PEACE ON LAND AND LAKE
He could make out nothing strange at first, for only the spear-teeth
were in sight, but just a few yards off a hump of water was going away
in a suspicious undulation. He turned his head, and looked the other
way. There was no hump of disturbed water there, but there was the
thing that had made it.
A huge, long, bony snout, that was greatly like the crocodile’s of
to-day, was poking out of the water, and a broad flipper, somewhat like
a seal’s, but vastly larger, was fanning out on the surface of the
water. Back more than fifty feet, the tip of a lizard-like tail trailed
along in sight. It was the “great killer,” such a creature as had more
than once upset boats, and whose doings afterwards made a very short
story.
The boy’s fingers clenched hard on two little brackets, or cleats,
that were designed to support a thwart. The movement was perhaps
instinctive, though it might have been from the doing the right thing
that had come from long training. At least, he could now stick better
to the boat.
He never knew how long it was after this before the next thing
happened. It was long enough to make his fingers stiff and weak. What
did happen was as sudden and nerve-shaking as most of the other things
during this eventful night. It came while he was staring at the great
fish-reptile that now was swinging lazily around on another tack. The
small fish had gone.
Up from the smooth water came a snake-like head, softly, and as if
pushed from some substantial base below. The head was not much bigger
than a python’s of to-day, but it was longer and slimmer. A dusky and
scaled neck, still with a silent and frictionless motion, rose steadily
after the head, till at last that head looked down upon the water from
a height of more than a long spear-length!
But the neck had finally come to an end, and now it was seen to spring
from a great, broad-backed mass, that was somewhat like the body of an
enormous, shell-less turtle. Yet the body, for size, might better be
compared to an elephant’s.
The boy sat silent, and not more shaken than he was before. Rather
he was less so, for now he had a dim, new hope. He wanted whatever
might be in it to come soon, however, for he would not have that long,
inquisitive neck lifted beside the boat, and that deadly head hang in
air over him.
The first investigating monster turns farther around, and now he sees
the other. He lifts his great head a little, drops it rather quickly,
and straightens out his vast length. Then, with his head, as we say
of vessels’ decks, barely awash, he gets in motion, and with a smooth
speed that he has not before shown makes straight at the fish-snake.
As he comes nearer the long neck of the fish-snake drops almost level
with the water, and the thin jaws open. The moonlight strikes on a
mouthful of long, strong teeth such as no true snake ever had. The
crocodile head suddenly goes under and out of sight, and the mighty
tail throws flirts of water and spray into the air. He is for the under
hold in that titanic wrestle.
The poor boy had all he could do to keep in the boat, and to steady it
on its keel, and he lost the run of the fight. He had to do almost the
work of a performer on a tight rope. Of course the commotion had raised
a little sea, in the midst of which his unsteered craft was pitching
and rolling. All he knew with certainty was that the two monsters were
in some sort of death grapple, and that they were tearing at each
other when their heads were under water, and hissing like great snakes
whenever their heads came out.
The boat continued to dip and roll, and great splashes of water came
aboard, and still the duel went on. Sure-dart happened to be now, as
the dugout rode partly around, almost back to the fighters. Just here
he heard a great crunching noise, something beat the water, as a mighty
flail might, and the hissing stopped.
The boat began to ride more steadily. He looked over his shoulder. The
fish-snake was in two parts,--the neck and head (which seemed now,
indeed, to make an independent snake), and the great, cushion-like
body. Into this body the victor was fiercely and hungrily tearing. The
blood was running out in streams, and the flesh, as the mighty jaws
ripped and rent, showed white in the moonlight.
The boat steadied yet more. Sure-dart could see everything now.
And then--all at once there was nothing more to see. The waves around
began to dimple, hundreds of bulldog heads and humped backs rolled up
in sight, and victor and vanquished broke into mere slabs and strips of
bleeding flesh!
Then the legion pulled what was left of the two bodies wholly under;
they fairly covered them with snapping and gobbling heads.
A breeze sprang up, blowing sharply in the boy’s face. It was nearly
from the old quarter, but stronger than it had been before. The
boat began to get headway, though yawing from lack of steering. The
battle-ground was already some little way behind.
Minutes passed, and still other minutes. The boat was now far out in
the lake. No other monsters had thus far appeared. In spite of all, the
boy was again growing drowsy. He shook off the feeling, but it came
back. On the boat swung and dipped, the wind luckily keeping down to
its moderate pitch, and showing no signs of increasing.
Something jarred on the boy’s senses. After all, he was losing himself
again. The boat had given a new sort of jerk. He started up. The wind
was changing, and beginning to come from the southwest. What if it got
around still more, until--? He was wide awake enough now. He wet his
fingers and held them up, noting which was the cold side.
Little by little the wind worked its way to the north. It might bring
in a gale, but he would take chances of that. The blessed truth was
he was going back toward the starting point. If his friends had won,
as he had come to believe, he would be safe; and if they had lost he
would find it out soon enough, and take to the water. With the wind in
his favor, he was good for a short swim, and he would take the chances
of fish enemies. On the main shore, and in the wilderness, he would be
in a bad way, certainly, but better off than his poor friends at the
caves, who would be sure to fall into the hands of the cruel victors.
For himself, he was almost a child of nature, and he knew all the ways
of the wilderness. He might manage to get along, and perhaps ultimately
work his way back to the less dangerous region of the hills. At any
rate, he hastily thought of these things, as his boat blew along.
A few minutes later he had a bit of good luck. A piece of a small
tree-branch floated near him; he picked it up, and made a sort of
steering paddle out of it.
And now, after all this long time and mighty strain, he neared the old
battle-ground. What was he to see? What find out? The moon was going to
its decline now, but there was still light enough to show the point,
and the nearing things upon it. At last he could dimly make out the
water-front.
The boats were again inshore, but now mainly pulled up on the beach.
All at once the water about him began to popple again, and some unknown
things broke water near him. He peered at them and saw that they were
spear-teeth. And they were very, very busy. They were tearing in pieces
and fighting over what was left to show that a battle had been there.
Yet a little nearer. Ah, there was a man! He was standing on the beach,
and his figure came out against the light-colored up-slope of the
sands. Was he friend or foe? How was Sure-dart to find out? It would
not do to wait very much longer, although, with the steering-stick,
there was a little more control of the boat. On the other hand, here
were the spear-teeth.
Desperately, and setting his lips together, the boy kept on. Ah, there
were voices! Some were calling out commands, and others seemed to be
wailing, as in despair.
A little nearer yet. One voice rises above the others. It is in a shout
of command, and is as if spoken to a person or persons at a little
distance. Sure-dart, forgetting everything, jumps to his feet. He
cannot be mistaken. The voice is the deep, far-reaching one of Big-axe!
He takes all chances. He tries to help the wind by paddling. He draws
in at last to the beach.
The man hails him, _and the tongue is that of the Rock-people_.
It is enough. The boat grounds on the beach. Old Stone-arm, almost
stunned with wonder, helps him ashore. He is not weak now, though, but
only stiff.
“We beat them, then?” he finds himself saying. It sounds almost strange
to hear his own voice.
“Yes, we beat them, but we had a pretty hard time. Toward the last
we fell into a streak of luck, for a school of spear-teeth came
in, called, I suppose, by the blood that was flowing, and began to
make grabs at them. They couldn’t stand that, and made for shore.
They yelled loud enough to be heard half-way across the lake.” The
remembrance made the old man smile.
“I guess I heard them,” Sure-dart said, “but I didn’t know what to make
of the noise. I hoped, though, it meant something good for us. But how
about our losses? How did Big-axe come out? I left him fighting with
Long-spear.”
“Big-axe held Long-spear under till he was quiet, and rather full of
water,” the old man said grimly. “He will never bother us any more. As
for our losses,” he went on, “four of the grown men were killed, and
one severely wounded. Three of the boys were killed.”
“That is a heavy loss,” said Sure-dart, sadly.
“But not quite so big as theirs,” said Stone-arm, with exultant
fierceness. “Every one of their fighting men was either killed or
disabled. But they won’t have so bad a finish as we should have had if
they had whipped us,” he went on, “for we have not killed any since
the fight was over, and are not going to kill any. We shall take what
are left alive back with us, and adopt them into the tribe. That is
Big-axe’s idea.”
“What became of Strong-back?” Sure-dart next asked.
“We found out that he had died some time ago,” answered Stone-arm, “and
that was why the Islanders had doubled up with the Fishers. They had
lost their chief, and some of their best men, and concluded to move
the rest of the tribe down here. Besides, it seems the lake is a good
deal worse for fishing up there, on account of the water-monsters.”
“We are to go back soon, I suppose?” asked Sure-dart.
“Yes,” said Stone-arm. “We have decided to go by water, as it will be
easier. We can start by day, and with such a big party it will probably
be safe enough.”
By this time they were coming into the camp, and Sure-dart had stopped
asking questions, and was using his eyes.
* * * * *
Again the mists of one of those ancient mornings are rising from the
little cove. Once more Sure-dart and Hop-foot are looking down on the
lake from the hill-side, but this time with no strain of worriment in
their faces. They have not come up here to spy out something; they have
merely come out for a stroll.
Indeed, there are no monsters now lurking beyond the crest, and there
have been none for these five years. Their day is past, and they have
shrunk back into the remote wilds, to finish there what remains to them
of life on the earth. That will not now be long. There are coming new
times and new conditions.
Neither is it now a common sight from here to note the snake-necked
fish-lizard, or even the giant but harmless “great stalker.” These,
too, have gone from the neighborhood of the destined conquerors of all
the earth.
But there are some new sights, to take the place of the vanished ones.
The strangest is a fire on the beach, and fish roasting on spits over
it. Yes, the people have scraped acquaintance with fire at last, and
it has begun its long but rather treacherous service as the slave of
man. The discovery was an accident; it grew out of the burning of a
tree by lightning, and the experiment with some of the coals that were
left in cooking a fish. Since that at least one fire has been kept
alive. Sometime the art of kindling fires will be added to the other
discoveries.
And these two young heroes that are talking together have likewise had
their share of change. Ten years have brought them from boys up to men.
They have taken their places now as regular warriors of the tribe; and
it is understood that when Big-axe gives up the reins of chieftainship
the tried Sure-dart will take them. The sturdy Scar-face is still
living; she and One-ear, now grown to be a large boy, live with
Sure-dart in one of the best caves. Stone-arm, though no longer fit
for war, is still in good health, and likes to stand around one of the
great beach fires in the rare times when the weather is chilly (which
it is, however, oftener than it used to be), and fight over again his
old battles.
Best of all, there are few real battles to fight, and for the present,
at least, none at all with human foes. When the Rock-people conquered
the Fishers and the Islanders, they established peace in all this
region of the lake. Their remote descendants were to have wars on
their hands, and were to have their brute foes besides, though of
another and very different kind. Perhaps we may yet take up their
history, and see what their struggles, triumphs, and defeats were.
But in the days of the monsters there are left in the little
cave-village peace and contentment, as well as the safety and quiet for
which they had so long hoped and so bravely struggled.
THE END
Transcriber’s Note:
Obvious errors in spelling, hyphenation and punctuation have been
silently corrected in this version, but minor inconsistencies and
archaic forms have been retained as printed. Some mid-paragraph
illustrations have been moved to the nearest paragraph break.