Once a day I descend to the
base of the cliff and hunt, and
fill my stomach with water from
a clear cold spring. I have three
gourds which I fill with water
and take back to my cave against
the long nights. I have fashioned
a spear and a bow and arrow,
that I may conserve my ammunition,
which is running low. My clothes
are worn to shreds. Tomorrow
I shall discard them for leopard-skins
which I have tanned and sewn
into a garment strong and warm.
It is cold up here. I have a
fire burning and I sit bent over
it while I write; but I am safe
here. No other living creature
ventures to the chill summit
of the barrier cliffs. I am safe,
and I am alone with my sorrows
and my remembered joys--but without
hope. It is said that hope springs
eternal in the human breast;
but there
is none in mine.
I am about done. Presently
I shall fold these pages and
push them into my thermos bottle.
I shall cork it and screw the
cap tight, and then I shall hurl
it as far out into the sea as
my strength will permit. The
wind is off-shore; the tide is
running out; perhaps it will
be carried into one of those
numerous ocean-currents which
sweep perpetually from pole to
pole and from continent to continent,
to be deposited at last upon
some inhabited shore. If fate
is kind and this does happen,
then, for God's sake, come and
get me!
It was a week ago that I wrote
the preceding paragraph, which
I thought would end the written
record of my life upon Caprona.
I had paused to put a new point
on my quill and stir the crude
ink (which I made by crushing
a black variety of berry and
mixing it with water) before
attaching my signature, when
faintly from the valley far below
came an unmistakable sound which
brought me to my feet, trembling
with excitement, to peer eagerly
downward from my dizzy ledge.
How full of meaning that sound
was to me you may guess when
I tell you that it was the report
of a firearm! For a moment my
gaze traversed the landscape
beneath until it was caught and
held by four figures near the
base of the cliff--a human figure
held at bay by three hyaenodons,
those ferocious and blood-thirsty
wild dogs of the Eocene. A fourth
beast lay dead or dying near
by.
I couldn't be sure, looking
down from above as I was; but
yet I trembled like a leaf in
the intuitive belief that it
was Lys, and my judgment served
to confirm my wild desire, for
whoever it was carried only a
pistol, and thus had Lys been
armed. The first wave of sudden
joy which surged through me was
short-lived in the face of the
swift-following conviction that
the one who fought below was
already doomed. Luck and only
luck it must have been which
had permitted that first shot
to lay low one of the savage
creatures, for even such a heavy
weapon as my pistol is entirely
inadequate against even the lesser
carnivora of Caspak. In a moment
the three would charge! a futile
shot would but tend more greatly
to enrage the one it chanced
to hit; and then the three would
drag down the little human figure
and tear it to pieces.
And maybe it was Lys! My heart
stood still at the thought, but
mind and muscle responded to
the quick decision I was forced
to make. There was but a single
hope--a single chance--and I
took it. I raised my rifle to
my shoulder and took careful
aim. It was a long shot, a dangerous
shot, for unless one is accustomed
to it, shooting from a considerable
altitude is most deceptive work.
There is, though, something about
marksmanship which is quite beyond
all scientific laws.
Upon no other theory can I
explain my marksmanship of that
moment. Three times my rifle
spoke--three quick, short syllables
of death. I did not take conscious
aim; and yet at each report a
beast crumpled in its tracks!
From my ledge
to the base of the cliff is
a matter of several
thousand feet of dangerous climbing;
yet I venture to say that the
first ape from whose loins my
line has descended never could
have equaled the speed with which
I literally dropped down the
face of that rugged escarpment.
The last two hundred feet is
over a steep incline of loose
rubble to the valley bottom,
and I had just reached the top
of this when there arose to my
ears an agonized cry--"Bowen!
Bowen! Quick, my love, quick!"
I had been too much occupied
with the dangers of the descent
to glance down toward the valley;
but that cry which told me that
it was indeed Lys, and that she
was again in danger, brought
my eyes quickly upon her in time
to see a hairy, burly brute seize
her and start off at a run toward
the near-by wood. From rock to
rock, chamoislike, I leaped downward
toward the valley, in pursuit
of Lys and her hideous abductor.
He was heavier
than I by many pounds, and
so weighted by the
burden he carried that I easily
overtook him; and at last he
turned, snarling, to face me.
It was Kho of the tribe of Tsa,
the hatchet-men. He recognized
me, and with a low growl he threw
Lys aside and came for me. "The
she is mine," he cried. "I kill!
I kill!"
I had had to discard my rifle
before I commenced the rapid
descent of the cliff, so that
now I was armed only with a hunting
knife, and this I whipped from
its scabbard as Kho leaped toward
me. He was a mighty beast, mightily
muscled, and the urge that has
made males fight since the dawn
of life on earth filled him with
the blood-lust and the thirst
to slay; but not one whit less
did it fill me with the same
primal passions. Two abysmal
beasts sprang at each other's
throats that day beneath the
shadow of earth's oldest cliffs--the
man of now and the man-thing
of the earliest, forgotten then,
imbued by the same deathless
passion that has come down unchanged
through all the epochs, periods
and eras of time from the beginning,
and which shall continue to the
incalculable end--woman, the
imperishable Alpha and Omega
of life.
Kho closed
and sought my jugular with
his teeth. He seemed to
forget the hatchet dangling by
its aurochs-hide thong at his
hip, as I forgot, for the moment,
the dagger in my hand. And I
doubt not but that Kho would
easily have bested me in an encounter
of that sort had not Lys' voice
awakened within my momentarily
reverted brain the skill and
cunning of reasoning man. "Bowen!" she
cried. "Your knife! Your knife!" It
was enough. It recalled me from
the forgotten eon to which my
brain had flown and left me once
again a modern man battling with
a clumsy, unskilled brute. No
longer did my jaws snap at the
hairy throat before me; but instead
my knife sought and found a space
between two ribs over the savage
heart. Kho voiced a single horrid
scream, stiffened spasmodically
and sank to the earth. And Lys
threw herself into my arms. All
the fears and sorrows of the
past were wiped away, and once
again I was the happiest of men.
With some misgivings I shortly
afterward cast my eyes upward
toward the precarious ledge which
ran before my cave, for it seemed
to me quite beyond all reason
to expect a dainty modern belle
to essay the perils of that frightful
climb. I asked her if she thought
she could brave the ascent, and
she laughed gayly in my face.
"Watch!" she
cried, and ran eagerly toward
the base of the
cliff. Like a squirrel she clambered
swiftly aloft, so that I was
forced to exert myself to keep
pace with her. At first she frightened
me; but presently I was aware
that she was quite as safe here
as was I. When we finally came
to my ledge and I again held
her in my arms, she recalled
to my mind that for several weeks
she had been living the life
of a cave-girl with the tribe
of hatchet-men. They had been
driven from their former caves
by another tribe which had slain
many and carried off quite half
the females, and the new cliffs
to which they had flown had proven
far higher and more precipitous,
so that she had become, through
necessity, a most practiced climber.
She told me of Kho's desire
for her, since all his females
had been stolen and of how her
life had been a constant nightmare
of terror as she sought by night
and by day to elude the great
brute. For a time Nobs had been
all the protection she required;
but one day he disappeared--nor
has she seen him since. She believes
that he was deliberately made
away with; and so do I, for we
both are sure that he never would
have deserted her. With her means
of protection gone, Lys was now
at the mercy of the hatchet-man;
nor was it many hours before
he had caught her at the base
of the cliff and seized her;
but as he bore her triumphantly
aloft toward his cave, she had
managed to break loose and escape
him.
"For three days he has pursued
me," she said, "through this
horrible world. How I have passed
through in safety I cannot guess,
nor how I have always managed
to outdistance him; yet I have
done it, until just as you discovered
me. Fate was kind to us, Bowen."
I nodded my head in assent
and crushed her to me. And then
we talked and planned as I cooked
antelope-steaks over my fire,
and we came to the conclusion
that there was no hope of rescue,
that she and I were doomed to
live and die upon Caprona. Well,
it might be worse! I would rather
live here always with Lys than
to live elsewhere without her;
and she, dear girl, says the
same of me; but I am afraid of
this life for her. It is a hard,
fierce, dangerous life, and I
shall pray always that we shall
be rescued from it--for her sake.
That night the clouds broke,
and the moon shone down upon
our little ledge; and there,
hand in hand, we turned our faces
toward heaven and plighted our
troth beneath the eyes of God.
No human agency could have married
us more sacredly than we are
wed. We are man and wife, and
we are content. If God wills
it, we shall live out our lives
here. If He wills otherwise,
then this manuscript which I
shall now consign to the inscrutable
forces of the sea shall fall
into friendly hands. However,
we are each without hope. And
so we say good-bye in this, our
last message to the world beyond
the barrier cliffs.
(Signed) Bowen J. Tyler, Jr.
Lys La R. Tyler.
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