A GREAT ENTERPRISE.
What always happens when two boys not yet fairly in their 'teens meet, at
first aggressively, and then, each gradually overcoming this apprehension
of the other, decide upon a close acquaintance and long comradeship?
Their talk is firmly optimistic and they constitute much of the world. As
for Ab and Oak, when there had come to them an ease in conversation,
there dawned gradually upon each the idea that, next to himself, the
other was probably the most important personage in the world, fitting
companion and confederate of a boy who in an incredibly short space of
time was going to become a man and do things on a tremendous scale.
Seated upon the rock, a point of ease and vantage, they talked long of
what two boys might do, and so earnest did they become in considering
their possible great exploits that Ab demanded of Oak that he go with him
to his home. This was a serious matter. It was a no slight thing for a
boy of that day, allowed a playground within certain limits adjacent to
his cave home, to venture far away; but this in Oak's life was a great
occasion. It was the first time he had ever met and talked with a boy of
his age, and he became suddenly reckless, assenting promptly to Ab's
proposal. They ran along the forest paths together toward Ab's cave,
clucking in their queer language and utilizing in that short journey most
of the brief vocabulary of the day in anticipatory account of what they
were going to do.
Ab's father and mother rather approved of Oak. They even went so far as
to consent that Ab might pay a return visit upon the succeeding day,
though it was stipulated that the father--and this was a demand the
mother made--should accompany the boy upon most of the journey. One-Ear
knew Oak's father very well. Oak's father, Stripe-Face, was a man of
standing in the widely-scattered community. Stripe-Face was so called
because in a casual, and, on his part, altogether uninvited encounter
with a cave bear when he was a young man, a sweep of the claws of his
adversary had plowed furrows down one cheek, leaving scars thereafter
which were livid streaks. One-Ear and Stripe-Face were good friends.
Sometimes they hunted together; they had fought together, and it was
nothing out of the way, and but natural, that Ab and Oak should become
companions. So it came that One-Ear went across the forest with his boy
the next day and visited the cave of Stripe-Face, and that the two young
cubs went out together buoyant and in conquering mood, while the grown
men planned something for their own advantage. Certainly the boys matched
well. A finer pair of youngsters of eight or nine years of age could
hardly be imagined than these two who sallied forth that afternoon. They
send very fine boys nowadays to our great high schools in the United
States, and to Rugby and Eaton and Harrow in England, but never went
forth a finer pair to learn things. No smattering of letters or lore of
any printed sort had these rugged youths, but their eyes were piercing as
those of the eagle, the grip of their hands was strong, their pace was
swift when they ran upon the ground and their course almost as rapid when
they swung along the treetops. They were self-possessed and ready and
alert and prepared to pass an examination for admission to any university
of the time; that is, to any of Nature's universities, where
matriculation depended upon prompt conception of existing dangers and the
ways of avoiding them, and of all adroitness in attainments which gave
food and shelter and safety. Eh! but they were a gallant pair, these two
young gentlemen who burst forth, owning the world entirely and feeling a
serene confidence in their ability, united, to maintain their rights. And
their ambitions soon took a definite turn. They decided that they must
kill a horse!
The wild horse of the time, already referred to as esteemed for his
edible qualities, was, in the opinion of the cave people, but of moderate
value otherwise. He was abundant, ranging in herds of hundreds along the
pampas of the great Thames valley, and furnished forth abundant food for
man as well as the wild beasts, when they could capture him. His skin,
though, was not counted of much worth. Its short hair afforded little
warmth in cloak or breech-clout, and the tanned pelt became hard and
uncomfortable when it dried after a wetting. Still, there were various
uses for this horse's hide. It made fine strings and thongs, and the
beast's flesh, as has been said, was a staple of the larder. The first
great resolve of Ab and Oak, these two gallant soldiers of fortune, was
that, alone and unaided, they would circumvent and slay one of these wild
horses, thereby astonishing their respective families, at the same time
gaining the means for filling the stomachs of those families to
repletion, and altogether covering themselves with glory.
Not in a day nor in a week were the plans of these youthful warriors and
statesmen matured. The wild horse had long since learned that the
creature man was as dangerous to it as were any of the fierce four-footed
animals which hunted it, and its scent was good and its pace was swift
and it went in herds and avoided doubtful places. Not so easy a task as
it might seem was that which Ab and Oak had resolved upon. There must be
some elaborate device to attain their end, but they were confident. They
had noted often what older hunters did, and they felt themselves as good
as anybody. They plotted long and earnestly and even made a mental
distribution of their quarry, deciding what should be done with its skin
and with its meat, far in advance of any determination upon a plan for
its capture and destruction. They were boys.
There was no objection from the parents. They knew that the boys must
learn to become hunters, and if the two were not now capable of taking
care of themselves in the wood, then they were but disappointing
offspring. Consent secured, the boys acted entirely upon their own
responsibility, and, to make their subsequent plans clearer, it may be
well to explain a little more of the geography of the region. The cave of
Ab was on the north side of the stream, where the rocky banks came close
together with a little beach at either side, and the cave of Oak was
perhaps a mile to the westward, on the same side of the stream and with
very similar surroundings. On the south side of the river, opposite the
high banks between the two caves, the land was a prairie valley reaching
far away. On the north side as well there was at one place a little
valley, but it reached back only a few hundred yards from the river and
was surrounded by the forest-crowned hills. The close standing oaks and
beeches afforded, in emergency, a highway among their ranches, and along
this pathway the boys were comparatively safe. Either could climb a tree
at any time, and of the animals that were dangerous in the treetops there
were but few; in fact, there was only one of note, a tawny, cat-like
creature, not numerous, and resembling the lynx of the present day.
Almost in the midst of the little plain or valley, on the north side of
the river, rose a clump of trees, and in this the two boys saw means
afforded them for a realization of their hopes. The wild horses fed
daily in the valley to the north, as in the greater one to the south of
the river. But there also, in the high grass, as upon the south,
sometimes lurked the great beasts of prey, and to be far away from a tree
upon the plain was an unsafe thing for a cave man. From the forest edge
to the clump of trees was not more than two minutes' rush for a vigorous
boy and it was this fact which suggested to the youths their plan of
capture of the horse.
The homes of the cave men were located, when possible, where the refuge
of safety overhung closely the river's bank, and where the non-climbing
animals must pass along beneath them, but, even at that period of few men
and abundant animal life, there had developed an acuteness among the
weaker beasts, and they had learned to avoid certain paths that had
proved fatal to their brethren. They were numerous in the plains and
comparatively careless there, relying upon their speed to escape more
dangerous wild beasts, but they passed rarely beneath the ledges, where a
weighty rock dropped suddenly meant certain death. It was not a task
entirely easy for the cave men to have meat with regularity, flush as was
the life about them. New devices must be resorted to, and Ab and Oak were
about to employ one not infrequently successful.
The clam of the period, particularly the clam along this reach of the
upper Thames, was a marvel in his make-up. He was as large as he was
luscious, as abundant as he was both and was a great feature in the food
supply of the time. Not merely was he a feature in the food supply, but
in a mechanical way, and the first object sought by the boys, after their
plan had been agreed upon, was the shell of the great clam. They had no
difficulty in securing what they wanted, for strewn all about each cave
were the big shells in abundance. Sharp-edged, firm-backed, one of these
shells made an admirable little shovel, something with which to cut the
turf and throw up the soil, a most useful implement in the hands of the
river haunting people. The idea of the youngsters was simply this: Their
rendezvous should be at that point in the forest nearest the clump of
trees standing solitary in the valley below. They would select the safest
hours and then from the high ground make a sudden dash to the tree clump.
They would be watchful, of course, and seek to avoid the class of animals
for whom boys made admirable luncheon. Once at the clump of trees and
safely ensconced among the branches, they could determine wisely upon the
next step in their adventure. They were very knowing, these young men,
for they had observed their elders. What they wanted to do, what was the
end and aim of all this recklessness, was to dig a pit in this rich
valley land close to the clump of trees, a pit say some ten feet in
length by six feet in breadth and seven or eight feet in depth. That
meant a gigantic labor. Gillian, of "The Toilers of the Sea," assigned to
himself hardly a greater task. These were boys of the cave kind and must,
perforce, conduct themselves originally. As to the details of the plan,
well, they were only vague, as yet, but rapidly assuming a form more
definite.
The first thing essential for the boys was to reach the clump of trees.
It was just before noon one day when they swung together on a tree branch
sweeping nearly to the ground, and at a point upon the hill directly
opposite the clump. This was the time selected for their first dash. They
studied every square yard of the long grass of the little valley with
anxious eyes. In the distance was feeding a small drove of wild horses
and, farther away, close by the river side, upreared occasionally what
might be the antlers of the great elk of the period. Between the boys and
the clump of trees there was no movement of the grass, nor any sign of
life. They could discern no trace of any lurking beast.
"Are you afraid?" asked Ab.
"Not if we run together."
"All right," said Ab; "let's go it with a rush."
The slim brown bodies dropped lightly to the ground together, each of the
boys clasping one of the clamshells. Side by side they darted down the
slope and across through the deep grass until the clump of trees was
reached, when, like two young apes, they scrambled into the safety of the
branches.
The tree up which they had clambered was the largest of the group and of
dense foliage. It was one of the huge conifers of the age, but its
branches extended to within perhaps thirty feet of the ground, and from
the greatest of these side branches reached out, growing so close
together as to make almost a platform. It was but the work of a half hour
for these boys, with their arboreal gifts, to twine additional limbs
together and to construct for themselves a solid nest and lookout where
they might rest at ease, at a distance above the greatest leap of any
beast existing. In this nest they curled themselves down and, after much
clucking debate, formulated their plan of operation. Only one boy should
dig at a time, the other must remain in the nest as a lookout.
Swift to act in those days were men, because necessity had made it a
habit to them, and swifter still, as a matter of course, were impulsive
boys. Their tree nest fairly made, work, they decided, must begin at
once. The only point to be determined upon was regarding the location of
the pit. There was a tempting spread of green herbage some hundred feet
to the north and east of the tree, a place where the grass was high but
not so high as it was elsewhere. It had been grazed already by the
wandering horses and it was likely that they would visit the tempting
area again. There, it was finally settled, should the pit be dug. It was
quite a distance from the tree, but the increased chances of securing a
wild horse by making the pit in that particular place more than offset,
in the estimation of the boys, the added danger of a longer run for
safety in an emergency. The only question remaining was as to who should
do the first digging and who be the first lookout? There was a violent
debate upon this subject.
"I will go and dig and you shall keep watch," said Oak.
"No, I'll dig and you shall watch," was Ab's response. "I can run faster
than you."
Oak hesitated and was reluctant. He was sturdy, this young gentleman, but
Ab possessed, somehow, the mastering spirit. It was settled finally that
Ab should dig and Oak should watch. And so Ab slid down the tree,
clamshell in hand, and began laboring vigorously at the spot agreed upon.
It was not a difficult task for a strong boy to cut through tough grass
roots with the keen edge of the clamshell. He outlined roughly and
rapidly the boundaries of the pit to be dug and then began chopping out
sods just as the workman preparing to garnish some park or lawn begins
his work to-day. Meanwhile, Oak, all eyes, was peering in every
direction. His place was one of great responsibility, and he recognized
the fact. It was a tremendous moment for the youngsters.