My vision of the scene came
abruptly, as I emerged from the
forest. I found myself on the
edge of a large clear space.
On one side of this space rose
up high bluffs. On the other
side was the river. The earth
bank ran steeply down to the
water, but here and there, in
several places, where at some
time slides of earth had occurred,
there were run-ways. These were
the drinking-places of the Folk
that lived in the caves.
And this was the main abiding-place
of the Folk that I had chanced
upon. This was, I may say, by
stretching the word, the village.
My mother and the Chatterer and
I, and a few other simple bodies,
were what might be termed suburban
residents. We were part of the
horde, though we lived a distance
away from it. It was only a short
distance, though it had taken
me, what of my wandering, all
of a week to arrive. Had I come
directly, I could have covered
the trip in an hour.
But to return. From the edge
of the forest I saw the caves
in the bluff, the open space,
and the run-ways to the drinking-places.
And in the open space I saw many
of the Folk. I had been straying,
alone and a child, for a week.
During that time I had seen not
one of my kind. I had lived in
terror and desolation. And now,
at the sight of my kind, I was
overcome with gladness, and I
ran wildly toward them.
Then it was that a strange
thing happened. Some one of the
Folk saw me and uttered a warning
cry. On the instant, crying out
with fear and panic, the Folk
fled away. Leaping and scrambling
over the rocks, they plunged
into the mouths of the caves
and disappeared...all but one,
a little baby, that had been
dropped in the excitement close
to the base of the bluff. He
was wailing dolefully. His mother
dashed out; he sprang to meet
her and held on tightly as she
scrambled back into the cave.
I was all alone. The populous
open space had of a sudden become
deserted. I sat down forlornly
and whimpered. I could not understand.
Why had the Folk run away from
me? In later time, when I came
to know their ways, I was to
learn. When they saw me dashing
out of the forest at top speed
they concluded that I was being
pursued by some hunting animal.
By my unceremonious approach
I had stampeded them.
As I sat and watched the cave-mouths
I became aware that the Folk
were watching me. Soon they were
thrusting their heads out. A
little later they were calling
back and forth to one another.
In the hurry and confusion it
had happened that all had not
gained their own caves. Some
of the young ones had sought
refuge in other caves. The mothers
did not call for them by name,
because that was an invention
we had not yet made. All were
nameless. The mothers uttered
querulous, anxious cries, which
were recognized by the young
ones. Thus, had my mother been
there calling to me, I should
have recognized her voice amongst
the voices of a thousand mothers,
and in the same way would she
have recognized mine amongst
a thousand.
This calling back and forth
continued for some time, but
they were too cautious to come
out of their caves and descend
to the ground. Finally one did
come. He was destined to play
a large part in my life, and
for that matter he already played
a large part in the lives of
all the members of the horde.
He it was whom I shall call Red-Eye
in the pages of this history--so
called because of his inflamed
eyes, the lids being always red,
and, by the peculiar effect they
produced, seeming to advertise
the terrible savagery of him.
The color of his soul was red.
He was a monster in all ways.
Physically he was a giant. He
must have weighed one hundred
and seventy pounds. He was the
largest one of our kind I ever
saw. Nor did I ever see one of
the Fire People so large as he,
nor one of the Tree People. Sometimes,
when in the newspapers I happen
upon descriptions of our modern
bruisers and prizefighters, I
wonder what chance the best of
them would have had against him.
I am afraid not much of a chance.
With one grip of his iron fingers
and a pull, he could have plucked
a muscle, say a biceps, by the
roots, clear out of their bodies.
A back-handed, loose blow of
his fist could have smashed their
skulls like egg-shells. With
a sweep of his wicked feet (or
hind-hands) he could have disembowelled
them. A twist could have broken
their necks, and I know that
with a single crunch of his jaws
he could have pierced, at the
same moment, the great vein of
the throat in front and the spinal
marrow at the back.
He could spring twenty feet
horizontally from a sitting position.
He was abominably hairy. It was
a matter of pride with us to
be not very hairy. But he was
covered with hair all over, on
the inside of the arms as well
as the outside, and even the
ears themselves. The only places
on him where the hair did not
grow were the soles of his hands
and feet and beneath his eyes.
He was frightfully ugly, his
ferocious grinning mouth and
huge down-hanging under-lip being
but in harmony with his terrible
eyes.
This was Red-Eye. And right
gingerly he crept out or his
cave and descended to the ground.
Ignoring me, he proceeded to
reconnoitre. He bent forward
from the hips as he walked; and
so far forward did he bend, and
so long were his arms, that with
every step he touched the knuckles
of his hands to the ground on
either side of him. He was awkward
in the semi-erect position of
walking that he assumed, and
he really touched his knuckles
to the ground in order to balance
himself. But oh, I tell you he
could run on all-fours! Now this
was something at which we were
particularly awkward. Furthermore,
it was a rare individual among
us who balanced himself with
his knuckles when walking. Such
an individual was an atavism,
and Red-Eye was an even greater
atavism.
That is what he was--an atavism.
We were in the process of changing
our tree-life to life on the
ground. For many generations
we had been going through this
change, and our bodies and carriage
had likewise changed. But Red-Eye
had reverted to the more primitive
tree-dwelling type. Perforce,
because he was born in our horde
he stayed with us; but in actuality
he was an atavism and his place
was elsewhere.
Very circumspect and very alert,
he moved here and there about
the open space, peering through
the vistas among the trees and
trying to catch a glimpse of
the hunting animal that all suspected
had pursued me. And while he
did this, taking no notice of
me, the Folk crowded at the cave-mouths
and watched.
At last he evidently decided
that there was no danger lurking
about. He was returning from
the head of the run-way, from
where he had taken a peep down
at the drinking-place. His course
brought him near, but still he
did not notice me. He proceeded
casually on his way until abreast
of me, and then, without warning
and with incredible swiftness,
he smote me a buffet on the head.
I was knocked backward fully
a dozen feet before I fetched
up against the ground, and I
remember, half-stunned, even
as the blow was struck, hearing
the wild uproar of clucking and
shrieking laughter that arose
from the caves. It was a great
joke--at least in that day; and
right heartily the Folk appreciated
it.
Thus was I received into the
horde. Red-Eye paid no further
attention to me, and I was at
liberty to whimper and sob to
my heart's content. Several of
the women gathered curiously
about me, and I recognized them.
I had encountered them the preceding
year when my mother had taken
me to the hazelnut canyons.
But they quickly left me alone,
being replaced by a dozen curious
and teasing youngsters. They
formed a circle around me, pointing
their fingers, making faces,
and poking and pinching me. I
was frightened, and for a time
I endured them, then anger got
the best of me and I sprang tooth
and nail upon the most audacious
one of them--none other than
Lop-Ear himself. I have so named
him because he could prick up
only one of his ears. The other
ear always hung limp and without
movement. Some accident had injured
the muscles and deprived him
of the use of it.
He closed with me, and we went
at it for all the world like
a couple of small boys fighting.
We scratched and bit, pulled
hair, clinched, and threw each
other down. I remember I succeeded
in getting on him what in my
college days I learned was called
a half-Nelson. This hold gave
me the decided advantage. But
I did not enjoy it long. He twisted
up one leg, and with the foot
(or hind-hand) made so savage
an onslaught upon my abdomen
as to threaten to disembowel
me. I had to release him in order
to save myself, and then we went
at it again.
Lop-Ear was a year older than
I, but I was several times angrier
than he, and in the end he took
to his heels. I chased him across
the open and down a run-way to
the river. But he was better
acquainted with the locality
and ran along the edge of the
water and up another run-way.
He cut diagonally across the
open space and dashed into a
wide-mouthed cave.
Before I knew it, I had plunged
after him into the darkness.
The next moment I was badly frightened.
I had never been in a cave before.
I began to whimper and cry out.
Lop-Ear chattered mockingly at
me, and, springing upon me unseen,
tumbled me over. He did not risk
a second encounter, however,
and took himself off. I was between
him and the entrance, and he
did not pass me; yet he seemed
to have gone away. I listened,
but could get no clew as to where
he was. This puzzled me, and
when I regained the outside I
sat down to watch.
He never came out of the entrance,
of that I was certain; yet at
the end of several minutes he
chuckled at my elbow. Again I
ran after him, and again he ran
into the cave; but this time
I stopped at the mouth. I dropped
back a short distance and watched.
He did not come out, yet, as
before, he chuckled at my elbow
and was chased by me a third
time into the cave.
This performance was repeated
several times. Then I followed
him into the cave, where I searched
vainly for him. I was curious.
I could not understand how he
eluded me. Always he went into
the cave, never did he come out
of it, yet always did he arrive
there at my elbow and mock me.
Thus did our fight transform
itself into a game of hide and
seek.
All afternoon, with occasional
intervals, we kept it up, and
a playful, friendly spirit arose
between us. In the end, he did
not run away from me, and we
sat together with our arms around
each other. A little later he
disclosed the mystery of the
wide-mouthed cave. Holding me
by the hand he led me inside.
It connected by a narrow crevice
with another cave, and it was
through this that we regained
the open air.
We were now good friends. When
the other young ones gathered
around to tease, he joined with
me in attacking them; and so
viciously did we behave that
before long I was let alone.
Lop-Ear made me acquainted with
the village. There was little
that he could tell me of conditions
and customs--he had not the necessary
vocabulary; but by observing
his actions I learned much, and
also he showed me places and
things.
He took me up the open space,
between the caves and the river,
and into the forest beyond, where,
in a grassy place among the trees,
we made a meal of stringy-rooted
carrots. After that we had a
good drink at the river and started
up the run-way to the caves.
It was in the run-way that
we came upon Red-Eye again. The
first I knew, Lop-Ear had shrunk
away to one side and was crouching
low against the bank. Naturally
and involuntarily, I imitated
him. Then it was that I looked
to see the cause of his fear.
It was Red-Eye, swaggering down
the centre of the run-way and
scowling fiercely with his inflamed
eyes. I noticed that all the
youngsters shrank away from him
as we had done, while the grown-ups
regarded him with wary eyes when
he drew near, and stepped aside
to give him the centre of the
path.
As twilight came on, the open
space was deserted. The Folk
were seeking the safety of the
caves. Lop-Ear led the way to
bed. High up the bluff we climbed,
higher than all the other caves,
to a tiny crevice that could
not be seen from the ground.
Into this Lop-Ear squeezed. I
followed with difficulty, so
narrow was the entrance, and
found myself in a small rock-chamber.
It was very low--not more than
a couple of feet in height, and
possibly three feet by four in
width and length. Here, cuddled
together in each other's arms,
we slept out the night.
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