Red-Eye was an atavism. He was
the great discordant element
in our horde. He was more primitive
than any of us. He did not belong
with us, yet we were still so
primitive ourselves that we were
incapable of a cooperative effort
strong enough to kill him or
cast him out. Rude as was our
social organization, he was,
nevertheless, too rude to live
in it. He tended always to destroy
the horde by his unsocial acts.
He was really a reversion to
an earlier type, and his place
was with the Tree People rather
than with us who were in the
process of becoming men.
He was a monster of cruelty,
which is saying a great deal
in that day. He beat his wives--not
that he ever had more than one
wife at a time, but that he was
married many times. It was impossible
for any woman to live with him,
and yet they did live with him,
out of compulsion. There was
no gainsaying him.
No man was strong enough to
stand against him.
Often do I have visions of
the quiet hour before the twilight.
From drinking-place and carrot
patch and berry swamp the Folk
are trooping into the open space
before the caves. They dare linger
no later than this, for the dreadful
darkness is approaching, in which
the world is given over to the
carnage of the hunting animals,
while the fore-runners of man
hide tremblingly in their holes.
There yet remain to us a few
minutes before we climb to our
caves. We are tired from the
play of the day, and the sounds
we make are subdued. Even the
cubs, still greedy for fun and
antics, play with restraint.
The wind from the sea has died
down, and the shadows are lengthening
with the last of the sun's descent.
And then, suddenly, from Red-Eye's
cave, breaks a wild screaming
and the sound of blows. He is
beating his wife.
At first an awed silence comes
upon us. But as the blows and
screams continue we break out
into an insane gibbering of helpless
rage. It is plain that the men
resent Red-Eye's actions, but
they are too afraid of him. The
blows cease, and a low groaning
dies away, while we chatter among
ourselves and the sad twilight
creeps upon us.
We, to whom most happenings
were jokes, never laughed during
Red-Eye's wife-beatings. We knew
too well the tragedy of them.
On more than one morning, at
the base of the cliff, did we
find the body of his latest wife.
He had tossed her there, after
she had died, from his cave-mouth.
He never buried his dead. The
task of carrying away the bodies,
that else would have polluted
our abiding-place, he left to
the horde. We usually flung them
into the river below the last
drinking-place.
Not alone did Red-Eye murder
his wives, but he also murdered
for his wives, in order to get
them. When he wanted a new wife
and selected the wife of another
man, he promptly killed that
man. Two of these murders I saw
myself. The whole horde knew,
but could do nothing. We had
not yet developed any government,
to speak of, inside the horde.
We had certain customs and visited
our wrath upon the unlucky ones
who violated those customs. Thus,
for example, the individual who
defiled a drinking-place would
be attacked by every onlooker,
while one who deliberately gave
a false alarm was the recipient
of much rough usage at our hands.
But Red-Eye walked rough-shod
over all our customs, and we
so feared him that we were incapable
of the collective action necessary
to punish him.
It was during the sixth winter
in our cave that Lop-Ear and
I discovered that we were really
growing up. From the first it
had been a squeeze to get in
through the entrance-crevice.
This had had its advantages,
however. It had prevented the
larger Folk from taking our cave
away from us. And it was a most
desirable cave, the highest on
the bluff, the safest, and in
winter the smallest and warmest.
To show the stage of the mental
development of the Folk, I may
state that it would have been
a simple thing for some of them
to have driven us out and enlarged
the crevice-opening. But they
never thought of it. Lop-Ear
and I did not think of it either
until our increasing size compelled
us to make an enlargement. This
occurred when summer was well
along and we were fat with better
forage. We worked at the crevice
in spells, when the fancy struck
us.
At first we dug the crumbling
rocks away with our fingers,
until our nails got sore, when
I accidentally stumbled upon
the idea of using a piece of
wood on the rock. This worked
well. Also it worked woe. One
morning early, we had scratched
out of the wall quite a heap
of fragments. I gave the heap
a shove over the lip of the entrance.
The next moment there came up
from below a howl of rage. There
was no need to look. We knew
the voice only too well. The
rubbish had descended upon Red-Eye.
We crouched down in the cave
in consternation. A minute later
he was at the entrance, peering
in at us with his inflamed eyes
and raging like a demon. But
he was too large. He could not
get in to us. Suddenly he went
away. This was suspicious. By
all we knew of Folk nature he
should have remained and had
out his rage. I crept to the
entrance and peeped down. I could
see him just beginning to mount
the bluff again. In one hand
he carried a long stick. Before
I could divine his plan, he was
back at the entrance and savagely
jabbing the stick in at us.
His thrusts were prodigious.
They could have disembowelled
us. We shrank back against the
side-walls, where we were almost
out of range. But by industrious
poking he got us now and again--cruel,
scraping jabs with the end of
the stick that raked off the
hide and hair. When we screamed
with the hurt, he roared his
satisfaction and jabbed the harder.
I began to grow angry. I had
a temper of my own in those days,
and pretty considerable courage,
too, albeit it was largely the
courage of the cornered rat.
I caught hold of the stick with
my hands, but such was his strength
that he jerked me into the crevice.
He reached for me with his long
arm, and his nails tore my flesh
as I leaped back from the clutch
and gained the comparative safety
of the side-wall.
He began poking again, and
caught me a painful blow on the
shoulder. Beyond shivering with
fright and yelling when he was
hit, Lop-Ear did nothing. I looked
for a stick with which to jab
back, but found only the end
of a branch, an inch through
and a foot long. I threw this
at Red-Eye. It did no damage,
though he howled with a sudden
increase of rage at my daring
to strike back. He began jabbing
furiously. I found a fragment
of rock and threw it at him,
striking him on the chest.
This emboldened me, and, besides,
I was now as angry as he, and
had lost all fear. I ripped fragment
of rock from the wall. The piece
must have weighed two or three
pounds. With my strength I slammed
it full into Red-Eye's face.
It nearly finished him. He staggered
backward, dropping his stick,
and almost fell off the cliff.
He was a ferocious sight. His
face was covered with blood,
and he was snarling and gnashing
his fangs like a wild boar. He
wiped the blood from his eyes,
caught sight of me, and roared
with fury. His stick was gone,
so he began ripping out chunks
of crumbling rock and throwing
them in at me. This supplied
me with ammunition. I gave him
as good as he sent, and better;
for he presented a good target,
while he caught only glimpses
of me as I snuggled against the
side-wall.
Suddenly he disappeared again.
From the lip of the cave I saw
him descending. All the horde
had gathered outside and in awed
silence was looking on. As he
descended, the more timid ones
scurried for their caves. I could
see old Marrow-Bone tottering
along as fast as he could. Red-Eye
sprang out from the wall and
finished the last twenty feet
through the air. He landed alongside
a mother who was just beginning
the ascent. She screamed with
fear, and the two-year-old child
that was clinging to her released
its grip and rolled at Red-Eye's
feet. Both he and the mother
reached for it, and he got it.
The next moment the frail little
body had whirled through the
air and shattered against the
wall. The mother ran to it, caught
it up in her arms, and crouched
over it crying.
Red-Eye started over to pick
up the stick. Old Marrow-Bone
had tottered into his way. Red-Eye's
great hand shot out and clutched
the old man by the back of the
neck. I looked to see his neck
broken. His body went limp as
he surrendered himself to his
fate. Red-Eye hesitated a moment,
and Marrow-Bone, shivering terribly,
bowed his head and covered his
face with his crossed arms. Then
Red-Eye slammed him face-downward
to the ground. Old Marrow-Bone
did not struggle. He lay there
crying with the fear of death.
I saw the Hairless One, out in
the open space, beating his chest
and bristling, but afraid to
come forward. And then, in obedience
to some whim of his erratic spirit,
Red-Eye let the old man alone
and passed on and recovered the
stick.
He returned to the wall and
began to climb up. Lop-Ear, who
was shivering and peeping alongside
of me, scrambled back into the
cave. It was plain that Red-Eye
was bent upon murder. I was desperate
and angry and fairly cool. Running
back and forth along the neighboring
ledges, I gathered a heap of
rocks at the cave-entrance. Red-Eye
was now several yards beneath
me, concealed for the moment
by an out-jut of the cliff. As
he climbed, his head came into
view, and I banged a rock down.
It missed, striking the wall
and shattering; but the flying
dust and grit filled his eyes
and he drew back out of view.
A chuckling and chattering
arose from the horde, that played
the part of audience. At last
there was one of the Folk who
dared to face Red-Eye. As their
approval and acclamation arose
on the air, Red-Eye snarled down
at them, and on the instant they
were subdued to silence. Encouraged
by this evidence of his power,
he thrust his head into view,
and by scowling and snarling
and gnashing his fangs tried
to intimidate me. He scowled
horribly, contracting the scalp
strongly over the brows and bringing
the hair down from the top of
the head until each hair stood
apart and pointed straight forward.
The sight chilled me, but I
mastered my fear, and, with a
stone poised in my hand, threatened
him back. He still tried to advance.
I drove the stone down at him
and made a sheer miss. The next
shot was a success. The stone
struck him on the neck. He slipped
back out of sight, but as he
disappeared I could see him clutching
for a grip on the wall with one
hand, and with the other clutching
at his throat. The stick fell
clattering to the ground.
I could not see him any more,
though I could hear him choking
and strangling and coughing.
The audience kept a death-like
silence. I crouched on the lip
of the entrance and waited. The
strangling and coughing died
down, and I could hear him now
and again clearing his throat.
A little later he began to climb
down. He went very quietly, pausing
every moment or so to stretch
his neck or to feel it with his
hand.
At the sight of him descending,
the whole horde, with wild screams
and yells, stampeded for the
woods. Old Marrow-Bone, hobbling
and tottering, followed behind.
Red-Eye took no notice of the
flight. When he reached the ground
he skirted the base of the bluff
and climbed up and into his own
cave. He did not look around
once.
I stared at Lop-Ear, and he
stared back. We understood each
other. Immediately, and with
great caution and quietness,
we began climbing up the cliff.
When we reached the top we looked
back. The abiding-place was deserted,
Red-Eye remained in his cave,
and the horde had disappeared
in the depths of the forest.
We turned and ran. We dashed
across the open spaces and down
the slopes unmindful of possible
snakes in the grass, until we
reached the woods. Up into the
trees we went, and on and on,
swinging our arboreal flight
until we had put miles between
us and the caves. And then, and
not till then, in the security
of a great fork, we paused, looked
at each other, and began to laugh.
We held on to each other, arms
and legs, our eyes streaming
tears, our ,sides aching, and
laughed and laughed and laughed.
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