As I stood looking down upon
that sad and lonely mound, wrapped
in the most dismal of reflections
and premonitions, I was suddenly
seized from behind and thrown
to earth. As I fell, a warm body
fell on top of me, and hands
grasped my arms and legs. When
I could look up, I saw a number
of giant fingers pinioning me
down, while others stood about
surveying me. Here again was
a new type of man--a higher type
than the primitive tribe I had
just quitted. They were a taller
people, too, with better-shaped
skulls and more intelligent faces.
There were less of the ape characteristics
about their features, and less
of the negroid, too. They carried
weapons, stone-shod spears, stone
knives, and hatchets-- and they
wore ornaments and breech-cloths--the
former of feathers worn in their
hair and the latter made of a
single snake-skin cured with
the head on, the head depending
to their knees.
Of course I did not take in
all these details upon the instant
of my capture, for I was busy
with other matters. Three of
the warriors were sitting upon
me, trying to hold me down by
main strength and awkwardness,
and they were having their hands
full in the doing, I can tell
you. I don't like to appear conceited,
but I may as well admit that
I am proud of my strength and
the science that I have acquired
and developed in the directing
of it--that and my horsemanship
I always have been proud of.
And now, that day, all the long
hours that I had put into careful
study, practice and training
brought me in two or three minutes
a full return upon my investment.
Californians, as a rule, are
familiar with ju-jutsu, and I
especially had made a study of
it for several years, both at
school and in the gym of the
Los Angeles Athletic Club, while
recently I had had, in my employ,
a Jap who was a wonder at the
art.
It took me just about thirty
seconds to break the elbow of
one of my assailants, trip another
and send him stumbling backward
among his fellows, and throw
the third completely over my
head in such a way that when
he fell his neck was broken.
In the instant that the others
of the party stood in mute and
inactive surprise, I unslung
my rifle--which, carelessly,
I had been carrying across my
back; and when they charged,
as I felt they would, I put a
bullet in the forehead of one
of them. This stopped them all
temporarily--not the death of
their fellow, but the report
of the rifle, the first they
had ever heard. Before they were
ready to attack me again, one
of them spoke in a commanding
tone to his fellows, and in a
language similar but still more
comprehensive than that of the
tribe to the south, as theirs
was more complete than Ahm's.
He commanded them to stand back
and then he advanced and addressed
me.
He asked me
who I was, from whence I came
and what my intentions
were. I replied that I was a
stranger in Caspak, that I was
lost and that my only desire
was to find my way back to my
companions. He asked where they
were and I told him toward the
south somewhere, using the Caspakian
phrase which, literally translated,
means "toward the beginning." His
surprise showed upon his face
before he voiced it in words. "There
are no Galus there," he said.
"I tell you," I said angrily, "that
I am from another country, far
from Caspak, far beyond the high
cliffs. I do not know who the
Galus may be; I have never seen
them. This is the farthest north
I have been. Look at me--look
at my clothing and my weapons.
Have you ever seen a Galu or
any other creature in Caspak
who possessed such things?"
He had to admit
that he had not, and also that
he was much
interested in me, my rifle and
the way I had handled his three
warriors. Finally he became half
convinced that I was telling
him the truth and offered to
aid me if I would show him how
I had thrown the man over my
head and also make him a present
of the "bang-spear," as he called
it. I refused to give him my
rifle, but promised to show him
the trick he wished to learn
if he would guide me in the right
direction. He told me that he
would do so tomorrow, that it
was too late today and that I
might come to their village and
spend the night with them. I
was loath to lose so much time;
but the fellow was obdurate,
and so I accompanied them. The
two dead men they left where
they had fallen, nor gave them
a second glance--thus cheap is
life upon Caspak.
These people
also were cave-dwellers, but
their caves showed the result
of a higher intelligence that
brought them a step nearer to
civilized man than the tribe
next "toward the beginning." The
interiors of their caverns were
cleared of rubbish, though still
far from clean, and they had
pallets of dried grasses covered
with the skins of leopard, lynx,
and bear, while before the entrances
were barriers of stone and small,
rudely circular stone ovens.
The walls of the cavern to which
I was conducted were covered
with drawings scratched upon
the sandstone. There were the
outlines of the giant red-deer,
of mammoths, of tigers and other
beasts. Here, as in the last
tribe, there were no children
or any old people. The men of
this tribe had two names, or
rather names of two syllables,
and their language contained
words of two syllables; whereas
in the tribe of Tsa the words
were all of a single syllable,
with the exception of a very
few like Atis and Galus. The
chief's name was To-jo, and his
household consisted of seven
females and himself. These women
were much more comely, or rather
less hideous than those of Tsa's
people; one of them, even, was
almost pretty, being less hairy
and having a rather nice skin,
with high coloring.
They were all much interested
in me and examined my clothing
and equipment carefully, handling
and feeling and smelling of each
article. I learned from them
that their people were known
as Bandlu, or spear-men; Tsa's
race was called Sto-lu-- hatchet-men.
Below these in the scale of evolution
came the Bo-lu, or club-men,
and then the Alus, who had no
weapons and no language. In that
word I recognized what to me
seemed the most remarkable discovery
I had made upon Caprona, for
unless it were mere coincidence,
I had come upon a word that had
been handed down from the beginning
of spoken language upon earth,
been handed down for millions
of years, perhaps, with little
change. It was the sole remaining
thread of the ancient woof of
a dawning culture which had been
woven when Caprona was a fiery
mount upon a great land-mass
teeming with life. It linked
the unfathomable then to the
eternal now. And yet it may have
been pure coincidence; my better
judgment tells me that it is
coincidence that in Caspak the
term for speechless man is Alus,
and in the outer world of our
own day it is Alalus.
The comely woman of whom I
spoke was called So-ta, and she
took such a lively interest in
me that To-jo finally objected
to her attentions, emphasizing
his displeasure by knocking her
down and kicking her into a corner
of the cavern. I leaped between
them while he was still kicking
her, and obtaining a quick hold
upon him, dragged him screaming
with pain from the cave. Then
I made him promise not to hurt
the she again, upon pain of worse
punishment. So-ta gave me a grateful
look; but To-jo and the balance
of his women were sullen and
ominous.
Later in the evening So-ta
confided to me that she was soon
to leave the tribe.
"So-ta soon to be Kro-lu," she
confided in a low whisper. I
asked her what a Kro-lu might
be, and she tried to explain,
but I do not yet know if I understood
her. From her gestures I deduced
that the Kro-lus were a people
who were armed with bows and
arrows, had vessels in which
to cook their food and huts of
some sort in which they lived,
and were accompanied by animals.
It was all very fragmentary and
vague, but the idea seemed to
be that the Kro-lus were a more
advanced people than the Band-lus.
I pondered a long time upon all
that I had heard, before sleep
came to me. I tried to find some
connection between these various
races that would explain the
universal hope which each of
them harbored that some day they
would become Galus. So-ta had
given me a suggestion; but the
resulting idea was so weird that
I could scarce even entertain
it; yet it coincided with Ahm's
expressed hope, with the various
steps in evolution I had noted
in the several tribes I had encountered
and with the range of type represented
in each tribe. For example, among
the Band-lu were such types as
So-ta, who seemed to me to be
the highest in the scale of evolution,
and To-jo, who was just a shade
nearer the ape, while there were
others who had flatter noses,
more prognathous faces and hairier
bodies. The question puzzled
me. Possibly in the outer world
the answer to it is locked in
the bosom of the Sphinx. Who
knows? I do not.
Thinking the thoughts of a
lunatic or a dope-fiend, I fell
asleep; and when I awoke, my
hands and feet were securely
tied and my weapons had been
taken from me. How they did it
without awakening me I cannot
tell you. It was humiliating,
but it was true. To-jo stood
above me. The early light of
morning was dimly filtering into
the cave.
"Tell me," he demanded, "how
to throw a man over my head and
break his neck, for I am going
to kill you, and I wish to know
this thing before you die."
Of all the ingenuous declarations
I have ever heard, this one copped
the proverbial bun. It struck
me as so funny that, even in
the face of death, I laughed.
Death, I may remark here, had,
however, lost much of his terror
for me. I had become a disciple
of Lys' fleeting philosophy of
the valuelessness of human life.
I realized that she was quite
right--that we were but comic
figures hopping from the cradle
to the grave, of interest to
practically no other created
thing than ourselves and our
few intimates.
Behind To-jo stood So-ta. She
raised one hand with the palm
toward me--the Caspakian equivalent
of a negative shake of the head.
"Let me think about it," I
parried, and To-jo said that
he would wait until night. He
would give me a day to think
it over; then he left, and the
women left--the men for the hunt,
and the women, as I later learned
from So-ta, for the warm pool
where they immersed their bodies
as did the shes of the Sto-lu. "Ata," explained
So-ta, when I questioned her
as to the purpose of this matutinal
rite; but that was later.
I must have lain there bound
and uncomfortable for two or
three hours when at last So-ta
entered the cave. She carried
a sharp knife--mine, in fact,
and with it she cut my bonds.
"Come!" she said. "So-ta
will go with you back to the
Galus.
It is time that So-ta left the
Band-lu. Together we will go
to the Kro-lu, and after that
the Galus. To-jo will kill you
tonight. He will kill So-ta if
he knows that So-ta aided you.
We will go together."
"I will go with you to the
Kro-lu," I replied, "but then
I must return to my own people
`toward the beginning.'"
"You cannot go back," she said. "It
is forbidden. They would kill
you. Thus far have you come--there
is no returning."
"But I must return, I insisted. "My
people are there. I must return
and lead them in this direction."
She insisted, and I insisted;
but at last we compromised. I
was to escort her as far as the
country of the Kro-lu and then
I was to go back after my own
people and lead them north into
a land where the dangers were
fewer and the people less murderous.
She brought me all my belongings
that had been filched from me--rifle,
ammunition, knife, and thermos
bottle, and then hand in hand
we descended the cliff and set
off toward the north.
For three days we continued
upon our way, until we arrived
outside a village of thatched
huts just at dusk. So-ta said
that she would enter alone; I
must not be seen if I did not
intend to remain, as it was forbidden
that one should return and live
after having advanced this far.
So she left me. She was a dear
girl and a stanch and true comrade--more
like a man than a woman. In her
simple barbaric way she was both
refined and chaste. She had been
the wife of To-jo. Among the
Kro-lu she would find another
mate after the manner of the
strange Caspakian world; but
she told me very frankly that
whenever I returned, she would
leave her mate and come to me,
as she preferred me above all
others. I was becoming a ladies'
man after a lifetime of bashfulness!
At the outskirts of the village
I left her without even seeing
the sort of people who inhabited
it, and set off through the growing
darkness toward the south. On
the third day I made a detour
westward to avoid the country
of the Band-lu, as I did not
care to be detained by a meeting
with To-jo. On the sixth day
I came to the cliffs of the Sto-lu,
and my heart beat fast as I approached
them, for here was Lys. Soon
I would hold her tight in my
arms again; soon her warm lips
would merge with mine. I felt
sure that she was still safe
among the hatchet people, and
I was already picturing the joy
and the love-light in her eyes
when she should see me once more
as I emerged from the last clump
of trees and almost ran toward
the cliffs.
It was late
in the morning. The women must
have returned
from the pool; yet as I drew
near, I saw no sign of life whatever. "They
have remained longer," I thought;
but when I was quite close to
the base of the cliffs, I saw
that which dashed my hopes and
my happiness to earth. Strewn
along the ground were a score
of mute and horrible suggestions
of what had taken place during
my absence--bones picked clean
of flesh, the bones of manlike
creatures, the bones of many
of the tribe of Sto-lu; nor in
any cave was there sign of life.
Closely I examined the ghastly
remains fearful each instant
that I should find the dainty
skull that would shatter my happiness
for life; but though I searched
diligently, picking up every
one of the twenty-odd skulls,
I found none that was the skull
of a creature but slightly removed
from the ape. Hope, then, still
lived. For another three days
I searched north and south, east
and west for the hatchetmen of
Caspak; but never a trace of
them did I find. It was raining
most of the time now, and the
weather was as near cold as it
ever seems to get on Caprona.
At last I gave up the search
and set off toward Fort Dinosaur.
For a week--a week filled with
the terrors and dangers of a
primeval world--I pushed on in
the direction I thought was south.
The sun never shone; the rain
scarcely ever ceased falling.
The beasts I met with were fewer
in number but infinitely more
terrible in temper; yet I lived
on until there came to me the
realization that I was hopelessly
lost, that a year of sunshine
would not again give me my bearings;
and while I was cast down by
this terrifying knowledge, the
knowledge that I never again
could find Lys, I stumbled upon
another grave--the grave of William
James, with its little crude
headstone and its scrawled characters
recording that he had died upon
the 13th of September--killed
by a saber-tooth tiger.
I think that I almost gave
up then. Never in my life have
I felt more hopeless or helpless
or alone. I was lost. I could
not find my friends. I did not
even know that they still lived;
in fact, I could not bring myself
to believe that they did. I was
sure that Lys was dead. I wanted
myself to die, and yet I clung
to life--useless and hopeless
and harrowing a thing as it had
become. I clung to life because
some ancient, reptilian forbear
had clung to life and transmitted
to me through the ages the most
powerful motive that guided his
minute brain--the motive of self-preservation.
At last I came to the great
barrier-cliffs; and after three
days of mad effort--of maniacal
effort--I scaled them. I built
crude ladders; I wedged sticks
in narrow fissures; I chopped
toe-holds and finger-holds with
my long knife; but at last I
scaled them. Near the summit
I came upon a huge cavern. It
is the abode of some mighty winged
creature of the Triassic--or
rather it was. Now it is mine.
I slew the thing and took its
abode. I reached the summit and
looked out upon the broad gray
terrible Pacific of the far-southern
winter. It was cold up there.
It is cold here today; yet here
I sit watching, watching, watching
for the thing I know will never
come--for a sail.
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