CAVE MEN
KROTOX and Asgar had killed a goat and were eating it. They squatted at
the entrance of their habitation, with the skinned carcass between them,
and cut strips of flesh from it with their sharp stone knives. These they
toasted over the red flames that flickered up from a crevice in the rocky
platform which was their feeding place. Their cave was half-way up the
side of a crag, at whose foot, several hundred feet below, ran a hot river
from the lake that filled the basin further up the gorge. The path to the
cave was a narrow footway formed partly by zigzag cracks in the face of
the cliff, and partly of steps or holes made by hand. It was secure even
from the big serpents and lizards, but not convenient for ordinary
household purposes.
“You forgot the salt. It was your turn to get it,” remarked Krotox.
“I had enough to do, killing the goat,” returned Asgar. “You were down in
the gorge and might have fetched up salt enough for a month from the
pocket beside the basin. You’d like to doze here and let me run about and
wait on you, I suppose!”
Krotox cracked a marrowbone between his jaws. “I had important business,”
he said. “You remember Yolgu? Well, he came over from the other side
to-day.”
“I didn’t think he had the spirit for it,” remarked Asgar. “Of course,
he’s planning to raise and army and capture Torpeon!” he added with a
sneer.
“I didn’t ask him. But he brought news.”
The conversation was interrupted by a deep rumbling noise which caused the
solid cliff to vibrate and the flame to leap up in the aperture. It was
followed by an explosion in the group of mountains over against that on
which they were, and a column of smoke and fire climbed heavily into the
sky, spread out fountain-wise, and subsided, sending fragments of molten
stone and cinders in all directions, some of them falling close to the
entrance of the cave, into which Krotox and Asgar had withdrawn. They now
resumed their places and their meal, letting the incident, which was far
from being a novelty, pass without comment.
“News, eh?” grunted Asgar. “Another raid on Saturn, probably?”
“I said news!” retorted the other. “He has taken a woman!”
“Who? Yolgu?”
“No; Torpeon!”
“Torpeon! I wish I could believe it! When Torpeon takes a woman honest men
may hope for their rights! But Yolgu was always a liar.”
“And Asgar will never cease being a fool. Torpeon has taken a woman, and
he got her from the little planet down beyond Jupiter.”
Asgar chuckled contemptuously. “Did she bring her little planet with her?”
“She was visiting Lamara,” Krotox continued composedly. “There were
details, but nothing of importance. Torpeon got her away, and she is now
with him at the castle. Yolgu saw her just before he came here. She’s not
like our kind, or the Saturnians either.”
Asgar meditated for a while. “Even if the story were true,” he said at
last, “I don’t see how it would help us.”
“I was waiting for you to say that!” observed Krotox with a sardonic
glance. “In the first place, she’s a woman; next, she has new magic;
thirdly, she came unwillingly. The result is certain! But not so certain
as that you are going to ask me how?”
“I question only persons capable of intelligent answers,” rejoined the
other. “You spoke of the details of her coming as being unimportant; to my
mind they are quite as important as her arrival itself. Whether she came
alone; if not, who were her companions; whether she gained access to
Saturn through Lamara’s help or independently; what object had she
proposed to herself: points such as these might enable us to judge whether
the situation warranted our concerning ourselves about the matter. But—”
At this juncture there was another interruption. Though by no means as
outrageous and cataclysmic as the other, it produced a much more startling
effect on the two troglodytes. They threw themselves flat on their
stomachs and peered cautiously over the edge of the rocky shelf. The sound
had come from below. The custom of social visiting had never been in vogue
on the dark side of Tor, and any invasion of privacy was likely to suggest
a hostile intent. “Where are the poison-stones?” whispered Asgar.
“I have three here,” replied Krotox, “but I won’t waste them on you—you
couldn’t hit the earth from the top of a pock tree! I see nothing; it must
have been a tiger.”
“It was more like a hyena—hark!”
A peculiar call again sounded from below. “Coo-ee!”
The men exchanged an uneasy look, but remained silent. The gorge was deep,
and wreaths of smoke from the volcano, yellow and sluggish, were coiling
through it.”
“Hello, you dubs!” presently came a shrill voice out of the abyss. “Ain’t
yer got no elevator in dis joint? Does yer haul yer patrons up wid a rope?
Well, I’s a comin’, anyway; so stick de ham-an’-eggs inter de saucepan an’
a go uv lager on de side! I’s bringin’ me hunger wid me!”
“I see it now!” whispered Asgar; “give me a stone—ah, you missed it! What
is it—a goblin? It climbs like a beetle!”
Krotox hurled another stone.
“You guys ain’t even in de class uv de bush-leaguers,” remarked the voice,
sounding nearer than before, and in no way discouraged by this reception.
“Never seen my spit-ball, did yer? Say, she curves roun’ de batter’s nut
and swats him in de off eye! Ef dat’s yer best yer goes back to de bench.
Git me?”
“It’s coming straight up the cliff!” exclaimed Krotox in dismay. “It must
be a goblin! I never saw one before; we must pretend we’re glad to see
it!”
“Get if off its guard and then leave it to me,” muttered Asgar. “It’ll go
down faster than it came up!”
This hospitable purpose had no sooner been formulated than the visitor’s
head appeared above the level of the ledge, and the next moment he was
standing beside the remnants of the goat; a one-legged apparition,
supported under his left shoulder by a black crutch. His involuntary hosts
regarded him with grimaces of feigned welcome, which ill disguised their
fear and amazement. They were crouching on their hams at the mouth of the
cavern.
“Home-sweet-home!” called out the apparition cheerfully; he was not even
winded by his extraordinary feat. “Git up an’ hustle now, you ginks; yer
ain’t in de habit uv meetin’ toffs like me—I kin see dat! So dis is de
roof-gard’n; eh? Don’ bodder wid de cabbyrat stuff—my time’s wort’ about
ten plunks an inch, an’ dirt cheap at dat! I’s de One-Legged Avenger, an’
I’s campin’ on de trail uv ol’ Torpy! Has eeder o’ you ducks seen him—dat
fuzzy-haired geezer wid de red sweater looped round him? Cough up!”
Jim’s dialect was doubtless modified to Toridian ears by planetary
conditions; but it was Krotox, who was bony, aquiline, and quicker of
apprehension than his lethargic and unwieldy companion, who was first able
to decipher the code: for “Torpy” read “Torpeon.”
“The person you mention, worshipful stranger,” he said in his most sugary
accents, “does not rule over this side of our planet, and is never seen
here. To find him, you must travel east, passing those two ranges of
mountains, by way of that volcano which is just now beginning an eruption.
Beyond that is a lake, which—”
“Yer kin bite it off right dere, ol’ pal,” interposed Jim; “I ain’t in de
g’ography class dis trip. Git me headed right an’ I’m dere—see? Me an’
Torpy has a bone to pick togedder, an’ I’m treatin’ some ginks ter a feed
at Delmonniker’s at eight-t’irty, an’ me wid about a billion miles ter
cover between dis and dat; so I ain’t loafin’ on me job. I’ll mebbe be
back later an’ give t’ings here de once-over. Looks like dere might be a
boom in real-estate in dese parts. Got a ticker inside? What’s de quotin’s
on city lots in dis block? Gimme de inside an’ den some? I ain’t no
piker!”
Krotox and Asgar looked at each other in manifest perplexity. Though not
unfamiliar with trouble, some of our modern afflictions were still unknown
to them. But they were interested in the allusions to Torpeon; if this
supernatural creature had hostile designs against the common enemy the
opportunity should be improved.
“Powerful being,” said Asgar, “we are poor exiles and know nothing of the
things you speak of, whether they be animals or vegetables. But Torpeon is
the author of our misfortunes, and if he has also wronged you, we may be
of use to one another.”
“Now yer talkin’, an’ we gits down to brass tacks,” Jim replied with
animation. “Dis geezer has swiped de gal uv a frien’ o’ mine; an’ me, I’s
figgerin’ to counter on his jaw an’ do de reskoo stunt—see? Ef you ducks
has de inside track mapped out, gimme de tip; an’ when I lan’s de goods, I
take de gal, an’ what’s left yer stuffs in yer jeans an’ dey won’ be no
come-back on it. Mebbe,” he added thoughtfully, “me line o’ talk is some
too illegint fer de likes o’ you poor hoboes; but I’s doin’ me best!”
“If your grace condescends to extend protection over us, we are the slaves
of your will,” rejoined Asgar, after he and Krotox had conferred for a few
moments. “It is known to us that the sinful Torpeon has done this crowning
outrage, and plans others, unless prevented. If you will graciously kill
him you shall be king of all our country, and we, your ministers, will lay
its spoils and its inhabitants at your feet.”
“Lil ol’ N’York is good enough for me, but I reco’nizes yer obligin’
sperrit,” said Jim agreeably. “We plays de Evans’s gambit, an’ I figgers
to checkmate de black king in four moves. Dere’ll be glory enough fer all,
an’ yer takes de rinsin’s a free gift. Ef dat’s a go, put it dere!”
He extended his hand, which Asgar and Krotox in succession humbly touched
to their foreheads.
“Now kids,” Jim proceeded, “yer sees dis here kyar!” He exhibited his
crutch, patting it caressingly as if it were a beautiful vehicle of the
most luxurious and costly description. “We gets aboard, an’ we steers due
east till we sights de stronghold uv de inimy. Nobody don’t see us—’cause
why?—I turns de peg here in de neck an’ crack!—we vanishes like blowin’
out de gas in de hotel room-wid-bat’. I mounts de secret back stairs, an’
fust t’ing yer knows yer sees Torpy flyin’ out de top-story winder an’
lightin’ on his nut. Dat’s the signal fer startin’ ‘Hail to der Chief,’
an’ me and de lady appears on de battlemints, an’ waves our han’s gracious
to der applaudin’ t’ousands. Dere’s mebbe some t’ings I’s left out o’ de
yarn; but yer gits me drift! All you gotta do is yank off yer shirt an’
holler yer heads off, while me and de lady sings ‘Good-by, proud worl’,
we’s goin’ home,’ de lights shets off an’ we sinks below de verge ter show
music. Are yer on?”
“Mighty emperor, dispose of us as you will!” grunted Asgar and Krotox,
bewildered into hypnosis by this rousing exhortation.
“Git astride de stick an’ come on!” Jim ordered; and the monstrous ravines
and peaks of Tor sank beneath them.