While the more courageous of
the youngsters played in and
out of the large-mouthed caves,
I early learned that such caves
were unoccupied. No one slept
in them at night. Only the crevice-mouthed
caves were used, the narrower
the mouth the better. This was
from fear of the preying animals
that made life a burden to us
in
those days and nights.
The first morning, after my
night's sleep with Lop-Ear, I
learned the advantage of the
narrow-mouthed caves. It was
just daylight when old Saber-Tooth,
the tiger, walked into the open
space. Two of the Folk were already
up. They made a rush for it.
Whether they were panic-stricken,
or whether he was too close on
their heels for them to attempt
to scramble up the bluff to the
crevices, I do not know; but
at any rate they dashed into
the wide-mouthed cave wherein
Lop-Ear and I had played the
afternoon before.
What happened inside there
was no way of telling, but it
is fair to conclude that the
two Folk slipped through the
connecting crevice into the other
cave. This crevice was too small
to allow for the passage of Saber-Tooth,
and he came out the way he had
gone in, unsatisfied and angry.
It was evident that his night's
hunting had been unsuccessful
and that he had expected to make
a meal off of us. He caught sight
of the two Folk at the other
cave-mouth and sprang for them.
Of course, they darted through
the passageway into the first
cave. He emerged angrier than
ever and snarling.
Pandemonium broke loose amongst
the rest of us. All up and down
the great bluff, we crowded the
crevices and outside ledges,
and we were all chattering and
shrieking in a thousand keys.
And we were all making faces--snarling
faces; this was an instinct with
us. We were as angry as Saber-Tooth,
though our anger was allied with
fear. I remember that I shrieked
and made faces with the best
of them. Not only did they set
the example, but I felt the urge
from within me to do the same
things they were doing. My hair
was bristling, and I was convulsed
with a fierce, unreasoning rage.
For some time old Saber-Tooth
continued dashing in and out
of first the one cave and then
the other. But the two Folk merely
slipped back and forth through
the connecting crevice and eluded
him. In the meantime the rest
of us up the bluff had proceeded
to action. Every time he appeared
outside we pelted him with rocks.
At first we merely dropped them
on him, but we soon began to
whiz them down with the added
force of our muscles.
This bombardment drew Saber-Tooth's
attention to us and made him
angrier than ever. He abandoned
his pursuit of the two Folk and
sprang up the bluff toward the
rest of us, clawing at the crumbling
rock and snarling as he clawed
his upward way. At this awful
sight, the last one of us sought
refuge inside our caves. I know
this, because I peeped out and
saw the whole bluff-side deserted,
save for Saber-Tooth, who had
lost his footing and was sliding
and falling down.
I called out the cry of encouragement,
and again the bluff was covered
by the screaming horde and the
stones were falling faster than
ever. Saber-Tooth was frantic
with rage. Time and again he
assaulted the bluff. Once he
even gained the first crevice-entrances
before he fell back, but was
unable to force his way inside.
With each upward rush he made,
waves of fear surged over us.
At first, at such times, most
of us dashed inside; but some
remained outside to hammer him
with stones, and soon all of
us remained outside and kept
up the fusillade.
Never was so masterly a creature
so completely baffled. It hurt
his pride terribly, thus to be
outwitted by the small and tender
Folk. He stood on the ground
and looked up at us, snarling,
lashing his tail, snapping at
the stones that fell near to
him. Once I whizzed down a stone,
and just at the right moment
he looked up. It caught him full
on the end of his nose, and he
went straight up in the air,
all four feet of him, roaring
and caterwauling, what of the
hurt and surprise.
He was beaten and he knew it.
Recovering his dignity, he stalked
out solemnly from under the rain
of stones. He stopped in the
middle of the open space and
looked wistfully and hungrily
back at us. He hated to forego
the meal, and we were just so
much meat, cornered but inaccessible.
This sight of him started us
to laughing. We laughed derisively
and uproariously, all of us.
Now animals do not like mockery.
To be laughed at makes them angry.
And in such fashion our laughter
affected Saber-Tooth. He turned
with a roar and charged the bluff
again. This was what we wanted.
The fight had become a game,
and we took huge delight in pelting
him.
But this attack did not last
long. He quickly recovered his
common sense, and besides, our
missiles were shrewd to hurt.
Vividly do I recollect the vision
of one bulging eye of his, swollen
almost shut by one of the stones
we had thrown. And vividly do
I retain the picture of him as
he stood on the edge of the forest
whither he had finally retreated.
He was looking back at us, his
writhing lips lifted clear of
the very roots of his huge fangs,
his hair bristling and his tail
lashing. He gave one last snarl
and slid from view among the
trees.
And then such a chattering
as went up. We swarmed out of
our holes, examining the marks
his claws had made on the crumbling
rock of the bluff, all of us
talking at once. One of the two
Folk who had been caught in the
double cave was part-grown, half
child and half youth. They had
come out proudly from their refuge,
and we surrounded them in an
admiring crowd. Then the young
fellow's mother broke through
and fell upon him in a tremendous
rage, boxing his ears, pulling
his hair, and shrieking like
a demon. She was a strapping
big woman, very hairy, and the
thrashing she gave him was a
delight to the horde. We roared
with laughter, holding on to
one another or rolling on the
ground in our glee.
In spite of the reign of fear
under which we lived, the Folk
were always great laughers. We
had the sense of humor. Our merriment
was Gargantuan. It was never
restrained. There was nothing
half way about it. When a thing
was funny we were convulsed with
appreciation of it, and the simplest,
crudest things were funny to
us. Oh, we were great laughers,
I can tell you.
The way we had treated Saber-Tooth
was the way we treated all animals
that invaded the village. We
kept our run-ways and drinking-places
to ourselves by making life miserable
for the animals that trespassed
or strayed upon our immediate
territory. Even the fiercest
hunting animals we so bedevilled
that they learned to leave our
places alone. We were not fighters
like them; we were cunning and
cowardly, and it was because
of our cunning and cowardice,
and our inordinate capacity for
fear, that we survived in that
frightfully hostile environment
of the Younger World.
Lop-Ear, I figure, was a year
older than I. What his past history
was he had no way of telling
me, but as I never saw anything
of his mother I believed him
to be an orphan. After all, fathers
did not count in our horde. Marriage
was as yet in a rude state, and
couples had a way of quarrelling
and separating. Modern man, what
of his divorce institution, does
the same thing legally. But we
had no laws. Custom was all we
went by, and our custom in this
particular matter was rather
promiscuous .
Nevertheless, as this narrative
will show later on, we betrayed
glimmering adumbrations of the
monogamy that was later to give
power to, and make mighty, such
tribes as embraced it. Furthermore,
even at the time I was born,
there were several faithful couples
that lived in the trees in the
neighborhood of my mother. Living
in the thick of the horde did
not conduce to monogamy. It was
for this reason, undoubtedly,
that the faithful couples went
away and lived by themselves.
Through many years these couples
stayed together, though when
the man or woman died or was
eaten the survivor invariably
found a new mate.
There was one thing that greatly
puzzled me during the first days
of my residence in the horde.
There was a nameless and incommunicable
fear that rested upon all. At
first it appeared to be connected
wholly with direction. The horde
feared the northeast. It lived
in perpetual apprehension of
that quarter of the compass.
And every individual gazed more
frequently and with greater alarm
in that direction than in any
other.
When Lop-Ear and I went toward
the north-east to eat the stringy-rooted
carrots that at that season were
at their best, he became unusually
timid. He was content to eat
the leavings, the big tough carrots
and the little ropy ones, rather
than to venture a short distance
farther on to where the carrots
were as yet untouched. When I
so ventured, he scolded me and
quarrelled with me. He gave me
to understand that in that direction
was some horrible danger, but
just what the horrible danger
was his paucity of language would
not permit him to say.
Many a good meal I got in this
fashion, while he scolded and
chattered vainly at me. I could
not understand. I kept very alert,
but I could see no danger. I
calculated always the distance
between myself and the nearest
tree, and knew that to that haven
of refuge I could out-foot the
Tawny One, or old Saber-Tooth,
did one or the other suddenly
appear.
One late afternoon, in the
village, a great uproar arose.
The horde was animated with a
single emotion, that of fear.
The bluff-side swarmed with the
Folk, all gazing and pointing
into the northeast. I did not
know what it was, but I scrambled
all the way up to the safety
of my own high little cave before
ever I turned around to see.
And then, across the river,
away into the northeast, I saw
for the first time the mystery
of smoke. It was the biggest
animal I had ever seen. I thought
it was a monster snake, up-ended,
rearing its head high above the
trees and swaying back and forth.
And yet, somehow, I seemed to
gather from the conduct of the
Folk that the smoke itself was
not the danger. They appeared
to fear it as the token of something
else. What this something else
was I was unable to guess. Nor
could they tell me. Yet I was
soon to know, and I was to know
it as a thing more terrible than
the Tawny One, than old Saber-Tooth,
than the snakes themselves, than
which it seemed there could be
no things more terrible.
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