“You came along so suddenly,” he said, “it gave me the jumps.” Then
he muttered, more to himself than to me, “Too much of this darned
cave-water! I must quit drinking it.”
I sat down near to the Caveman on a stone, taking care to place my
revolver carefully behind it. I don’t mind admitting that a loaded
revolver, especially as I get older, makes me nervous. I was afraid that
he might start fooling with it. One can’t be too careful.
As a way of opening conversation I picked up the Cave-man’s club.
“Say,” I said, “that’s a great club you have, eh? By gee! it’s heavy!”
“Look out!” said the Cave-man with a certain agitation in his voice as
he reached out and took the club from me. “Don’t fool with that club!
It’s loaded! You know you could easily drop the club on your toes, or on
mine. A man can’t be too careful with a loaded club.”
He rose as he said this and carried the club to the other side of the
cave, where he leant it against the wall. Now that he stood up and I
could examine him he no longer looked so big. In fact he was not big at
all. The effect of size must have come, I think, from the great wolfskin
that he wore. I have noticed the same thing in Grand Opera. I noticed,
too, for the first time that the cave we were in seemed fitted up, in a
rude sort of way, like a dwelling-room.
“This is a nice place you’ve got,” I said.
“Dandy, isn’t it?” he said, as he cast his eyes around. “_She_ fixed
it up. She’s got great taste. See that mud sideboard? That’s the real
thing, A-one mud! None of your cheap rock about that. We fetched that
mud for two miles to make that. And look at that wicker bucket. Isn’t
it great? Hardly leaks at all except through the sides, and perhaps
a little through the bottom. _She_ wove that. She’s a humdinger at
weaving.”
He was moving about as he spoke, showing me all his little belongings.
He reminded me for all the world of a man in a Harlem flat, showing a
visitor how convenient it all is. Somehow, too, the Cave-man had lost
all appearance of size. He looked, in fact, quite little, and when he
had pushed his long hair back from his forehead he seemed to wear that
same, worried, apologetic look that we all have. To a higher being, if
there is such, our little faces one and all appear, no doubt, pathetic.