BETWEEN TWO FIRES
It was not a very loud noise, but it was distinct from the other
sounds, many and riotously blended and strange though some of them
were. It was an animal noise, to speak of it with some manner of
definiteness, but that does not reach the queerness and almost
absurdity of it. At the start it was a kind of bellow, then it toned
down to a succession of hog-like grunts, and at last, with a startling
and unnerving suddenness, it flattened to a sharp, explosive hiss. It
was certainly a noise easily to be remembered if once heard, and it did
not need the other sounds of the movements of a great, preponderous
body, now also plain enough, to settle finally what sort of thing or
shape it was.
Sure-dart knew, though he had heard the strange notes but two or three
times before. It was because he knew that he forgot all the cheer of
the moonrise, and turned so grave. It was now certain that the unseen
monster was heading that way, and was already within three or four
spear-casts.
For a moment the boy, trained in the school of desperate emergencies,
stood still, and deliberately thought. What he did must be the right
thing, for a blunder was likely to be costly. He must bear in mind all
the while that there were others as well as himself to think of.
In that brief time the creature had come some paces nearer. It was
making rather heavy work of it in the marshiest spots, judging by
the squashy noises, and it splashed tremendously when it came to a
pool, but nevertheless, it was moving at what was relatively good
speed. To judge by the sounds, its great strength and bulk were more
than overcoming its disadvantage of weight, and were carrying it
unswervingly and unyieldingly along.
But Sure-dart had now finished his thinking, and had come to a
decision. He knew enough of the coming monster to understand that it
was little likely to attack the camp; for in fact, wild creatures in
general will not deliberately begin a fight with any considerable
number of grown men. Besides, he knew that this particular monster
was not a flesh-eater. It would have no use for human beings as food.
No, the trouble lay in another direction. If the creature kept on it
would soon be in his immediate neighborhood, and if it saw him, alone
as he was, it was more than likely that it would take offence and
charge. In that case, as there were no trees close by, and no cave of
refuge, it was likely to be all up with him. The only seeming chance
would be to make a dash for the camp; but though he could outrun the
monster, it would probably be by a small margin, and when he should
have gained the shelter the terrible brute would be at his heels.
In that event the creature would rush blindly on, after the dogged
perseverance of its kind, and before anything could be done it would
be trampling about amongst the helpless sleepers. Even if it then took
fright and fled--and this Sure-dart was certain it would not do, being
then furious and lost to fear--it could hardly get away without doing
serious harm. Its weight reached tons, and a single spank of one of its
great feet would drive life and shape out of a human body.
And there was still another reason why the boy did not like to flee
back to the camp: to do that he must leave his post unguarded, and
it might well be that at that very moment those wily wretches, the
Fishers, were creeping up to attack.
What, then, was left that could be done? Apparently but one thing,--to
alarm the camp. Even then there was likely to be disaster, for in the
haste and the unpreparedness for this kind of enemy, some must almost
certainly be killed. This again would be one more piece of help and
encouragement for the Fishers.
Well, Sure-dart had made up his mind, and, strangely enough, he had
been able to think of still another plan. He was determined, before
falling back on any of the others, to try it.
Still nearer the invisible monster floundered; but just then the mists
and vapors paled still more, and all at once the giant moon--a moon
such as we of this day never saw--flashed out yellow and magnificent,
and the whole marsh, to the very hills beyond, came out as in a soft
and sparkling twilight.
Sure-dart was bending forward a little in his anxiety, and watching for
the first glimpse of the great, hulking shape. He knew that it was
difficult to be exactly sure of the direction of a sound when heard
through a fog, and he was not willing to waste any time; but as the
light broke over the great green level it showed him instantly what he
was looking for, and he was almost exactly right as to direction.
The creature was still some little way off, but even by a poorer light
than this it would have been distinct at twice the distance. It was
head-on, and so its length could not be made out, but its shoulders
rose in a great dusky mass, and unless the invisible part was all out
of proportion, the whole creature was bigger than any elephant.
But it did not look like an elephant. Far more it resembled a
rhinoceros, though with such strange and repulsive differences as only
that age of monsters could show. These differences would be plainer as
it came nearer, but even now they were easily to be made out. In the
first place, there was a kind of saw-tooth showing on the crest of the
spine, and this looked like one of those astonishing lizard marks that
had appeared in some of the other giant creatures. They belonged there,
for the monster was in truth but another of those exaggerated reptiles
that have seemed to later ages like the ravings of a delirious dream.
Its head was snouted uncouthly, it had a short horn like a rhinoceros,
but it had a bill like a turtle; it had no visible ears, and behind its
head there was a monstrous sort of fleshy frill. This also had points,
and the whole almost hid its upper shoulders, as the ruffs of Queen
Elizabeth’s time did those of the fashionable men and women. This much
appeared at a glance, and it needed but another to bring out still more
of the monstrous marks. For instance, the eyes walled out a little,
and were overhung by great bony plates, and just back of each of these
was a long horn. Thus it had the head of a rhinoceros, the snout of a
turtle, the horns of a bull, and the frill-mark of a lizard. Had it
been still nearer it could have been seen that its body was covered
with scales, and not hair, and that its color was a dull green.
Sure-dart did not need to make all this study of the monster, for he
had only too clear an idea of its looks; his business just now was
of another and decidedly more pressing kind. The instant that he was
absolutely certain of the creature’s direction and nearness he began to
move.
He deliberately turned his back on the camp, and ran lightly a
spear-cast up the ridge track. There he stopped, and quietly waited.
The giant, already close to the ridge, scrambled out upon it, and
raised his hideous head for an investigating look around. The slim,
upright shape, clear of other objects and plain in the flooding light,
almost instantly caught his notice. Out went his frightful head as he
stretched his neck for another look, and then, just as Sure-dart had
expected, he gave his snout an irritated toss, and started at a slow
trot that way.
Sure-dart threw one more look behind him, making certain that there
was no sudden danger from that direction, and began to walk slowly
backwards. The monster grunted, evidently growing more irritated at
the continued presence of the slim creature, and broke into a heavy
gallop. The boy was sure enough now of the first part of his plan, for
he had drawn the monster away from the neighborhood of the camp, and
it remained to see how the rest of the idea would work. As far as he
was concerned, it was all-important just how it worked, for if it went
wrong, it would mean to him the end of everything. It was likely that
his friends, when they came to look for him, would find enough in the
spatters of flesh to make sure that it was he, but that would be about
all. He wheeled and ran at his best speed toward the high lands, and
the scene of the late battle.
Four-legged creatures, even heavy and clumsy ones, have an advantage in
running over two-legged ones. The larger animals, too, always go faster
than a person looking on would guess, so that a common domestic cow,
for instance, breaking into her clumsy gallop, cannot easily be headed
by an ordinary sprinter. Sure-dart, trained in all such work as he was,
made no mistake of this kind, but did his best at the start, thinking
that the best was none too good. Three-horns, combining a bull’s grunt
with one of his diabolical hisses, thundered along after.
Sure-dart, though he was going so fast that he could not get a clear
look at anything, was nevertheless taking a general account of things
a little ahead. It was not many rods to where the first of the small
mounds rose like a little islet out of the morass, and it was this that
he was noting, guessing the distance as well as conditions would allow.
Three-horns gained a little with every clumsy, but long-reaching
stride, and before Sure-dart was quite to the part of the ridge
opposite the first of the islets, not more than twenty paces separated
them. Now, whatever the risk from the delay, the boy had to check
himself and glance around. It was a dreadful strain on his nerves not
to have done so before, but he had understood what it might cost. He
put on the brakes, as it were, and glanced over his shoulder. It was
like a sickening blow to see how near the monster was. It had not
seemed possible that he could drive his great bulk along so fast.
Sure-dart faltered for one second, but the next his strength had come
back, and he shot forward almost as if he had been fired from a gun.
The spurt brought him close to that part of the ridge that lay opposite
the mound, or little islet; without a pause he swerved, and in a
twinkling was flying out over the soft and oozy green level.
The water gushed and made sucking noises under his feet; he went
half-way to his knees once, and the next step trod on something that
squirmed, but at the same desperate scramble he kept on. A few more
leaps, and he was bounding up the hard slope of the little mound.
Three-horns was certainly outfooted for the time being, for his great
weight, in spite of the spread of his feet, and of his vast strength,
told tremendously against him, and he could do no more than plunge and
wallow. A little farther along he sank to his belly. The footing here
was softer than on the other side of the ridge, and the crafty human
creature knew it.
[Illustration: “Three-horns’ great weight, in spite of the spread of
his feet, and of his vast strength, told tremendously against him”]
Still, with the dull, unswerving obstinacy of the beast that he
resembled, as well as with the fierce pertinacity of the reptile that
he really was, Three-horns held on. He, too, could scramble out upon
the solid ground, once he could reach it, and surely the slim creature
could find no retreat or hiding-place there.
Sure-dart was by no means winded, but he stopped an instant to get a
helpful breath, and then sprang down the other side of the mound. To
the north the reflection of the strong moonlight seemed to bring out
a little sea, but it was really in no way different from the swamp,
pools, and little island dry spots that were at hand. Sure-dart,
with the exception of the serious underrating of the great lizard’s
speed, had thus far made no mistake, and that blunder had not as yet
brought him to grief. Taking still another good breath, he sprang down
the other side of this mound, and splashed and skimmed along to the
next. He had not found what he was looking for in the first mound. He
distanced the monster to this second mound, also, and on reaching the
top found what he wanted. The mound looked like the other, with one
exception; but this, to Sure-dart, was all-important: the mound was
several feet higher in the middle.
He waited a moment, till Three-horns was again near; then he crossed
straight over the top of the mound, and down the other side, and so out
of sight.
The instant that he was fully out of view of his pursuer he dropped
to hands and knees, and with the sinuous ease of a snake crawled
back along the northern, or shadowed side of the mound, and wormed
himself chin-deep in the slime and water. He knew the risk he was
taking, for he did not forget the giant leeches, and still more,
the water-snakes, the great, spiteful crabs,--with claws like a
blacksmith’s pincers,--and the giant turtles; but he thought little of
them as compared with the peril he was trying to dodge.
There was luckily one thing in which these ancient monsters fell behind
the warm-blooded animals of our times: they had very poor hearing, and
but slight power of smell. Sure-dart took this into account, too, in
trying his daring little trick. He managed to work his head back, till
it was nearly hidden by a drooping tuft of bushes, and with a little
faintness from the excitement waited.
The dull-witted monster, with its pound or two of brains, just
sufficient to keep it tenaciously about its purpose, came rushing up
the slope of the mound, and, without stopping, plunged and nearly
tumbled down the other side.
Sure-dart could almost have laughed, both from the easy success of the
trick, and from relief, and he quickly slipped around to the west side
of the mound, and made one more short pause. He wanted to be sure that
the monster was a safe distance away before he came out upon the ridge.
Once he could thus get back to solid ground he could call on what was
left of his wind and speed, and make a straight dash for the camp. The
sleepers would then have seasonable notice of the possible danger,
and without confusion could prepare to meet it. A line of spearsmen
showing in the open, should the monster come that way, would doubtless
daunt him, and turn him back. At least, the chief would then be
responsible as to what should be done. As to his former unwillingness
to quit his post, that did not now worry him. If the Fishers were out
night-prowling, and if they advanced along the ridge, they would meet
something that would give them business of their own to attend to.
Sure-dart thought with grim pleasure of what would be likely to happen
if the unsuspecting war-party came down from the woods, and ran afoul
of the exasperated Three-horns. They would have no time to prepare,
and he would be so near that most likely he would fall into a kind of
savage craze, and charge straight on.
Thinking of these things helped to pass the little time that Sure-dart
thought it was now reasonable to wait, and he stood up and stepped
toward the ridge. He was waist-deep in water, and would be shielded
from the sight of any creature on the east side of the mound. He kept
on toward the ridge till--well, till a certain thing made him very
suddenly pull up.
Rising into a great black hump, as it came up from the swamp, but
catching the moonlight fully upon it the next instant, and not three
spear-lengths off, he again saw--what but the great bulk of his late
enemy? No, the foolish illusion passed almost as soon as it came, but
not so the creature itself. No, for though it was not the beast that
had just chased him, it was another of the same sort, and about as
large. It was no doubt the lagging mate of the first monster, now a
little uneasy that she could see or hear nothing of her lord. Sure-dart
had heard that the male of the species often straggled along ahead of
the female, and this particularly at night, when they generally changed
from one feeding ground to another. These changes they made rather
frequently, he had been told, as in this way they were more likely to
avoid the death-beasts, the latter being their only dreaded enemies.
There was no time for elaborate plans, and the only thing that
suggested itself to him was to squat down where he was, barely keeping
his face out of water, and even ducking that under as the creature came
close. There did not seem to be time, without dangerous exposure, to
scuttle back to his old hiding-place.
So he squatted down where he had been standing, and tipped back his
head, leaving barely his lips and nose clear.
It would be a trying few minutes; for the monster, if she did not leave
the ridge, would pass within four or five paces of him. If, however,
she should leave the ridge, in some way tracking her mate, then she
might come still nearer; in fact, she might pass over that very spot.
In that case there would be nothing for it but to spring up just in
time, and rush out over the marsh.
He had barely thought this out, doing it quickly, too, as minds
sometimes work in emergencies, when a grunt, ending in the steam sound
of a sharp hiss, told him that the moment of terrible suspense had come.