I have no idea how long Lop-Ear
and I wandered in the land north
of the river. We were like mariners
wrecked on a desert isle, so
far as concerned the likelihood
of our getting home again. We
turned our backs upon the river,
and for weeks and months adventured
in that wilderness where there
were no Folk. It is very difficult
for me to reconstruct our journeying,
and impossible to do it from
day to day. Most of it is hazy
and indistinct, though here and
there I have vivid recollections
of things that happened.
Especially do I remember the
hunger we endured on the mountains
between Long Lake and Far Lake,
and the calf we caught sleeping
in the thicket. Also, there are
the Tree People who dwelt in
the forest between Long Lake
and the mountains. It was they
who chased us into the mountains
and compelled us to travel on
to Far Lake.
First, after we left the river,
we worked toward the west till
we came to a small stream that
flowed through marshlands. Here
we turned away toward the north,
skirting the marshes and after
several days arriving at what
I have called Long Lake. We spent
some time around its upper end,
where we found food in plenty;
and then, one day, in the forest,
we ran foul of the Tree People.
These creatures were ferocious
apes, nothing more. And yet they
were not so different from us.
They were more hairy, it is true;
their legs were a trifle more
twisted and gnarly, their eyes
a bit smaller, their necks a
bit thicker and shorter, and
their nostrils slightly more
like orifices in a sunken surface;
but they had no hair on their
faces and on the palms of their
hands and the soles of their
feet, and they made sounds similar
to ours with somewhat similar
meanings. After all, the Tree
People and the Folk were not
so unlike.
I found him first, a little
withered, dried-up old fellow,
wrinkled-faced and bleary-eyed
and tottery. He was legitimate
prey. In our world there was
no sympathy between the kinds,
and he was not our kind. He was
a Tree-Man, and he was very old.
He was sitting at the foot of
a tree--evidently his tree, for
we could see the tattered nest
in the branches, in which he
slept at night.
I pointed him out to Lop-Ear,
and we made a rush for him. He
started to climb, but was too
slow. I caught him by the leg
and dragged him back. Then we
had fun. We pinched him, pulled
his hair, tweaked his ears, and
poked twigs into him, and all
the while we laughed with streaming
eyes. His futile anger was most
absurd. He was a comical sight,
striving to fan into flame the
cold ashes of his youth, to resurrect
his strength dead and gone through
the oozing of the years--making
woful faces in place of the ferocious
ones he intended, grinding his
worn teeth together, beating
his meagre chest with feeble
fists.
Also, he had a cough, and he
gasped and hacked and spluttered
prodigiously. Every time he tried
to climb the tree we pulled him
back, until at last he surrendered
to his weakness and did no more
than sit and weep. And Lop-Ear
and I sat with him, our arms
around each other, and laughed
at his wretchedness.
From weeping
he went to whining, and from
whining to wailing,
until at last he achieved a scream.
This alarmed us, but the more
we tried to make him cease, the
louder he screamed. And then,
from not far away in the forest,
came a "Goek! Goek!" to our ears.
To this there were answering
cries, several of them, and from
very far off we could hear a
big, bass "Goek! Goek! Goek!" Also,
the "Whoo-whoo !" call was rising
in the forest all around us.
Then came the chase. It seemed
it never would end. They raced
us through the trees, the whole
tribe of them, and nearly caught
us. We were forced to take to
the ground, and here we had the
advantage, for they were truly
the Tree People, and while they
out-climbed us we out-footed
them on the ground. We broke
away toward the north, the tribe
howling on our track. Across
the open spaces we gained, and
in the brush they caught up with
us, and more than once it was
nip and tuck. And as the chase
continued, we realized that we
were not their kind, either,
and that the bonds between us
were anything but sympathetic.
They ran us
for hours. The forest seemed
interminable. We
kept to the glades as much as
possible, but they always ended
in more thick forest. Sometimes
we thought we had escaped, and
sat down to rest; but always,
before we could recover our breath,
we would hear the hateful "Whoo-whoo!" cries
and the terrible "Goek! Goek!
Goek!" This latter sometimes
terminated in a savage "Ha ha
ha ha haaaaa!!!"
And in this fashion were we
hunted through the forest by
the exasperated Tree People.
At last, by mid-afternoon, the
slopes began rising higher and
higher and the trees were becoming
smaller. Then we came out on
the grassy flanks of the mountains.
Here was where we could make
time, and here the Tree People
gave up and returned to their
forest.
The mountains were bleak and
inhospitable, and three times
that afternoon we tried to regain
the woods. But the Tree People
were lying in wait, and they
drove us back. Lop-Ear and I
slept that night in a dwarf tree,
no larger than a bush. Here was
no security, and we would have
been easy prey for any hunting
animal that chanced along.
In the morning, what of our
new-gained respect for the Tree
People, we faced into the mountains.
That we had no definite plan,
or even idea, I am confident.
We were merely driven on by the
danger we had escaped. Of our
wanderings through the mountains
I have only misty memories. We
were in that bleak region many
days, and we suffered much, especially
from fear, it was all so new
and strange. Also, we suffered
from the cold, and later from
hunger.
It--was a desolate land of
rocks and foaming streams and
clattering cataracts. We climbed
and descended mighty canyons
and gorges; and ever, from every
view point, there spread out
before us, in all directions,
range upon range, the unceasing
mountains. We slept at night
in holes and crevices, and on
one cold night we perched on
top a slender pinnacle of rock
that was almost like a tree.
And then, at last, one hot
midday, dizzy with hunger, we
gained the divide. From this
high backbone of earth, to the
north, across the diminishing,
down-falling ranges, we caught
a glimpse of a far lake. The
sun shone upon it, and about
it were open, level grass-lands,
while to the eastward we saw
the dark line of a wide-stretching
forest.
We were two days in gaining
the lake, and we were weak with
hunger; but on its shore, sleeping
snugly in a thicket, we found
a part-grown calf. It gave us
much trouble, for we knew no
other way to kill than with our
hands. When we had gorged our
fill, we carried the remainder
of the meat to the eastward forest
and hid it in a tree. We never
returned to that tree, for the
shore of the stream that drained
Far Lake was packed thick with
salmon that had come up from
the sea to spawn.
Westward from the lake stretched
the grass-lands, and here were
multitudes of bison and wild
cattle. Also were there many
packs of wild dogs, and as there
were no trees it was not a safe
place for us. We followed north
along the stream for days. Then,
and for what reason I do not
know, we abruptly left the stream
and swung to the east, and then
to the southeast, through a great
forest. I shall not bore you
with our journey. I but indicate
it to show how we finally arrived
at the Fire People's country.
We came out upon the river,
but we did not know it for our
river. We had been lost so long
that we had come to accept the
condition of being lost as habitual.
As I look back I see clearly
how our lives and destinies are
shaped by the merest chance.
We did not know it was our river--there
was no way of telling; and if
we had never crossed it we would
most probably have never returned
to the horde; and I, the modern,
the thousand centuries yet to
be born, would never have been
born .
And yet Lop-Ear and I wanted
greatly to return. We had experienced
homesickness on our journey,
the yearning for our own kind
and land; and often had I had
recollections of the Swift One,
the young female who made soft
sounds, whom it was good to be
with, and who lived by herself
nobody knew where. My recollections
of her were accompanied by sensations
of hunger, and these I felt when
I was not hungry and when I had
just eaten.
But to come back to the river.
Food was plentiful, principally
berries and succulent roots,
and on the river bank we played
and lingered for days. And then
the idea came to Lop-Ear. It
was a visible process, the coming
of the idea. I saw it. The expression
in his eyes became plaintive
and querulous, and he was greatly
perturbed. Then his eyes went
muddy, as if he had lost his
grip on the inchoate thought.
This was followed by the plaintive,
querulous expression as the idea
persisted and he clutched it
anew. He looked at me, and at
the river and the far shore.
He tried to speak, but had no
sounds with which to express
the idea. The result was a gibberish
that made me laugh. This angered
him, and he grabbed me suddenly
and threw me on my back. Of course
we fought, and in the end I chased
him up a tree, where he secured
a long branch and poked me every
time I tried to get at him.
And the idea had gone glimmering.
I did not know, and he had forgotten.
But the next morning it awoke
in him again. Perhaps it was
the homing instinct in him asserting
itself that made the idea persist.
At any rate it was there, and
clearer than before. He led me
down to the water, where a log
had grounded in an eddy. I thought
he was minded to play, as we
had played in the mouth of the
slough. Nor did I change my mind
as I watched him tow up a second
log from farther down the shore.
It was not until we were on
the logs, side by side and holding
them together, and had paddled
out into the current, that I
learned his intention. He paused
to point at the far shore, and
resumed his paddling, at the
same time uttering loud and encouraging
cries. I understood, and we paddled
energetically. The swift current
caught us, flung us toward the
south shore, but before we could
make a landing flung us back
toward the north shore.
Here arose dissension. Seeing
the north shore so near, I began
to paddle for it. Lop-Ear tried
to paddle for the south shore.
The logs swung around in circles,
and we got nowhere, and all the
time the forest was flashing
past as we drifted down the stream.
We could not fight. We knew better
than to let go the grips of hands
and feet that held the logs together.
But we chattered and abused each
other with our tongues until
the current flung us toward the
south bank again. That was now
the nearest goal, and together
and amicably we paddled for it.
We landed in an eddy, and climbed
directly into the trees to reconnoitre.
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