I found her down in the old
neighborhood near the blueberry
swamp, where my mother lived
and where Lop-Ear and I had built
our first tree-shelter. It was
unexpected. As I came under the
tree I heard the familiar soft
sound and looked up. There she
was, the Swift One, sitting on
a limb and swinging her legs
back and forth as she looked
at me.
I stood still for some time.
The sight of her had made me
very happy. And then an unrest
and a pain began to creep in
on this happiness. I started
to climb the tree after her,
and she retreated slowly out
the limb. Just as I reached for
her, she sprang through the air
and landed in the branches of
the next tree. From amid the
rustling leaves she peeped out
at me and made soft sounds. I
leaped straight for her, and
after an exciting chase the situation
was duplicated, for there she
was, making soft sounds and peeping
out from the leaves of a third
tree.
It was borne in upon me that
somehow it was different now
from the old days before Lop-Ear
and I had gone on our adventure-journey.
I wanted her, and I knew that
I wanted her. And she knew it,
too. That was why she would not
let me come near her. I forgot
that she was truly the Swift
One, and that in the art of climbing
she had been my teacher. I pursued
her from tree to tree, and ever
she eluded me, peeping back at
me with kindly eyes, making soft
sounds, and dancing and leaping
and teetering before me just
out of reach. The more she eluded
me, the more I wanted to catch
her, and the lengthening shadows
of the afternoon bore witness
to the futility of my effort.
As I pursued her, or sometimes
rested in an adjoining tree and
watched her, I noticed the change
in her. She was larger, heavier,
more grown-up. Her lines were
rounder, her muscles fuller,
and there was about her that
indefinite something of maturity
that was new to her and that
incited me on. Three years she
had been gone--three years at
the very least, and the change
in her was marked. I say three
years; it is as near as I can
measure the time. A fourth year
may have elapsed, which I have
confused with the happenings
of the other three years. The
more I think of it, the more
confident I am that it must be
four years that she was away.
Where she went, why she went,
and what happened to her during
that time, I do not know. There
was no way for her to tell me,
any more than there was a way
for Lop-Ear and me to tell the
Folk what we had seen when we
were away. Like us, the chance
is she had gone off on an adventure-journey,
and by herself. On the other
hand, it is possible that Red-Eye
may have been the cause of her
going. It is quite certain that
he must have come upon her from
time to time, wandering in the
woods; and if he had pursued
her there is no question but
that it would have been sufficient
to drive her away. From subsequent
events, I am led to believe that
she must have travelled far to
the south, across a range of
mountains and down to the banks
of a strange river, away from
any of her kind. Many Tree People
lived down there, and I think
it must have been they who finally
drove her back to the horde and
to me. My reasons for this I
shall explain later.
The shadows grew longer, and
I pursued more ardently than
ever, and still I could not catch
her. She made believe that she
was trying desperately to escape
me, and all the time she managed
to keep just beyond reach. I
forgot everything--time, the
oncoming of night, and my meat-eating
enemies. I was insane with love
of her, and with--anger, too,
because she would not let me
come up with her. It was strange
how this anger against her seemed
to be part of my desire for her.
As I have said, I forgot everything.
In racing across an open space
I ran full tilt upon a colony
of snakes. They did not deter
me. I was mad. They struck at
me, but I ducked and dodged and
ran on. Then there was a python
that ordinarily would have sent
me screeching to a tree-top.
He did run me into a tree; but
the Swift One was going out of
sight, and I sprang back to the
ground and went on. It was a
close shave. Then there was my
old enemy, the hyena. From my
conduct he was sure something
was going to happen, and he followed
me for an hour. Once we exasperated
a band of wild pigs, and they
took after us. The Swift One
dared a wide leap between trees
that was too much for me. I had
to take to the ground. There
were the pigs. I didn't care.
I struck the earth within a yard
of the nearest one. They flanked
me as I ran, and chased me into
two different trees out of the
line of my pursuit of the Swift
One. I ventured the ground again,
doubled back, and crossed a wide
open space, with the whole band
grunting, bristling, and tusk-gnashing
at my heels.
If I had tripped or stumbled
in that open space, there would
have been no chance for me. But
I didn't. And I didn't care whether
I did or not. I was in such mood
that I would have faced old Saber-Tooth
himself, or a score of arrow-shooting
Fire People. Such was the madness
of love...with me. With the Swift
One it was different. She was
very wise. She did not take any
real risks, and I remember, on
looking back across the centuries
to that wild love-chase, that
when the pigs delayed me she
did not run away very fast, but
waited, rather, for me to take
up the pursuit again. Also, she
directed her retreat before me,
going always in the direction
she wanted to go.
At last came the dark. She
led me around the mossy shoulder
of a canyon wall that out-jutted
among the trees. After that we
penetrated a dense mass of underbrush
that scraped and ripped me in
passing. But she never ruffled
a hair. She knew the way. In
the midst of the thicket was
a large oak. I was very close
to her when she climbed it; and
in the forks, in the nest-shelter
I had sought so long and vainly,
I caught her.
The hyena had taken our trail
again, and he now sat down on
the ground and made hungry noises.
But we did not mind, and we laughed
at him when he snarled and went
away through the thicket. It
was the spring-time, and the
night noises were many and varied.
As was the custom at that time
of the year, there was much fighting
among the animals. From the nest
we could hear the squealing and
neighing of wild horses, the
trumpeting of elephants, and
the roaring of lions. But the
moon came out, and the air was
warm, and we laughed and were
unafraid.
I remember, next morning, that
we came upon two ruffled cock-birds
that fought so ardently that
I went right up to them and caught
them by their necks. Thus did
the Swift One and I get our wedding
breakfast. They were delicious.
It was easy to catch birds in
the spring of the year. There
was one night that year when
two elk fought in the moonlight,
while the Swift One and I watched
from the trees; and we saw a
lion and lioness crawl up to
them unheeded, and kill them
as they fought.
There is no telling how long
we might have lived in the Swift
One's tree-shelter. But one day,
while we were away, the tree
was struck by lightning. Great
limbs were riven, and the nest
was demolished. I started to
rebuild, but the Swift One would
have nothing to do with it. As
I was to learn, she was greatly
afraid of lightning, and I could
not persuade her back into the
tree. So it came about, our honeymoon
over, that we went to the caves
to live. As Lop-Ear had evicted
me from the cave when he got
married, I now evicted him; and
the Swift One and I settled down
in it, while he slept at night
in the connecting passage of
the double cave.
And with our coming to live
with the horde came trouble.
Red-Eye had had I don't know
how many wives since the Singing
One. She had gone the way of
the rest. At present he had a
little, soft, spiritless thing
that whimpered and wept all the
time, whether he beat her or
not; and her passing was a question
of very little time. Before she
passed, even, Red-Eye set his
eyes on the Swift One; and when
she passed, the persecution of
the Swift One began.
Well for her that she was the
Swift One, that she had that
amazing aptitude for swift flight
through the trees. She needed
all her wisdom and daring in
order to keep out of the clutches
of Red-Eye. I could not help
her. He was so powerful a monster
that he could have torn me limb
from limb. As it was, to my death
I carried an injured shoulder
that ached and went lame in rainy
weather and that was a mark of
is handiwork.
The Swift One was sick at the
time I received this injury.
It must have been a touch of
the malaria from which we sometimes
suffered; but whatever it was,
it made her dull and heavy. She
did not have the accustomed spring
to her muscles, and was indeed
in poor shape for flight when
Red-Eye cornered her near the
lair of the wild dogs, several
miles south from the caves. Usually,
she would have circled around
him, beaten him in the straight-away,
and gained the protection of
our small-mouthed cave. But she
could not circle him. She was
too dull and slow. Each time
he headed her off, until she
gave over the attempt and devoted
her energies wholly to keeping
out of his clutches.
Had she not been sick it would
have been child's play for her
to elude him; but as it was,
it required all her caution and
cunning. It was to her advantage
that she could travel on thinner
branches than he, and make wider
leaps. Also, she was an unerring
judge of distance, and she had
an instinct for knowing the strength
of twigs, branches, and rotten
limbs.
It was an interminable chase.
Round and round and back and
forth for long stretches through
the forest they dashed. There
was great excitement among the
other Folk. They set up a wild
chattering, that was loudest
when Red-Eye was at a distance,
and that hushed when the chase
led him near. They were impotent
onlookers. The females screeched
and gibbered, and the males beat
their chests in helpless rage.
Big Face was especially angry,
and though he hushed his racket
when Red-Eye drew near, he did
not hush it to the extent the
others did.
As for me, I played no brave
part. I know I was anything but
a hero. Besides, of what use
would it have been for me to
encounter Red-Eye? He was the
mighty monster, the abysmal brute,
and there was no hope for me
in a conflict of strength. He
would have killed me, and the
situation would have remained
unchanged. He would have caught
the Swift One before she could
have gained the cave. As it was,
I could only look on in helpless
fury, and dodge out of the way
and cease my raging when he came
too near.
The hours passed. It was late
afternoon. And still the chase
went on. Red-Eye was bent upon
exhausting the Swift One. He
deliberately ran her down. After
a long time she began to tire
and could no longer maintain
her headlong flight. Then it
was that she began going far
out on the thinnest branches,
where he could not follow. Thus
she might have got a breathing
spell, but Red-Eye was fiendish.
Unable to follow her, he dislodged
her by shaking her off. With
all his strength and weight,
he would shake the branch back
and forth until he snapped her
off as one would snap a fly from
a whip-lash. The first time,
she saved herself by falling
into branches lower down. Another
time, though they did not save
her from the ground, they broke
her fall. Still another time,
so fiercely did he snap her from
the branch, she was flung clear
across a gap into another tree.
It was remarkable, the way she
gripped and saved herself. Only
when driven to it did she seek
the temporary safety of the thin
branches. But she was so tired
that she could not otherwise
avoid him, and time after time
she was compelled to take to
the thin branches.
Still the chase went on, and
still the Folk screeched, beat
their chests, and gnashed their
teeth. Then came the end. It
was almost twilight. Trembling,
panting, struggling for breath,
the Swift One clung pitiably
to a high thin branch. It was
thirty feet to the ground, and
nothing intervened. Red-Eye swung
back and forth on the branch
farther down. It became a pendulum,
swinging wider and wider with
every lunge of his weight. Then
he reversed suddenly, just before
the downward swing was completed.
Her grips were torn loose, and,
screaming, she was hurled toward
the ground.
But she righted herself in
mid-air and descended feet first.
Ordinarily, from such a height,
the spring in her legs would
have eased the shock of impact
with the ground. But she was
exhausted. She could not exercise
this spring. Her legs gave under
her, having only partly met the
shock, and she crashed on over
on her side. This, as it turned
out, did not injure her, but
it did knock the breath from
her lungs. She lay helpless and
struggling for air.
Red-Eye rushed upon her and
seized her. With his gnarly fingers
twisted into the hair of her
head, he stood up and roared
in triumph and defiance at the
awed Folk that watched from the
trees. Then it was that I went
mad. Caution was thrown to the
winds; forgotten was the will
to live of my flesh. Even as
Red-Eye roared, from behind I
dashed upon him. So unexpected
was my charge that I knocked
him off his feet. I twined my
arms and legs around him and
strove to hold him down. This
would have been impossible to
accomplish had he not held tightly
with one hand to the Swift One's
hair.
Encouraged by my conduct, Big-Face
became a sudden ally. He charged
in, sank his teeth in Red-Eye's
arm, and ripped and tore at his
face. This was the time for the
rest of the Folk to have joined
in. It was the chance to do for
Red-Eye for all time. But they
remained afraid in the trees.
It was inevitable that Red-Eye
should win in the struggle against
the two of us. The reason he
did not finish us off immediately
was that the Swift One clogged
his movements. She had regained
her breath and was beginning
to resist. He would not release
his clutch on her hair, and this
handicapped him. He got a grip
on my arm. It was the beginning
of the end for me. He began to
draw me toward him into a position
where he could sink his teeth
into my throat. His mouth was
open, and he was grinning. And
yet, though he had just begun
to exert his strength, in that
moment he wrenched my shoulder
so that I suffered from it for
the remainder of my life.
And in that moment something
happened. There was no warning.
A great body smashed down upon
the four of us locked together.
We were driven violently apart
and rolled over and over, and
in the suddenness of surprise
we released our holds on one
another. At the moment of the
shock, Big-Face screamed terribly.
I did not know what had happened,
though I smelled tiger and caught
a glimpse of striped fur as I
sprang for a tree.
It was old Saber-Tooth. Aroused
in his lair by the noise we had
made, he had crept upon us unnoticed.
The Swift One gained the next
tree to mine, and I immediately
joined her. I put my arms around
her and held her close to me
while she whimpered and cried
softly. From the ground came
a snarling, and crunching of
bones. It was Saber-Tooth making
his supper off of what had been
Big-Face. From beyond, with inflamed
rims and eyes, Red-Eye peered
down. Here was a monster mightier
than he. The Swift One and I
turned and went away quietly
through the trees toward the
cave, while the Folk gathered
overhead and showered down abuse
and twigs and branches upon their
ancient enemy. He lashed his
tail and snarled, but went on
eating.
And in such fashion were we
saved. It was a mere accident--the
sheerest accident. Else would
I have died, there in Red-Eye's
clutch, and there would have
been no bridging of time to the
tune of a thousand centuries
down to a progeny that reads
newspapers and rides on electric
cars--ay, and that writes narratives
of bygone happenings even as
this is written.
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