XI

After several days’ journey, the three friends entered a broad valley

bordered by low hills and gently rolling plains. This valley was too

shallow to cause Pic and his comrades any serious concern. A clear view

of the country was presented on all sides. No cliffs gave opportunity

for hidden enemies to hurl down rocks or darts. No forests confronted

them which might conceal cunningly arranged deadfalls or other traps.

The slopes were bare except for coarse grass, sedge and rank growth.

The Men of Kent seemed content that the prey for which they had striven

so long and determinedly, should escape them at last. When the trio

fled southward from the Thames Valley, they left their persecutors

behind—presumably, for not a trace of them could be seen.

Pic felt no little surprise that the retreat of himself and companions

was thus undisputed; but Hairi and Wulli showed no inclination to

worry, so the matter passed from his thoughts. His fears subsided, his

suspicions were lulled and he permitted himself a welcome feeling of

security. All things pointed to an uninterrupted journey south and

godspeed.

In the sheltered valley, the Mammoth and Rhinoceros found sufficient

fodder to satisfy their wants. But grazing operations consumed much time.

They reduced an otherwise rapid flight to a slow and orderly retreat.

However, this mattered little. No unusual dangers had appeared and

the three friends no longer considered themselves as hunted creatures

fleeing through a hostile country. Even while passing through the Kentish

Downs, they paid little attention to the narrowing, deepening valley

and the mountains rising above them on both sides. Not until they found

themselves in a narrow defile, did any one of the three realize that the

broad valley had gradually resolved itself into a deep gorge flanked by

almost perpendicular walls. This gorge terminated in a cleft or pass,

beyond which spread a vast, gently-rolling plain—the fertile lowlands

of the Kentish Weald. The pass was the sole means of reaching the open

country unless the trio saw fit to retrace their steps and climb the

valley slopes for a wide detour eastward. This latter course seemed a

needless waste of time and effort considering the end to be attained. The

straightest and shortest route was by all odds the best. It lay before

them, so they kept on.

The Mammoth and Rhinoceros began to feel cramped for space to maneuver

their big bodies. No longer did they graze their way along. They appeared

more interested in the gorge itself than the food it contained. Their

attention became devoted to scenery entirely—to the steep, forbidding

walls which hemmed them in; the rock-strewn heights above their heads and

the narrow cleft in front.

As they approached this latter, all three instinctively slowed up; just

why Pic could only imagine. What an ideal spot for—yes, for what? A wave

of apprehension suddenly swept over him. No chill wind blew down the

gorge; but his hands and feet were become quite cold. He stole a furtive

glance at his two friends. Hairi was stamping his fore-feet, flapping his

big ears and otherwise acting strangely. Wulli was turning his head from

side to side, testing the air with deep, noisy sniffs.

“This place seems to be growing too small for us,” said Pic, trying to

appear calm; “Hairi is so big, he may never get through that hole.” He

grinned a sickly grin that flashed up and died down again before the

words were out of his mouth.

“It smells queer too,—this place does,” was Wulli’s disquieting response.

“I wish we were somewhere else. Don’t you smell anything?” he suddenly

asked his giant partner.

Hairi raised his trunk and made a thorough examination. His nose-tip

swept the heights on both sides and ahead of him, like the nozzle of a

hose. He lowered it at last, looked at Wulli and nodded gravely. Both

animals came to a sudden halt.

“Why do you stop?” Pic inquired in studied surprise. “We must go on.”

“Such strange odors,” the Mammoth replied. “The smell of men——”

“Men?” Pic felt as though ants were crawling up his back.

“Oomp! Yes—men,” Hairi replied. “How strange; I thought we had left them

far behind.”

“There may be a few, hidden in a cave somewhere among the rocks,” said

Pic with a forced smile. “Have no fear.”

“A few? No, many,” snorted the Mammoth. “I smell them everywhere; on both

sides and before us. The air is rank with their foul odor.”

“It is; he says right,” Wulli added. “The Trog-men are all about us. I

smell nothing else.”

Cold sweat dampened Pic’s forehead. The moment called for a keen eye and

clear head. He stepped in the lead of the party and looked about him.

In his friends’ powers of smell and hearing he had unbounded faith. He

mistrusted the sharpness of their eyes but considered their ears and

noses infallible. He now watched the Mammoth who had raised his trunk a

second time and was pointing it to the heights on his right. The Ape Boy

looked in that direction. He dimly saw dark faces peering from behind the

rocks which lay strewn along the high ground back from the edge of the

gorge. Hairi’s trunk swung to the left;—more rocks and more faces peering

down. Pic glanced behind him in dismay. What he saw, made his heart sink.

A wall of smoke filled the valley from height to height, greedily licked

up the dry grass and sedge. Bright tongues of flame flashed from beneath.

The meadows were afire.

Pic felt like a rat caught in a trap. The blazing meadows cut off all

retreat. His enemies held the heights on both sides; but he could see

none of them in the gorge itself; none in the pass. The trio must either

go forward or retrace their steps through the wall of smoke and fire.

The latter choice gave little hope. Neither the Mammoth nor Rhinoceros

would face the things they most dreaded—red tongues and white, curling

clouds. One glimpse of the terror behind them, and they would break loose

in a wild stampede. The Ape Boy looked wildly about him. Advance or

retreat—which? He must act quickly, for his friends were becoming more

and more alarmed.

Thus far the two animals suspected nothing of the danger in their rear.

They stood cowering with fear of the threatening human odors and the

rocks which hemmed them in. In a moment, their thoughts would turn to

the valley behind; their only chance of escape; and then—

“All is clear ahead,” Pic whispered. “There lies our safety. I can

see through the cleft to where green pastures await us. Our foes lie

concealed far back upon the heights. They must come much closer if they

would stone and spear us. Move on and through before they cut us off.”

Thus encouraged, Hairi and Wulli set their great bodies in motion. Pic

led the way, fully expecting to see a rush of dark figures hurrying

to intercept them. But nothing of the sort occurred. Heads and faces

appeared in plenty from behind every rock,—but no bodies. No hoarse cries

arose amid a rush of hurrying feet. The heads craned eagerly forward and

the faces stared down at the advancing trio; but they did nothing more

and made no sound. The stillness of death was in the air. What did it all

mean?

Pic was sorely perplexed. The strange inaction of his enemies was more

terrifying than the din of battle. Perhaps he but led his friends into

some hidden death-trap. His eyes searched the pass ahead,—the jagged

walls, then the ground strewn with tree branches, fresh dirt and grass;

and as he looked, his heart leaped almost to his throat.

“Hold!” he muttered in a low, fearful voice. “Not another step or we are

lost.”

At that moment, the Mammoth turned his head to seek the meaning of a new

and terrifying odor coming from behind. He saw a wall of red tongues and

white curling clouds sweeping down upon him.

“Aree, owk, owk; run, run!” he screamed in a frenzy of fear. He and the

Rhinoceros were about to dash forward in a wild stampede, when Pic sprang

in front of him with ax upraised; his face threatening and terrible to

see.

“Stand back!” he yelled. “For your lives stand back;” and the flat of

his blade smote the uplifted trunk a resounding blow such as the great

Mammoth had never known. Hairi reared back amazed. The blow had struck

his most sensitive spot; but the insult delivered by a mere pygmy rankled

more deeply than an open wound. With a scream of rage, he raised a

ponderous fore-limb to crush the author of such an indignity, when the

Ape Boy pointed to the ground almost beneath his feet.

“See! The pit; it is there.”

The Mammoth saw and shrank back in an agony of dread. The Rhinoceros

cowered by his side. Both were terrified, stunned by this new horror.

[Illustration: “STAND BACK! FOR YOUR LIVES, STAND BACK!”]

Partly screened by branches, dirt and grass, the mouth of a great pit

yawned in the path. A few more steps and the whole party would have

trodden through its flimsy covering and disappeared into the dark

cavity below. Pic stepped to the edge and peered down. The fear of death

suddenly gripped his heart. He drew back trembling and afraid.

The pit was broad but the cleft was broader and he was small; so small

that he might crawl along one side and get safely by. But the Mammoth

and Rhinoceros must be left behind. They were huge, wonderful animals;

his friends were—enough food for a hundred mouths. Surely the Men of

Kent would be content with such a golden harvest and permit the lone Ape

Boy to escape. But his companions might escape too, something within

him said. Space remained between wall and pit for even a giant like the

Mammoth to squeeze safely past; but, after all, Hairi was too frightened

to think of such a thing and just when he most needed a clear head to

guide him.

Loud shouts sounded upon the heights. Seeing that their plot was

discovered, the Men of Kent were clambering down at top speed to reach

positions commanding the outlet of the pass and thus close this last

avenue of escape. Pic heard the shouts and knew that he must act quickly.

There was yet time. He glided along one side of the pit, then stopped and

looked back.

The Mammoth and Rhinoceros stood watching him, stupefied, panic-stricken

by the terrors about them. They were his friends; his only friends and

they had shared with him their joys and sorrows. Once they had saved

him from Grun Waugh’s terrible wrath; then in a cave, now his father’s

tomb. He remembered and felt ashamed and his heart beat strong, for the

warrior’s courage now came upon him and his fear of death was passed. He

pointed to the space between pit and rock-wall and beckoned the two great

brutes to follow him.

“Come,” he cried, “the earth is firm here. Agh, dear friends; do come

and quickly”; but they held back trembling. While he urged and they

hesitated, the Men of Kent came racing along the heights and took up

positions above the mouth of the pass. In a few moments, the rocks

swarmed with human beings with stones and darts held ready waiting for

the trio to emerge. The gorge echoed back their exultant yells; from

behind, came the roar of flames and crackling brush. Hairi and Wulli

stared helplessly at Pic. The latter came dashing back.

“Quick!” he cried. “Raise your foreleg—your trunk. Help me to climb up.”

Even in his terror, Hairi remembered. He raised his foreleg and assisted

the Ape Boy to climb astride his neck.

“Forward,” his rider sternly commanded. “And hug the wall. Go on, I tell

you; there is room to pass”; but the Mammoth stood still, quivering in

every muscle—paralyzed with fear.

Pic raised his ax—the blade of Ach Eul. “Quick; do as I say or I will

kill you,” he snarled. “Move on.”

Still trembling from head-peak to toe, the Mammoth obeyed and moved

forward. He neared the side of the pit, cautiously testing each bit

of ground with his foot and crowding hard against the rock-wall as he

advanced. The Rhinoceros followed closely on his partner’s heels. He

dared not look down for fear another glimpse of the dark hole might

shatter his already over-balanced nerves and cause him to fall in. With a

bound, the Mammoth cleared the last bit of treacherous footing and stood

before the outlet of the pass with the Rhinoceros pressed closely to his

side. Above their heads concealed from sight by the steep rock-walls,

awaited the Men of Kent brandishing their darts and stones.

“Forward,” cried Pic. “And move slowly. When we go through that opening,

do not look around or try to run. If you do, you die,” and he held his ax

on high so that the Mammoth might see and remember.

Hairi had ceased to tremble now. He was calmed, awed by his rider’s

commanding presence. His nerves reacted. He raised his head and strode

boldly to the mouth of the pass. Above swarmed his enemies awaiting his

appearance—the signal for attack; then suddenly all stood transfixed with

amazement at an unearthly sight sufficient to terrify the boldest.

From the mouth of the cleft, a huge shaggy head with long trunk and

curling tusks slowly emerged. It was surmounted by the figure of a man

bearing an upraised ax. A great hairy body followed with a smaller one

pressed closely to its side. But the awe-struck Men of Kent had neither

eyes nor thoughts for the Ape Boy, the Mammoth and Woolly Rhinoceros. All

remembrance of them had vanished at sight of the wonderful head and its

human rider. Every voice was hushed; every hand grasping dart or stone

remained upraised and rigid as the trio emerged into the open. The shower

of missiles threatened but did not fall as the Mammoth—now under complete

control—swept majestically on with slow and measured tread. With no

more thought of the wrath they held ready to launch upon their intended

victims, the Men of Kent stood like statues, gazing in breathless wonder

upon the Man Mammoth—sun-god and ruler of the sky. Rooted to the heights

and motionless like the shrubs about them, they watched the receding

figures grow smaller and smaller and finally disappear amid the rolling

plains and woodlands of the Kentish Weald.