron Lightfoot's eyes became fiery, since Ab was threatened; then oldHilltop looked carefully over his spears, and poised thoughtfully hisgreat stone ax; then Moonface smote her children and gathered togethercertain weapons, and then Old Mok went into his cave and stayed there, working at none knew what. 

They came from all about, the Western cave men, for never in the valleyhad food or shelter been refused to any and the Eastern cave men were notloved. Many a quarrel over game had taken place between the raginghunters of the different tribes, and many a bloody single-handedencounter had come in the depths of the forest. The band was not a largeone, the Eastern men being far more numerous, but the outlook was not asfine as it might be for the advancing Boarface. The force assembledinside the valley was, in point of numbers, but little more than half hisown, but it was entrenched and well-armed, and there were those among thedefenders whom it was not well to meet in fight. But Boarface wasconfident and was not dismayed when his force crept into the open only tofind the ordinary valley entrance barred and all preparations made forgiving him a welcome of the warmer sort. There was what could not bethoroughly barricaded in so brief a time, the entrance where the brookissued at the west. This pass must be forced, for the straight, uprisingwall between the flames and across the opening to the north was somethingrelatively unassailable. It was too narrow and too high and sheer andthere were too many holes in the wall through which could be sent thosepiercing arrows which the Western cave men knew how to use so well. Thebattle must be up along the bed of the little creek. The water was low atthis season, so low that a man might wade easily anywhere, and there hadbeen erected only a slight barrier, enough to keep wild beasts away, forAb had never thought of invasion by human beings. The creek tumbleddownward, through passages, between straight-sided, ruggedly built stoneheaps, with spaces between wide enough to admit a man, but not any greatbeast of prey. There was no place where, by a man, the wall could noteasily be mounted and, above, there was no really good place of vantagefor the defenders. 

So the invading force, concealment of action being no longer necessary, ranged themselves along the banks of the creek to the west of the valleyand prepared for a rush. They had certain chances in their favor. Theywere strong men, who knew how to use their weapons well, and they were innumbers almost as two to one. Meanwhile, inside the valley, where theapproach and plans of the enemy had been seen and understood, there hadgone on swiftly, under Ab's stern direction, such preparation for thefray as seemed most adequate with the means at hand. 

The great advantage possessed was that the defenders, on firm footingthemselves, could meet men climbing, and so, a little further up thecreek than the beast-opposing wall, had been thrown up what was littlemore than a rude platform of rock, wide and with a broad expanse of top, on which all the valley's force might cluster in an emergency. Upon thisthe people were to gather, defending the first pass, if they could, byflights of spears and arrows and here, at the end, to win or lose. Thiswas the general preparation for the onslaught, but there had beenprecautions taken more personal and more involving the course of the mostimportant of the people of the valley. 

At the left of the gorge, where must come the invaders, the rock rosesheerly and at one place extended outward a shelf, high up, but reachedeasily from the Fire Valley side. There were consultations between Ab andthe angry and anxious and almost tearful Lightfoot. That charming lady, now easily the best archer of the tribe, had developed at once into afighting creature and now demanded that her place be assigned to her. With her own bow, and with arrows in quantity, it was decided that sheshould occupy the ledge and do all she could. Upon the ledge wascomparative safety in the fray, and Ab directed that she should go there. Old Hilltop said but little. It was understood, almost as a matter ofcourse, that he would be upon the barrier and there face, with Ab, thegreatest issue. The old man was by no means unsatisfactory to look uponas he moved silently about and got ready the weapons he might have touse. Gaunt, strong-muscled and resolute, he was worthy of admiration. Ever following him with her eyes, when not engaged in the chastisement ofone of her swart brood, was Moonface, for Moonface had long since learnedto regard her grizzled lord with love as well as much respect. 

There were other good fighting men and other women beside these mentionedwho would do their best, but these few were the dominant figures. Meanwhile, Boarface and his strong band had decided upon their plan ofattack and would soon rush up the bed of the shallow stream with all thebravery and ferocity of those who were accustomed to face death lightlyand to seize that which they wanted. 

The invaders came clambering up the creek's course, openly and withmenacing and defiant shouts, for any concealment was now out of thequestion. They had but few bows and could, under the conditions, send noarrow flight which would be of avail, but they had thews and sinews andspears and axes. As they came with such rush as men might make up atumbling waterway with slipping pebbles beneath the feet and forcedthemselves one by one between the heaped stone piles and fairly in frontof the barrier there was a discharge of arrows and more than one man, impaled by a stone-headed shaft, fell, to dabble feebly in the water, anddid not rise again. But there came a time in the fight when the bow mustbe abandoned. 

The assault was good and the demeanor of the men behind the barrier wasgood as well. Not more gallant was one group than the other for therewere splendid fighters in both ranks. The boasted short sword of theRomans, in times effeminate, as compared with these, afforded not in itswielding a greater test of personal courage than the handling of theflint-headed spear or the stone knife or chipped ax. There, all along thebarrier, was the real grappling of man and man, with further existence asthe issue. 

The invaders, losing many of their number, for arrows flew steadily and amass so large could not easily be missed even by the most bungling ofthose strong archers, swept upward to the barrier and then was amuscular, deadly tumult worth the seeing. To the south and nearest theside where Lightfoot was perched with her bow and great bunch of arrowsAb stood in front, while to his right and near the other end of the rudestone rampart was stationed old Hilltop, and he hurled his spears andslew men as they came. The fight became simply a death struggle, with theadvantage of position upon one side and of numbers on the other. And Aband Boarface were each seeking the other. 

So the struggle lasted for a long half hour, and when it ended there weredead and dying men upon the barrier, while the waters of the creek werereddened by the blood of the slain assailants. The assault now ebbed alittle. Neither Ab nor Hilltop had been injured in the struggle. As theinvaders pressed close Ab had noted the whish of an arrow now and thenand the hurt to one pressing him closely, and old Hilltop had heard thewild cries of a woman who hovered in his rear and hurled stones in thefaces of those who strove to reach him. And now there came a lull. 

Boarface had recognized the futility of scaling, under such conditions, asteep so well defended and had thought of a better way to gain his endand crush Ab and his people. He had heard the story of Ab's first adventinto the valley when, chased by the wolves, he leaped through the flame, and there came an inspiration to him! What one man had done others coulddo, and, with picked warriors of his band, he made a swift detour, while, at the same time, the main body rushed desperately upon the barrieragain. 

What had been good fighting before was better now. Lives were lost, andsoon all arrows were spent and all spears thrown, and then came but thedull clashing of stone axes. Ab raged up and down, and, ever in thefront, faced the oncoming foe and slew as could slay the strong andutterly desperate. More than once his life was but a toy of chance as mensprang toward him, two or three together, but ever at such moment theresang an arrow by his head and one of his assailants, pierced in throat orbody, fell back blindly, hampering his companions, whose heads Ab's greatax was seeking fiercely. And, all the time, nearer the northern end ofthe barrier, old Hilltop fought serenely and dreadfully. There were manydead men in the pools of the creek between the barrier and the entranceto the valley. And about Ab ever sang the arrows from the rocky shelf. 

There was wild clamor, the clash of weapons and the shouting ofbattle-crazed men but there was not enough to drown the sound of a screamwhich rose piercingly above the din. Ab recognized the voice of Lightfootand raised his eyes to see the woman, regardless of her own safety, standing upright and pointing up the valley. He knew that somethingmeaning life and death was happening and that he must go. He leapedbackward and a huge Western cave man sprang to his place, to serve asbest he could. 

Not a moment too soon had that shrill cry reached the ears of thefighting man. He ran backward, shouting to a score of his people tofollow him as he ran, and in an instant recognized that he had beenoutwitted, at least for the moment, by the vengeful Boarface. As herushed to the east toward the wall of flame he saw a dark form passthrough its crest in a flying leap. There were others he knew wouldfollow. His own feat of long ago was being repeated by Boarface and hischosen group of best men!

It was not Boarface who leaped and it was hard for a gallant youth of theEastern cave men that he had strength and daring and had dashed ahead inthe assault, for he had scarcely touched the ground when there sankdeeply into his head a stone ax, impelled by the strongest arm of allthat region, and he was no more among things alive. Ab had reached thefire wall with the speed of a great runner while, close behind him, camehis eager following. 

The forces could see each other clearly enough now, and those on theoutside outnumbered those on the inside again by two to one. But thoseleaping the flames could not alight poised ready for a blow, and therewere adroit and vengeful axmen awaiting them. There was a momentary pausefor planning among the assailants, and then it was that Ab fumed over hisown lack of foresight. His chosen band who were with him now were allbowmen, and about the shoulder and chest of each was still slung hisweapon, but there were no more arrows. Each quiverful had been shot awayearly in the fight and then had come the spear and ax play. But what achance for arrows now, with that threatening band preparing for the rushand leap together, and, while out of reach of spear or ax, within easyreach of the singing little shafts! Oh, for the shafts now, those slenderbarbed things which were hurled in his new way! And, even as he thusraged, there came a feeble shout from down the valley behind him and hesaw something very good!

Limping, with effort, but resolutely forward, was a bent old man, bearingencircled within his long arms a burden which Ab himself could not havecarried for any distance without stress and labored breathing. The leanold Mok's arms were locked about a monster sheaf of straight flint-headedarrows, a sheaf greater in size than ever man had looked upon before. Thecrippled veteran had not been idle in his cave. He had worked upon thestore of shafts and flintheads he had accumulated, and here was theresult in a great emergency!

The old man cast his sheaf upon the ground and then sank down, somewhattotteringly, beside it. There needed no shout of command from Ab to tellthose about him what to do. There was one combined yell of suddenexultation, a rush together for the shafts and a swift filling of emptyquivers. It was but the work of a moment or two. Then something promptlyhappened. The great fellows, though acting without orders, shot almost"all together, " as the later English archers did, and so close justacross the flame wall was the opposing group that the meanest archer inall the lot could scarcely fail to reach a living target, and strongerarms drew back those arrows than were the arms of those who drewbowstring in the battles of mediæval history. With the first deadlyflight came a scattering outside and men lay tossing upon the ground intheir death agony. There was no cessation to the shot, though Boarfacesought fiercely to rally his followers, until all had fled beyond therange of the bowmen. Upon the ground were so many dead that the numbersof the two forces were now more nearly equal. But Boarface had bravefollowers. They ranged themselves together at a safe distance and thenstarted for the flame wall with a rush, to leap it all together. 

There was another arrow-flight as the onslaught came, and more men wentdown, but the charge could not be stopped. Over the low flame-crests shota great mass of bodies, there to meet that which was not good for them. The struggle was swift and deadly, but the forces were almost evenlymatched now and the insiders had the advantage. Boarface and Ab met faceto face in the melée and each leaped toward the other with a yell. Therewas to be a fight which must be excellent, for two strong leaders weremeeting and there were many lives at stake. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

OLD HILLTOP'S LAST STRUGGLE. 

Even as he leaped the flames, the desperate Boarface hurled at Ab afragment of stone, which was a thing to be wisely dodged, and the invaderwas fairly on his feet and in position to face his adversary as the axescame together. More active, more powerful, it may be, and certainly moreintelligent, was Ab than Boarface, but the leader of the assailants hadbeen a raider from early youth and knew how to take advantage. In thosefierce days to attain the death of an enemy, in any way, was thepractical end sought in a conflict. Close behind Boarface had leaped ayouth to whom the leader had given his commands before the onrush andwho, as he found his feet upon the valley's sward, sought, not anadversary face to face, but circled about the two champions, seeking onlyto get behind the leaping Ab while Boarface occupied his sole attention. The young man bore a great stone-headed club, a dreadful weapon in suchhands as his. The men struck furiously and flakes spun from the heavyaxes, but Boarface was being slowly driven back when there descended uponAb's shoulder a blow which swerved him and would certainly have felled aman with less heaped brawn to meet the impact. At the same instantBoarface made a fierce downward stroke and Ab leaped aside withoutparrying or returning it, for his arm was numbed. Another such blow fromthe new assailant and his life was lost, yet he dare not turn. That wouldbe his death. And now Boarface rushed in again and as the axes cametogether called to his henchman to strike more surely. 

And just then, just as it seemed to Ab the end was near, he heard behindhim the sharp twang of the bowstring which had sounded so sweetly at thevalley's other end and, with a groan, there pitched down upon the swardbeside him a writhing man whose legs drew back and forth in agony and whohad been pierced by an arrow shot fiercely and closely from behind anddriven in between his shoulder blades. He knew what it must mean. The armwhich had drawn that arrow to its head was that of a slight, strongcreature who was not a man. Lightfoot, wild with love and anxiety, hadshot past Old Mok just as he laid down his bundle of arrows, and, whenshe saw her husband's peril, had leaped forward with arrow upon stringand slain his latest assailant in the nick of time. Now, with arrownotched again and a face ablaze with murderous helpfulness, she hoverednear, intent only upon sending a second shaft into the breast ofBoarface. 

But there was no need. Unhampered now, Ab rushed in upon his enemy andrained such blows as only a giant could have parried. Boarface foughtdesperately, but it was only man to man, and he was not the equal of themaddened one before him. His ax flew from his hand as his wrist wasbroken by Ab's descending weapon, and the next moment he fell limply andhardly moved, for a second blow had sunk the stone weapon so deeply inhis head that the haft was hidden in his long hair. 

It was all over in a moment now. As Ab turned with a shout of triumphthere was a swift end to the little battle. There were brief encountershere and there, but the Eastern men were leaderless and lesswell-equipped than their foes, and though they fought as desperately ascornered wolves, there was no hope for them. Three escaped. They fledwildly toward the flame and leaped over and through its flickering yellowcrest and there was no pursuit. It was not a time for besieged men to beseeking useless vengeance. There came wild yells from the lower end ofthe valley where the greater fight was on. With a cry Ab gathered his mentogether and the victorious band ran toward the barrier again, there withoverwhelming force to end the struggle. Ever, in later years, did Abregret that his fight with Boarface had not ended sooner. To save an oldhero he had come too late. 

Boarface, when taking with him a strong band to the upper end of thevalley, had still left a supposably overwhelming force to fight its wayup and over the barrier. Ab away from the scene of struggle, old Hilltopassumed command. He was a fit man for such death-facing steadfastness aswas here required. 

Never had Ab been able to persuade Lightfoot's father to use or even trythe new weapon, the bow and arrow. He had no tender feeling toward moderninnovations. He had a clear eye and strong arm, and the ax and spear weregood enough for him! He recognized Ab's great qualities, but there weresome things that even a well-regarded son-in-law could not impose uponany elder family male. Among these was this twanging bow with its lightshaft, better fitted for a child's plaything than for real work amongmen. As for him, give him a heavy spear, with the blade well set inthongs, or a heavy ax, with the head well clinched in the sinew-boundwooden haft. There was rarely miss or failure to the spear-thrust or theax-stroke. And now, in proof of the soundness of his old-fashionedbelief, he staked ruggedly his life. There were few spears left. Therewere only axes on either side. And there stood old Hilltop upon thebarrier, while beside him and all across stood men as brave if not quiteas sturdy or as famous. 

In the rear of the line, noisy, sometimes fierce and sometimes weeping, were the women, whose skill was only a little less than that of the malesand who were even more ruthless in all feeling toward the enemy. Andstill easily chief among these, conspicuous by her noisy and uncaringdemeanor of mingled alarm and vengefulness, was the raging Moonface. Sherushed up close beside her husband's defending group and still hurledstones and hurled them most effectively. They went as if from a catapult, and more than one bone or head was broken that day by those missiles fromthe arm of this squat savage wife and mother. But the men below wereoutnumbering and brave, and now, maddened by different emotions, the lustof conquest, the murderous anger over slain companions and, underlyingall, the thought of ownership of this fair and warm and safe place ofhome, were resolute in their attack. They had faith in their leader, Boarface, and expected confidently every moment an onslaught to aidthem from above. And so they came up the watery slope, one pressingblood-thirstily behind the other with an earnestness none but men asstrong and well equipped and as brave or braver could hope to withstand. The closing struggle was desperate. 

Hilltop stood to the front, between two rocks some few yards apart, overwhich bubbled the shallow creek, and between which was the main upwardentrance to the valley. He stood upon a rock almost as flat as if someexpert engineer of ages later had planed its surface and then adjusted itto a level, leaving the shallow waters tumbling all about it. The rockout-jutted somewhat on the slope and there must necessarily be somelittle climb to face the aged defender. On either side was a stretch ofdown-running, gradually-sloping waterfall, full of great boulders, embarrassing any straight rush of a group together, but, between andupward, sprang swart men, and facing them on either side of old Hilltopbeyond the rocks were the remainder of the mass of cave men upon whom hedepended for making good the defense of the whole barrier. Beside him, inthe center of the battle, were the two creatures in the world upon whomhe could most depend, his stalwart and splendid sons, Strong-Arm andBranch. With them, as gallant if not as strong as his great brother, stood braced the eager Bark. They were ready, these young men, but, as itchanced, there could be, at the beginning of the strong clamber of thefoe, only one man to first meet them. All were behind this man at thefront, for the flat rock came to something like a point. He stood there, hairy and bare except for the skin about his hips, and with only an ax inhis hand, but this did not matter so much as it might have done, for onlyaxes were borne by the up-clambering assailants. The throwing of an axwas a little matter to the sharp-eyed and flexile-muscled cave men. Whocould not dodge an ax was better out of the way and out of the world. Ameeting such as this impending must be a matter only of close personalencounter and fencing with arm and wooden handle and flint-head of edgeand weight. 

There was a clash of stone together, and, one after another, strongcreatures with cloven skulls toppled backward, to fall into the babblingcreek, their blood helping to change its coloring. Leaping from side toside across his rock, along each edge of which the water rushed, oldHilltop met the mass of enemies, while those who passed were brained byhis great sons or by those behind. But the forces were unequal and theplane in front was not steep enough nor the water deep enough to preventsomething like an organized onslaught. With fearful regularity, upliftedand thrown aside occasionally in defense to avoid a stroke, the ax ofHilltop fell and there was more and more fine fighting and fine dying. Oneither side were men doing scarcely less stark work. Hilltop's two sons, on either side of him now, as the assailants, crowded by those behind, pressed closer, fully justified their parentage by what they did, andBark was like a young tiger. But the onslaught was too strong. There weretoo many against too few. There were loud cries, a sudden impulse and, though axes rose and fell and more men tumbled backward into the water, the rock was swept upon and won and the old man stood alone amid hisfoes, his sons having been carried backward by the pressure of the mass. There was sullen battling on the upper level, but there was no fray sored as that where Hilltop, old as he was, swung his awful ax among theclose crowding throng of enemies about him. Four fell with skulls cleanlysplit before a giant of the invaders got behind the gray defender of thepass. Then an ax came crashing down and old Hilltop pitched forward, deadbefore he fell into the cool waters of the pool below. 

There was a yell of exultation from the upward-climbing Eastern cave menas they saw the most dangerous of their immediate enemies go down, but, before the echoes had come back, the sound was lost in that which camefrom the height above them. It was loud and threatening, but not the yellof their own kind. 

There had come sweeping down the valley the victors in the fight at theEastern end. Ab, with the lust of battle fully upon him as he heard thewild shriek of Moonface, who had seen her husband fall, was a creature ashungry for blood as any beast of all the forest, and his followers werescarce less terrible. Swift and dreadful was the encounter whichfollowed, but the issue was not doubtful for a moment. The barrier'sliving defenders became as wild themselves as were these conqueringallies. The fight became a massacre. Flying hopelessly up the valley, theremnant, only some twenty, of the Eastern cave men ran into the vacantbig cave for refuge and there, barricaded, could keep their pursuers atbay for the time at least. 

There was no immediate attack made upon the remnant of the assailants whohad thus sought refuge. They were safely imprisoned, and about the cave'sentrance there lay down to eat and rest a body of vengeful men of twicetheir number. The struggle was over, and won, but there was littlehappiness in the Fire Valley which had been so well defended. 

Moonface, wildly fighting, had seen her husband's death. With the rush ofAb's returning force which changed the tide of battle she had been sweptaway, shrieking and seeking to force herself toward the rock whereon oldHilltop had so well demeaned himself. Now there emerged from one side awoman who spoke to none but who clambered down the rough waterway andwaded into the little pool below the rock and stooped and liftedsomething from the water. It was the body of the brave old hunter of thehills. With her arms clutched about it the woman began the clamber upwardagain, shaking her head dumbly, when rude warriors, touched somehow, despite the coarse texture of their being, came wading in to assist herwith the ghastly burden. She emerged with it upon the level and laid itgently down upon the grass, but still uttered no word until her childrengathered and the weeping Lightfoot came to her and put her arms abouther, and then from the uncouth creature's eyes came a flood of tears anda gasp which broke the tension, and the death wail sounded through thevalley. The poor, affectionate animal was a little nearer herself again. 

There were dead men lying beside the flames at the Eastern end of thevalley, and these were brought by the men and tossed carelessly into thepools below where lay so many others of the slain. There were stormclouds gathering and all the valley people knew what must happen soon. The storm clouds burst; the little creek, transformed suddenly into atorrent by the fall of water from the heights above, swept the dead menaway together to the river and so toward the sea. Of all the invadingforce there remained alive only the three who had re-leaped the flamesand those imprisoned in the cave. 

There was council that night between Ab and his friends and, as theeasiest way of disposing of the prisoners in the cave, it was proposed toblock the entrance and allow the miserable losers in battle to therestarve at their leisure. But the thoughtful Old Mok took Ab aside andsaid:

"Why not let them live and work for us? They will do as you say. This wasthe place they wanted. They can stay and make us stronger. "

And Ab saw the reason of all this and the hungry, imprisoned men weregiven the alternative of death or obedient companionship. They did nothesitate long. The warmth of the valley and its other advantages werewhat they had come for and they had no narrow views outside the food andfuel question. The valley was good. They accepted Ab's authority and cameout and fed and, with their wives and children, who were sent for, becameof the valley people. 

This place of refuge and home and fortress was acquiring an importance. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

OUR VERY GREAT GRANDFATHER. 

And the years passed. One still afternoon in autumn a gray, hairy man, aman approaching old age, but without weakness of arm or stiffness ofjoint, as yet, sat on the height overlooking the village. He looked intranquil comfort, now down into the little valley, and now across it intothe wood beyond, where the sun was approaching the treetops. He had cometo the hill with the mere instinct of the old hunter seeking to becompletely out of doors, but he had brought work with him and wasengaged, when not looking thoughtfully far away, in finishing a huge bow, the spring of which he occasionally tested. Every motion showed theretained possession of tremendous strength as well as the knowledge ofits use to most advantage. A very hale old man was Ab, the great hunterand head of the people of the Fire Valley. 

A few yards away from Ab, leaning against the trunk of a beech, stoodLightfoot, her quick glance roving from place to place and as keen, seemingly, as ever. These two were still most content when together, andit was well for each that they had in the same degree withstood what theyears bring. The woman had, perhaps, changed less than the man. Her hairwas still dark and her step had not grown heavy. She had changed in faceand expression rather than in form. There had grown in her eyes and abouther mouth the indefinable lines and tokens, pathetic and sweet, of care, of sorrow, of suffering and of quiet gladness, in short, of motherhood. 

As twilight came on the woods rang with the shouts and laughter of aparty of young men who were coming home from some forest trip. Ab, looking down the valley, over the flashing flame, into the forest hills, in whose deep shade lay Little Mok, old Hilltop and Ab's mother, couldsee the lusty youths in the village, running, leaping, wrestling andthrowing spears, axes and stones in competition. A strange oppressioncame upon him and he thought of Oak lying in the ground alone on thehillside, miles away. Ab felt, even now, the strong, helpful arm of hisfriend around him, just as it was in the evening journey from the Feastof the Mammoth homeward, when he had been rescued from almost certaindeath by Oak. A lump rose in the throat of the man of many battles andmany trials. He shook himself, as if to shake off the memory that plaguedhim. Oak came not often to trouble Ab's peace now, and when he came itwas always at night. Morning never found him near the Fire Village. 

The young hunters, rioting like the young men in the valley, were passingnow. Ab looked upon them thoughtfully. He felt dimly a desire to speak tothem, to tell them something about the hurts they might avoid, and howhard it was to have a great, heavy load on one's chest at times--allone's life--but the cave man was, as to the emotions, inarticulate. Abcould no more have spoken his half defined feelings than the tree couldcry out at the blow of the ax. 

The woman left the beech tree and approached the man and touched his arm. His eyes turned upon her kindly and after she had seated herself besidehim, there was laughing talk, for Lightfoot was declaring her desperatecondition of hunger and demanding that he return to the valley with her. She examined his bow critically and had an opinion to express, for sofine a shot as she might surely talk a little about so manful a thing asthe making of the weapon. And as the sun sank lower and the valley fellinto shadow, the two descended together, a pair who, after all, hadreason to be glad that they had lived. 

And the children these two left were bold and strong and dominant bynature, and maintained the family leadership as the village grew. Withlater generations came trouble vast and dire to the people of the land, but it was not the part of this proud and seasoned and well-weaponedgroup to flee like wild beasts when came drifting to the Westward thefirst feeble vanguard of the Aryan overflow. The vanguard was overthrown;its men made serfs and its women mothers. Other cave men in other regionsmight escape to the Northward as the wave increased, there to becomefrost-bitten Lapps or the "Skrallings" of the Norsemen, the Eskimo ofto-day, but not so the people of the great Fire Valley or their stern andsturdy vassals for half a hundred miles about. No child's play was it forthose of another and still rude civilization to meet them in theirfastnesses, and the end of the struggle--for this region at least--was, not a conquest, but a blending, a blending good for each of the twoforces. 

And as the face of Nature changed with the ages, as the later glacialcold wavered and fluctuated and forced back and forth migrations of manand beast, still the first-formed group retained coherence, retained itbeyond great natural cataclysms, retained it to historic ages, to wieldlong the smoothed stone weapons, and, afterward, the bronze axes, and todiverge in many branches of contentious defenders and invaders, to becomeIberian and Gaul and Celt and Saxon, to fight family against family, andto commingle again in these later times. 

Upon the beach the other day, watching the waves lap toward her, sat awoman, cultured, very beautiful and wise in woman's way and among thefairest and the best of all earth can produce. There are many such asshe. Barely longer ago than the other day, as time is counted, a ruggedman, gentle as resolute and noble, became the enshrined hero of a vastrepublic, when he struck from slave limbs the shackles of four millionpeople. In an insular home across the sea, interested still in theworld's affairs, is an old man vigorous in his octogenarianism, a power, though out of power, a figure to be a monument in personal history, agreat man. But a few years ago the whole world stood with bowed headwhile into the soil he loved was lowered the coffin of one who has boundthe nations together in sympathy for _Les Misérables_ of the earth. In ahome on the continent broods watchfully a bald-headed giant in cavalryboots, one who has dictated arbitrarily, as premier, the policy of theempire he has largely made. The woman upon the sands, the greatliberator, the man wonderful even in old age, the heart-stirring writer, the man of giant personality physical and mental, have had reason toboast alike a strain of the blood of Ab and Lightfoot. In the veins ofeach has danced the transmitted product of the identical corpuscles whichcoursed in the veins of those two who first found a home in the FireValley. Strong was primitive man; adroit, patient and faithful wasprimitive woman; he, the strongest, she, the fairest and cleverest of thetime, could protect their offspring, breed and care for great children ofsimilar powers and so insure a lasting race. Thus has the good blue bloodcome down. This is not romance, this is not fancy; this is but faithfulhistory. 

THE END