THE GREAT DOUBLE DUEL, AND THINGS LATER
The two death-beasts exchanged a sputtering hiss or two, as they came
on, and as soon as they were together they ranged up side and side,
as if they had been a yoke of giant oxen. The next instant they made
headlong into the opening.
Ranged side by side, too, the three-horns received them. The
death-beasts rose on their hind legs as they came to close quarters,
but the three-horns kept on all fours, and lowered their spiked heads.
For an instant the two rearing giants shot up almost as high as the
branch where Sure-dart rode, and he drew up his feet in alarm; but the
next moment the monsters were down again, and were completely covering
the two defenders. The smaller creatures seemed to give way in the
legs, as if they could not stand the weight, and the death-beasts sank
a little with them, all the while digging with their fore claws, and
crooking their serpent necks, as they tried to fasten with their teeth.
This seemed to be pretty near the end, close as it was to the
beginning, for the three-horns looked to be as good as blotted out.
It would be strange, indeed, if they could stand such a crushing and
tearing. Sure-dart did not see how they could, as he stood up and
looked over an obstructing branch, and tried to get a clearer view of
the tilting and heaving flesh-mountains.
But the first charge is not always the whole of a battle. The
three-horns now proved this. As Sure-dart was craning his neck so
as to see over the obstructing branch, he noticed that one of the
death-beasts was pushing or crowding down with her fore feet, and had
flung up, with a snake-like contortion, her long neck. She seemed to
be recoiling from what was under her, as if something had suddenly
gone wrong. In a moment, as Sure-dart wonderingly stared, she gave a
stronger push, dug her great hind claws into the ground, and floundered
and tumbled off the body of the creature below.
Sure-dart peered eagerly down to see what had happened, and was
surprised to find that the three-horned beast, though seemingly bruised
and showing dark in places, which were doubtless blood-stained, was
able to hold up her head, and was even making motions to rise. She did
come up the next moment, though only after a lurch and a scramble, and
backed away a few paces, then again defensively lowering her horned
snout.
The death-beast that had just been engaged with her, on the contrary,
lay flattened out, but raised her head languidly; Sure-dart then
saw that there was a great dusky patch on the side of her neck, and
on bending down, and looking still more closely, he could see that
the patch extended down to the shoulder; he was sure then that it
was bloody. This looked like the work of the three-horns’s great,
turtle-like bill, or perhaps came from a fall upon the terrible spiked
frill back of the creature’s head. There had been a turning and
twisting at the last, and it was impossible to say which supposition
was correct.
But as this round, as it might be called, ended, the fight elsewhere
grew, if anything, hotter.
The other death-beast had got his great hind feet into action, and it
seemed that they were working at the head of the three-horns, which
lay flat on its stomach. At the same time, the death-beast was biting
furiously at the other extremity, tearing away at the hips and flanks.
Sure-dart had no doubt of the end of this duel, but he watched it
closely, both from curiosity, and because he thought the conclusion
would be a step toward his own release. It did not take long to work
out.
The conquering death-beast rose a little, let the dying three-horns
half stagger up, and then fastened again with his teeth, and fore
claws, and gave a simultaneous dig with both hind feet. The force would
be hard to measure, but it would have ripped an elephant half in two,
and it tore the three-horns from his fore shoulders clear through the
length of his head. The creature instantly collapsed and came down in a
heap, and the death-beast, holding his fearful grip, sank with him. As
he reached the ground, the serpent neck twisted, and the head reached
back, stopping high up the side, near some of the large blood-vessels.
Here it made a dart, and the sharp teeth once more went to work. This
time, however, the aim was not to kill, but to feast.
Meanwhile, the other death-beast, thus left to “hoe her own row,” began
to revive and seem more active. Just then she raised her head, and with
a gathering under of her legs, dived forward, and dropped crashingly
upon her waiting antagonist.
But the three-horns had backed a little, and that with great quickness,
so that only her fore parts were borne down under the gigantic
assailant. Wrenching, twisting, and digging with her sturdy fore legs
she was quickly up again, immediately drove forward, and gave a fierce
dig upward into the broad, crowding breast. At least one of the horns
drove into the flesh, and when it was there the desperate beast wormed
and bored, and did not cease till the hole was big enough--as Sure-dart
believed--to let in a man’s head. At least, that wound did the business
for the death-beast. She hissed and sputtered furiously, and seemed,
reptile-like, very little troubled by the pain, but in not more than
half a minute she began to relax her scrambling and clawing, and
gradually grew inert and still.
The three-horns tried to clear her head and shoulders, but what with
the weight, and the previous wounds, and exhaustion, she could not, and
after a few more struggles she too sank down. The two bodies lay in a
quiet heap for a moment, but just as Sure-dart concluded that they were
both dead, the death-beast lifted her mighty tail and struck out, broke
the trunk of a small tree, and with a great heave rose up and drove
her teeth into the flank of the pinned-down foe. Then she dropped back
and stretched her long neck, which took on a coil, as if it had been
a snake. The three-horns did not move,--not even after she had but the
weight of the body to deal with, and Sure-dart could not doubt that she
also was dead.
The tremendous battle being over, the boy drew a long breath and got
into a more comfortable position. It was time to be thinking again
about his own affairs and what he should do.
The first thing, as it seemed evident, was to find out how far the
conquering death-beast was taken up with his eating. This might not be
easy, for though the creature was not very quick to see or to hear,
and though Sure-dart believed its sense of smell was also rather dull,
yet there was another difficulty, and that of a most important kind.
The creature was not relatively slow in its motions, and it was so
huge, and had such a reach, that, if the boy went down to scout and did
happen to catch its notice, it would be a hard piece of work to get
back to safety. In fact, only the difficulty that the monster would
have in working its great body quickly about amongst the trees and
undergrowth promised any mentionable chance at all. But something must
be done, and Sure-dart thought that it should be done soon, for there
was no telling what the monster would do when it was done with its
feast. It might go nosing about, and discover the watcher, and then it
was very likely to camp down for a siege.
Reasoning in this way, the boy worked cautiously along the branch
to the trunk of the tree, and from there, still going slowly and as
noiselessly as possible, he slipped into the next, and farther-off
tree. The monster’s back was all the while toward him, and was now
completely hidden by the tree-tops, and Sure-dart thought he would risk
the descent.
He made practically no noise in doing this, and at the bottom of
the tree stepped off in a tangle of parasite vines and outreaching
creepers. Soft-footed, like a cat after mice, the boy crept step by
step away, and at last reached the border of trees next the open
marsh-line. With one more pause, till he heard the death-beast chewing
and craunching into the carcass, he slipped boldly out, and when clear
shot away on the run.
It seemed to him, as his speed prevented him from following the noises
behind him clearly, that he heard a cracking through the border of
small trees and bushes, which would probably mean the rush of the
death-beast, but as he slacked a little, turning his head to catch the
sound, he could make out nothing. It was very likely his imagination,
or else it was the noise of a harmless small creature, or of the wind.
When he was fairly on the ridge he halted and looked back. There was no
creature of any kind in sight, and the only noises were the usual ones
of the concealed animal life, such as there had been before.
With the strain considerably relieved now, he kept on, and without any
sort of hindrance came to the place where he had been keeping guard.
Now, in the dusk of the small trees that bordered the ridge beyond, he
heard a new kind of noise, and abruptly stopped. It sounded like the
careful movement of some large animal.
But as he instinctively crouched, staring in the direction, another and
very different sound followed, for a human voice called out:
“It is you, is it, Sure-dart? We couldn’t tell at first.”
And Big-axe and three or four more of the warriors stepped out into
sight.
For a moment Sure-dart was so delighted that he could not speak. His
legs grew weak with the reaction. But as they came toward him, and
Big-axe asked where he had been, and why he had left his post, he made
a strong effort, and outwardly was as steady and self-possessed as
usual.
“I was forced to leave it,” he answered. “I will tell you about it.”
He did, and they heard the story with lively, though not demonstrative
interest. The experience, nevertheless, was uncommon, even for those
hazardous days. While they were listening, some others of the men
joined them, and, in fact, the whole camp, which was by this time
aroused, was pretty soon gathered around. Sure-dart learned that he
had not been at once missed, but that after a while the chief, who
was still sleeping with one eye open, awoke fully, and started out
to see how things were going. At first he thought that Sure-dart had
merely extended his picket work a little, but on pushing along for some
distance to see, he found that he was mistaken, and discovered that the
boy had disappeared altogether. Shortly afterwards he, in turn, was
missed from the camp, and then some others of the fighting men came to
look him up. This led to a discussion; and while all were puzzled, it
was rather thought that some wild creature had killed and carried off
the boy. It was evidently not human beings, or they would have followed
up their advantage by attacking the camp. As for any other theory, they
could not conceive of a sufficient motive to draw the boy voluntarily
from his post, and even if so, to keep him away. They finally decided
to station two sentinels in his place, and to send a small scouting
party as far as the end of the ridge. They were about to do this when
he appeared.
“Well,” said Big-axe, when it was at last all clear, “you have been
lucky, and so have we as well. A great many bad things had a chance
to happen. But now turn in, and get a good rest. We shall not go from
here for a while, or till we are sure that the Fishers have really gone
back; so you can sleep as long as you like. I will say further, though
I do not believe in much open praise, that you have done very well, and
that you have earned your place among the fighting men.”
Sure-dart had some trouble in hiding his pride and gratification at
this praise, but he knew what was expected of a full-ranked warrior,
and managed to keep it pretty well hidden. Such a glimmer of it as he
could not quite smother did not seem to displease the chief.
Sure-dart, with all present care off his mind, and his body, strong
and enduring as it was, thoroughly tired, finished out the night with
a sound sleep. Not only that, but he did not awake at once in the
morning when the others began to stir. The plan of staying where they
were till they felt sure that the Fishers had turned back was still
thought the only wise and prudent one; accordingly, they continued in
their camp that day and the following night. Even then Big-axe believed
that they should leave a rear guard, so as to check any crafty late
attack, and also to give the others time to prepare. This was done,
and the rear guard was told off, and left in the little fort. In case
they were attacked by a small body of the enemy they were to resist,
and afterwards were to push on and join the main force; but if they saw
they were to be attacked in force, they were to hasten on, send word
to the chief, and check the pursuers as much as they could. By using a
little cunning they could pick out places for a stand that would give
them an advantage.
The rear guard was made up of ten strong fighters, including the
chief’s son and Sure-dart. The boy was chosen partly for his fleetness
as a runner--for it might be necessary to send a speedy messenger to
the main body--and partly because of his coolness and resourcefulness.
Big-axe saw and fully appreciated these excellent qualities, little
as he had said about them. But at the last moment Hop-foot put in a
plea to join the company. He wanted to be with his friend Sure-dart,
and also (remember, he was but a boy) he secretly wanted to get rid
of helping along the small children and carrying a pack. True, this
pack was light, but to carry it was irksome, and then with it he could
not run about at will, and make inquisitive dashes after small wild
creatures.
At first Big-axe was inclined to refuse the request, but when Hop-foot,
with the cunning of some boys of the present day, looked hurt, and
said that he didn’t want to be treated always as a child, when he
was more than half-grown, the chief hesitated, and finally gave in.
It was time, he thought, that the boy were having a little helpful
experience, and this would be a light breaking in. Only one thing
slightly troubled him when he was otherwise ready to consent, and that
was lest the child should happen to offend Bull-head. The young man
was to command the party, and his father knew that he did not like
his half-brother,--perhaps in part from jealousy,--and that he was
surly and quick-tempered. Moreover, he had, in the past year or so,
been impatient of the authority of the chief, and seemed to want a
greater measure of independence. Under the simple and primitive rule
of the tribe, which made the head of a family the absolute ruler of
it,--subject only to the exigencies of great general matters, such as
war,--Bull-head was bound to obey his father. The only change would
come when the father died, or should happen to lose his reason, or when
Bull-head should marry and himself have children. Even then the father
would retain a certain amount of authority.
This kind of rule, or law, we call the patriarchal, and it has
generally been in force among primitive peoples, and was even, to a
certain degree, adopted by the enlightened Romans. But this objection,
which the chief kept entirely to himself, he finally concluded to
disregard; so he put it aside and told Hop-foot to run along.
The boy did not linger after he heard this, but dashed back to join
Sure-dart, who had followed along for a short distance--knowing what
Hop-foot was about--and was now waiting for him.
They joined the others of the command in the little islet fort, and
Hop-foot, as grave as any warrior, reported to Bull-head.
For a moment the harsh face of the young man darkened to a look more
forbidding still; but as Hop-foot bobbed his head, meaning, according
to the custom of the tribe, that he was putting himself fully under
the leader’s authority and would so continue till the purposes of the
present undertaking were accomplished--as he did this, the harsh look
of Bull-head slightly softened. At least, here was submission to his
rule, and evidently with the consent of the chief himself, and the
boy really looked obedient. The foolish and unreasonable pride of the
fellow was tickled, and as he had time to think about it, he thawed a
little more, till finally he told Hop-foot he would accept him, and to
consider himself a part of the command. This was a little more than the
orders of Big-axe seemed absolutely to require, and so was something of
a concession.
As soon as he was dismissed, Hop-foot went skipping off, and again
joined Sure-dart.
“Now it seems like old times,” he gleefully broke out. “We’ll have
a little fun, if there’s any to be had. Bull-head doesn’t seem very
cross, and I guess he won’t bother us. Father says that we are coming
to the part of the country where the scamperers are, and if we don’t
have to join the others right away, we may bag one. I don’t mean, you
know, to kill him, but catch him. Some of the men will help. Father saw
one caught just by heading him into a pool, where men could wade and
catch him as he swam. What do you think? I’d mightily like one for a
pet.”
“If we could catch one,” Sure-dart answered rather sceptically, “he
would be all right for a pet; but--well, we can’t tell. I never saw but
one alive, and that was a little fellow that father brought home. He
was hurt, and didn’t live long. A terror-bird had got a clip at him.
That is, just a touch, but it was enough.”
“Oh, I should suppose it would have been. Excuse me from having
anything to do with the terror-bird. Hearing about him is enough.”
“I never saw one alive,” said Sure-dart, “but from what I have heard, a
dead one would suit me better. When you think of a bird an axe-length
taller than a man, with a bill half as long as the axe-handle and twice
as sharp as the edge, and with clawed feet that together spread the
bigness of a man’s body--when you talk about him--well, the talking is
enough.”
“But still,” said Hop-foot, with a sturdy shake of the head, “I should
like to be one of a party to make a try at him. I know you would do
your share, too, if you had the chance. Only you always talk about such
things as if you were kind of scared.”
“I think I am learning wisdom,” said Sure-dart, with a smile.
He was beginning to feel that the responsibilities of his new
position--his place among the men--were belittling his former boyish
thoughts and feelings, and that thus he was growing away from Hop-foot.
Yet this was merely in that one thing. He liked the boy as much as ever.
They went on talking till Bull-head called Sure-dart and ordered him to
join one of the men in trying to kill or snare something for dinner.