THE LAKE-DWELLERS
Little fingers were fumbling about my face and there came the sound of
a prattling voice close beside me. I opened my eyes and looked into
the face of a child who was trying to arouse me, tugging valiantly at
my hair and chattering away in great delight. Next I heard a laugh and
turned upon my couch to see, on the other side of the hut, a woman,
brown-haired and blue-eyed, who was looking cheerfully upon the babe
and me, pausing only a moment to turn a cake browning before a fire
flaming brightly on a broad slab of stone. She was pleasant to look
upon, and I lay content, as my drowsiness passed away and my head
became more clear.
“You slept deeply,” she said. “The babe was trying to rouse you.”
I looked upon the child again and caught him in my arms and drew him
down toward me. He was a sturdy little one and struggled joyously, and
my heart went out toward him. The woman laughed again. I now knew who I
was, and where it was that I had awakened. The woman was my mate, Elka,
and the little child my son. There were none fairer nor finer than
these in the village above the waters of the lake which lay between the
great forest and the mountains.
I could hear the plashing of the slight waves underneath us as they
washed against the piles. There was the smell which comes from fish
in the depths, and through the open window space in the wall of the
dwelling came the fragrant odour of the growing and blooming things of
the land. It was very pleasant. I arose and went out upon the platform
which jutted forth over the water.
It was a pleasant scene. From where I stood a narrow pathway, made of
a series of two hewed planks laid on piles extending well above the
water, reached to the sloping shore nearly half an hundred yards away.
From thence the slope rose into a green valley which broadened into
almost a plain, and there were fenced fields almost as far as I could
see, though there were no dwellings. In the fields, though it was yet
early morning, I could see men and women moving, and there were animals
in some of them as well. On either side of the valley save at the far
end rose mountains, not very lofty and covered high up with verdure;
but turning and looking over the broad blue lake toward the southeast,
I could see great peaks the summits of which were clad in snow, warm as
it was in the valley and in the lake village. Further rose peaks still
higher, and to the southwest were mountains also snow-clad which the
rising sun was turning to a glory of pink and flashing yellow. It was
all wonderful and good for the eyes. It seemed to me there could be
no fairer place, but I did not linger to gaze long. Little, indeed, I
thought upon it, for I was hungry and turned into my cabin that I might
eat. What is better than eating?
The meal was all prepared for me, and it was good. There was a fish
cooked on the coals and the brown loaf my mate had made, and there were
nuts and little apples. What more could fisherman or hunter ask? I
ate, as did my mate, and as she ate she often tucked little mouthfuls
into the mouth of the eager babe. We were untroubled, for was not our
village at peace, and was not the wild game abundant, and did not the
fishing yield, and were not the crops flourishing as were the tamed
animals?
Truly we had reason to be glad, for there was not another of the
villages of the Lake-Dwellers in all the mountain and valley region as
growing and prosperous as ours, nor were there any of the land tribes
whom we greatly feared. There had been great trouble and bloodshed long
ago, but that was past and known of only in the stories of our fathers.
Our ways were now those of the peaceful, though, sometimes, there were
tragedies, yet, as the years passed, it seemed as if there could surely
be no tribe so safe as we who dwelt in the huts of the lake village.
The time when, as I have said, there was no peace at all, was when we
dwelt upon the land which came sloping from the west to the water’s
side and when very near to us to the north and east were wild tribes
who made repeated forays and who slew and burned. We had remained but
a small and timorous force when some one among us--none now could tell
whom, but he must have been most wise and crafty--thought of the plan
of making our dwellings on piles above the water, that we might be
able to defend ourselves from all invaders, be they any of the wicked
foraying tribes, or the marauding beasts, which at that time were
many and fierce and dangerous. But this had been long ago, and the
story of it was already becoming dim. To make our houses we, first,
from our boats, drove sharpened piles of oak, beech, fir or ash, or
sometimes yew, deep into the soft bottom of the lake, not very far
from shore, yet far enough for safety’s sake; though sometimes nearer
shore, so near that, when need came, a platform could be laid from
it to the land, there was built a greater house than those we lived
in, into which we could drive our animals when any danger threatened
them. Our living places we reached mostly by boat, though in times of
certain peace we had usually laid from the great platform a narrow
path of split planks on a row of piles upon which we might pass more
readily; these planks, like those of the slope from the ground to the
stables, could easily be taken away. Upon the great platform farthest
out in the lake our homes were built, very much alike. There were
four upright standards connected by timbers wooden-pinned at the top,
making the frame of a house a little longer than it was wide. Between
these standards were the walls of interwoven willow plastered with
a mortar of firmly adhesive mud. The roof was raised in the middle
that the rain might run off more easily. In one end were a door and a
window. At one end of the living-room was a big sandstone slab which
was the fireplace, the smoke from which escaped through the door and
window or through a hole in the roof; it did not annoy us, for all were
accustomed to it from childhood, besides which we had learned to use
only those woods for fire which burned most cleanly. In the middle of
the floor of each house was a trap door, through which could be let
down a small net for the fish which were so abundant in the lake and
upon which we depended much for food when the hunting chanced to be bad
and we had nothing else to eat with our bread of wheat or barley or
millet seed, which we cultivated upon the land. For beds we had the
skins of wild animals or of our own tamed cattle, or sheep or goats.
What finer homes could be? Surely we were a fortunate people.
We had ways of orderly living. All disputes were decided by three
chosen old men of the tribe, though not always would those who
quarrelled abide by their decision, and to each man of the tribe was
allotted his part in what was to be done for the general good. It
must needs be so, for our occupations were so different that it was
necessary that each should know how best to do his work. The potter--we
had many dishes and huge jars for the grain, and other things of burned
clay--could only do his best if always at his own sort of work; those
who looked after the cattle and flocks must best know how to handle
them and where were the richest and safest feeding places; those who
did the hunting and fishing, of whom I was the chief, must be strong of
arm and fleet of foot and wise in the habits of all wild things; and
those who cultivated the ground--the women and some of the men--must
know how to best prepare it for the seeding, digging it up with
sharpened sticks, and hauling over it the branches of trees and the
drags of stag’s horn, and how to do the harvesting. What a community we
were! There was none other like us! Long already had our people lived
above the lake, our numbers had increased, the huge platform stretched
its length far along and became wider as it became longer. Thus safe
and thus mingling together in such numbers we devised many new things
and so were becoming more capable and potent. What we were some time to
be who could foretell?
The work of the hunters was, of needs, the most adventurous and
arduous, and only the strong men and those who were most capable were
chosen for it. They must be in the forefront in time of conflict with
other tribes, should such time come, and we of the band were all
provided with coats and leggings of dried aurochs’ hide, which arrow or
even spear could hardly pierce with force sufficient to enter deeply
the body of the wearer. Far and wide we ranged, but not deeply, the
dark and almost endless forest region to the north and east, where were
dangerous beasts and still more dangerous and savage men of the tribes
who had once made frequent war upon us, in the time before we became
Lake-Dwellers, and so protected and too well-weaponed and trained and
strong for them. In our own village were more than a thousand people,
and in other lakes not far to the south and east were almost as many
more.
As for my own life in my hut, or outside on land or water, it was but
good. There were my mate and the child and the ardour of the chase. It
seemed to me at times that I, Scar, the hunter and fisherman, was the
most contented man among a contented people.
For food we never lacked, even when the hunting and fishing were not
good. There was the grain equally divided throughout the tribe and
stored in the great clay jars made by the potters, and the dried meat
and fish and also dried fruit of many kinds, for we had the wild apples
and wild pears and cherries and plums, and especially a little sour
crab-apple which we liked and which grew in great abundance. There were
also many berries and great quantities of beechnuts and acorns, in the
hills. Much game there was at times, but, most of all, I think, we
depended on the marsh cow, a wild and rather savage little brown beast
which came down in numbers to feed upon the marsh grass on the east
side of the lake, where we hunted it as craftily as we might. A great
adventure had I one day with my brave little mate, whom I had taught
to become, oftentimes, a great help to me in my hunting. I had rowed
across the lake with her far to the south, for I did not wish to land
near the marsh, and so came upon it from the forest beyond. Far out and
near the water I could see a single marsh cow feeding close to shore.
We slipped quietly from the wood and entered the grass and then crept
forward on our bellies as quietly and silently as any of the little
creatures living there, and, at last, came very near the cow, for the
wind was from it and it did not scent us. It had been a weary crawl.
The cow, very fortunately for us, had in feeding gone out upon a little
point extending into the lake. We thus had it at a disadvantage. I
rose slowly to my feet and drew my arrow to its head and shot, aiming
at the heart and feeling that I could at such short distance drive the
shaft almost through the comparatively small brown body. Unfortunately,
as I shot, the cow turned a little and the arrow buried itself in her
shoulder slantingly. With a great bellow the animal whirled about, and
I thought that it would charge, but suddenly it changed its mind and
plunged into the water, for the marsh cattle swam almost as easily
as did the beaver, of which there were thousands, the skins of which
furnished us warm clothing. I leaped forward and shot again as the cow
swam, but only put an arrow in its rump. Then there swished by me my
little mate, carrying in her mouth crosswise a short rod she had seized
from the ground; she curved forward into the water as gracefully and
swiftly as any of the fish-hunting creatures which harboured in the
marsh.
Then followed some great swimming! The cow struck out toward the
southward, seeking to reach another point of land where it might
attain the forest again, but my mate was beside and ahead of it in
scarce a moment, belabouring it over the head with the stick she bore,
cudgelling it most valiantly and recklessly. The cow, still swimming,
and bellowing in rage, turned and charged, but could not catch that
elusive thing any more than could the beaver catch the otter. There
was a swirl and foam of waters and then came what made me roar aloud
as much in wonder as in glee. Elka had seized the marsh cow by the
tail and was still cudgelling away most valiantly and recklessly.
Furthermore, she was guiding the direction of the swimming beast! As it
sought to turn toward the shore, she would thwack it on the shore side
so furiously that, in desperation, it would turn the other way. Soon I
saw Elka’s aim--she was guiding the cow across the lake!
I ran my best until I reached the boat we had left far down the lake,
and rowed fiercely toward the two dark objects I could discern now a
long distance out. They were moving a little more slowly now, as well
they might, but were approaching the farther shore when I came up with
them. The cow was showing fatigue, though my mate was even frolicsome,
since she had not borne any labour, save in the steering. She had
brought her quarry home alive. She guided it to the shore, where I
speared it, ending its trouble, while from the outpouring throng on
the wide platform came a roar of astonishment at the exploit. Such a
mate had I! Well did she merit the soft furs I always brought her and
the necklaces of amber beads for which I traded with the sometimes
wandering bands of friendly people from the great sea to the north
they called the Baltic, wherein was the amber found. A necklace and an
armlet of amber were hers, and she had beads also of serpentine and of
the inside of brilliant shells, and many combs of yew-wood and of bone
and horn. There were none other like her!
And, most curiously, that same day came another happening of a far
different nature and one that made me almost believe that there might
be reason for the stone crescent in some of the huts, for surely Yak
and Mona without some power to bring good fortune to them would surely
have lost their one child, a babe which could scarcely walk.
Most of us could not understand it or believe it, but somehow there had
grown up a sort of what they called religion in the tribe, and a belief
that we could be helped in our undertakings and preserved from evil by
the aid of some great Being in the skies, and this Being was thought by
these worshippers to be the kindly moon which gave us light by night,
when otherwise we would have been more helpless. So, in the cabins of
those who held the faith, was kept as a charm a crescent made of stone
which was counted a sure aid and protection. Little faith had I in the
belief or the crescent, but, as I have said, what happened on this day
somewhat affected me the other way.
The babe was lying in the sunshine in the little fenced-off pen on the
platform, of the kind in which the very young children were placed
for safety’s sake, when it was seen by the great lammergeyer--the
lamb-killer--which was hovering in the sky far overhead, and the huge
bird dropped down upon it as it would fall upon a lamb in the hills. It
came with a roaring swoop, swept upward with the babe in its talons,
and sailed away with it above the lake, though flying somewhat lower
and more heavily than usual.
Then came the marvel! Fishing far out on the waters was Lars, the best
bowman of the tribe, save I, perhaps, but not so far that he did not
hear the shrieks of Mona. They could have been heard a long way, those
shrieks. And, by the merest chance, from hope of a shot at some water
fowl, Lars had his bow with him, lying ready strung by his side and an
arrow with it. He seized the bow and stood with arrow poised as the
great bird came winging its way directly toward him, the child dangling
below. He drew the arrow to the head and, as the bird came nearly over
him, he let go the shaft. There was certainly the chance that he might
kill the babe, but better such a death than to be torn to pieces by
the lammergeyer. Yet the arrow did not touch the child, though it slew
the devouring bird, passing fairly through its neck and bringing it
down shrieking and fluttering and tossing to the water. Lars lifted out
both babe and bird, the child with hardly a scratch upon it, the bird’s
talons having clutched it where was its thick and protecting little
breechclout. It was good to look upon the joy of Mona when she had her
babe in her arms again. It was good, also, that Lars had killed the
lammergeyer! Long had it circled in the sky above us, seeking a chance
to descend upon and rob us of our lambs. And this was what made it seem
to me that, mayhap, there might be something to the stone crescent and
the worship of the moon. Surely Yak and Mona had been strangely helped.
Not all the time were we people of the Lake-Dwellers devoted to our
labours, because there was no need, and because it was good to play
at times and there was the call of man to woman and of woman to man.
There was an open space left on the great platform near the centre
of all the huts, and there the youth and many of the older ones met
nightly for better acquaintance or frolic or merry chatting together.
There were certain sports and there was dancing to the sounds of little
skin-headed drums and of stretched strings which twanged agreeably.
Sometimes there were feasts and festivals as well, when old and young
assembled, and then men talked of the catch or the chase or of the
tribe’s affairs, and the women of what might be in their minds or
hearts. There was much proud showing of ornaments--though of none to
equal those of my Elka--and there was mating, and it was for the good
of all that we had this meeting place.
Yet it must not be said of us Lake-Dwellers that we never had anything
to disturb us. The wild regions about us held too much of menace for
that. The rude tribes to the east had not threatened us for years now,
and with those on the northern sea we were on good terms, but there
were others, outlanders and outlaws, whose lurking presence we must
guard against at all times. They were bold and cruel and ruthless. It
was not safe for the women to go far afield alone, and our flocks and
herds must not be without guardians. Even at the time of which I am
telling there had been a recent tragedy.
There had come up a great storm, one such as we rarely had upon the
lake, though lesser ones were frequent in our climate. It rose in the
afternoon, and continued into the night, the whole lake in a turmoil,
and the braced huts on the platform seeming hardly safe from the onrush
and pounding of the ravening waters. Toward morning, however, the storm
subsided, and the sun shone out brightly, and there rose smoke from all
the dwellings, save one, the home of Dill, a good fisherman and one of
my own group. There was a call to the inmates of the place, but there
came no answer, and the hut was entered to learn the reason for such
silence. There lay Dill and all his family, speared in the midst of
the storm, slain, as we well knew, by a band of the fierce wanderers.
The slain could not be brought to life, but there was something else
to do, for Dill had been my close friend and there was a trail which
must be followed. I gathered together as many as I could of my group of
hunters and fishermen, each wearing his armour of aurochs skin and each
carrying his bow and spear and axe and food for many days.
Though there were shrewd trackers among us, at first we could discover
no trace of the way in which the murderers had come or gone, because
the storm had destroyed all trail; but, circling far, we found it where
it became clear with the storm’s ending, and then, greatly aided by
the dogs we had taken with us, we followed and moved more swiftly and
earnestly than ever we had followed game less tremendous. We were like
the wolves which follow the stag, as relentless and as pitiless!
We knew that the outlaws did not much fear pursuit. The task had,
heretofore, seemed almost hopeless, because of the craftiness of the
bands, to say nothing of their desperate resistance in strongholds of
which they knew, or of their many secure hiding-places in the depths
of the forest. Now, it was different! One, at least, of these cruel,
marauding bands I was resolved should pay the penalty. This band must
die!
For a day and a night we followed the freshening trail and, early in
the morning, one whom I had sent ahead to creep along more softly than
we could together, discovered where they were. They had just risen from
sleep and were eating together in a little hollow in the very midst of
the dense forest. There were eleven of them, unsuspecting our nearness,
if, indeed, they had thought of pursuit at all, talking loudly and
planning, it may be, other baneful expeditions. We were twenty to the
eleven, and they were ours!
Silently as creeping wild-cats, we encircled the little hollow in which
they were eating, and then, with my yell, we leaped upon them. They
were as unprepared as they were unsuspecting. They were surrounded and
none could escape. It was a time of fierce delight for us. We speared
them howlingly, or brained them with our keen-edged stone axes. They
were very dead when we left them, first stripping them of their plunder
and their own belongings, not, as was first thought, to the wolves, but
in another manner. There protruded from a huge tree which stood beside
the hollow a straight extending limb which overhung it and was far
above the reach of beasts of prey. With much labour, two men climbed
the tree and crept out upon this limb, taking a rope of hide and many
shorter ones with them. They let the long rope down to us and we
fastened the bodies to it, one after another, and so they were hoisted
and hung with the shorter ropes, eleven savage brutes in a row, to
dangle long as a warning to other prowlers of what hazard faced those
who ventured to invade the region of the Lake-Dwellers!
Yet such grim occurrences as this were rare. We were peaceful and
prosperous, as I have told, increasing steadily in numbers. Because
there were assembled together so many, all in helpful comradeship with
each other, there came a greater knowingness and there was devised much
of what was new. The potters made finer jars and all sorts of earthen
vessels; the women contrived a way of weaving a sort of cloth from the
fibre of plants, though as yet they could not do it very well; the
hunters invented new and better snares, the flint chippers made more
effective weapons for them; our fields were better tilled, and our
little herds were better tended. It was the close companionship in such
numbers which led toward our greatness.
And so the full days passed. It was a little after summer and the
leaves in the forest were already turning slowly from green to brown or
brilliant red or yellow. It was on one of the brightest of the autumn
afternoons that I thought to go fishing with hook and line, taking my
bow along in the hope that I might find ducks or geese about the marsh,
for I had it in mind to fish near the farther shore. It was well that
I did so, as far as that day went.
Of all the animals we sought to capture or kill because of the richness
or beauty of their fur there was none to equal the otter. An otter skin
was deemed a greater prize than that of bear or wolf or lynx or beaver,
and he was counted fortunate who owned one. Very few of such skins
were ours, however, for so silent and elusive, so wary and crafty, and
swift either on or under the water was the otter, that it was hard to
trap or kill one of them. Not a fisherman or hunter in the tribe but
had hunted them with all his art, and not many had been successful,
though there existed and thrived numbers of them, great prizes, in
and about the shore. On the afternoon of which I tell I rowed to near
where the deep water shallowed into the vast marsh, in which were broad
pools connected with the lake by narrow streams of little depth. I was
sitting idly and motionless in the boat with my line in the water when,
suddenly, two tawny pointed noses followed by dark bodies rose to the
surface. I did not move so much as an eyelid. So motionless was I that
the creatures did not recognize me as a living object. It seemed to me
that I must be trembling visibly in my eagerness and vague hope, but I
did not stir.
The otters sported about in the water, chasing each other, diving
and racing, and all the time nearing the shore of the marsh and the
mouth of one of the little creeks of which I have spoken. At last they
were fairly in its shallows and uplifted themselves and looked about
them. They waited a moment and then, to my surprise, swam steadily up
the winding, narrow stream. I was astonished because, though these
fish-filled pools were among their favourite hunting-grounds at night,
they were never seen in them in the dangerous daylight. What had
induced these two to take the risk I cannot tell; it may be that they
felt well assured of safety after their survey with uplifted necks,
their eyes seeking in all directions, or, that they were unusually
hungry, but, whatever the cause of their unwonted action, it threw me
into wild excitement and gave me stronger hope. I might kill them both!
The pond toward which they were swimming was small and shallow, and I
could easily guard its entrance. I waited until a turn of the slender
stream hid them from sight and then rowed swiftly toward it.
There was a commotion and splashing in the little pond, which I saw
was not more than ten or twelve yards across, as I neared it after
abandoning my boat and creeping forward through the high marsh grass.
The otters were rioting there among the many fish of the smaller kind,
perch and the like, which had reached it from the lake and were now
at the mercy of their enemies. They were fairly mad in their seizing
and gorging. The fish could not escape, and the otters were making
a carnival of it. I raised my head by slow degrees and then a knee,
moving so invisibly that no change could be seen, and gradually
raised my bow with arrow upon string and drew it slowly back. One of
the otters, the female it proved, caught a fish close to the shore
and, with her forefeet upon the sands, raised her head high as she
swallowed it. I held the shaft head fair upon her body just behind the
shoulder--I could not miss so near a mark--and let it go. It struck
her just where I had aimed and passed through her, leaving but little
of its length in sight above its feathering. She screamed and snarled
in her pain and threshed wildly about in the water. I had one of the
prizes!
The other otter swam swiftly toward the narrow mouth of the creek, but
I leaped into it and barred his way, discharging an arrow at him as his
head appeared, but missing him in his lightning-like dart for safety.
Round and round he swam in his terror and perplexity, and then darted
to shore and made off through the marsh grass toward the lake. I shot
at him as he left the water and before he reached the high grass, but
struck him only in the ham, where the arrow stuck. Then I rushed wildly
after him. An otter can run with no little speed on land, but not so
swiftly as a man, and I was up with the fleeing animal in a moment,
striking fiercely at him with my bow. In his desperation he faced me
snarlingly, even leaping at me in his rage. The bow was useless against
him, but I saw a piece of driftwood at my feet and seized upon it and,
as he again sought to escape, I passed him once more and, as he faced
me, killed him with a single blow upon the head. I carried his body
to the shore of the pond and laid it beside that of his mate, which I
rescued from the water.
It seemed incredible! I had slain two magnificent otters in a single
day. When had such fortune ever before come to a Lake-Dweller? How
magnificent was the fur! How carefully and delicately should the skins
be tanned. What a glorious robe should my Elka wear! I carried the
astonishing spoil to my boat, shouting aloud unreasoningly the while,
and rowed with all my might for the great platform and my home.
What a reception I had! How amazed were all the people of the tribe
and how proud and happy was my mate. It was the greatest happening
in our lives since we had begun living in our hut together. Surely
such fortune deserved a celebration! We considered what it should be.
It must be a feast, and Nard and Lone, his mate, who were often our
companions and who lived in a hut near our own, should share it with us!
We had in the hut the hind quarter of a fallow deer I had lately killed
in a manner of which I was proud, for I had killed it in the open. I
had seen it from the nearby wood, but at first was hopeless of getting
within bowshot of it. Then an idea had come to me which I followed
quickly. The animal was standing knee deep in the lush, long grass of
the plain, and, seeking another open space not far behind me, I plucked
quantities of this grass and bound it all about me with the strings of
hide I always carried, the grass concealing even most of my head. Then,
crawling upon the ground, I crept into the open and advanced toward the
feeding deer. Looking however closely, one must have been sharp of eye
to detect me. There was none among the hunters of the tribe who could
move as softly and as silently, either afoot or crawling, as could I,
and this time I fairly outdid myself. Nearer I came to the deer until I
was but a few yards away, and then, as softly and slowly as I had later
with the first of the two otters, I rose to my knees and raised my bow
and drove the arrow to the very heart of the game. Somewhat did I boast
of that among my tribesmen.
The hind quarter of this fat beast should be the meat for our feast,
but, on an occasion so great, there must be other things. We must have
fish as well, to go with the wheaten cakes and the wild apples and
beechnuts, and I was resolved that it should be one of the great pike
which were abundant in the deeper water, but which we rarely caught in
the water about the village.
So in the afternoon of the day after the killing of the otters I
prepared for the fishing. I was in great spirits. As I neared the edge
of the platform where my boat was moored I passed old Fir, the oldest
man in the tribe, and a hale old man he was! His face was withered, but
his step was quick and firm and he still worked among the potters, one
of the best of them. He was always cheerful, delighting in his children
and grandchildren and a great-grandchild or two, as well. His presence
was an animating thing for us, and we respected him much and listened
to his advice, which was never unwise. As I spoke with him and looked
upon him, I said to myself that in my old age I would be another like
him! Surely I would live to be as old, for I, Scar, was the strongest
and most full of health of all our clan, the one most able to fend
off evil of any sort. Assuredly I would live as long as had this fine
veteran, who was near an hundred years of age.
I took my larger net into my boat and rowed out with it and anchored
it with a stone at the end of a rope of skin above a deep place in the
lake where I knew the pike were most abundant. I let down the net,
which was a pouch-like thing, baited in the centre and which would upon
the swift pulling of a cord of hide enclose whatever was close above
it. It was lined with many sharp barbed hooks, to assist the chance
of capture in the struggles of the fish to break away. I waited a
time for the bait fastened upon the hoop-net to attract the fish, and
then lifted the net sharply. It came only a little way; it had somehow
caught upon the bottom. I was enraged at the happening. Pull strongly
as I dared, I could not release the net. There was but one thing to
do: I must dive from the boat and free the thing, no feat for one who
could swim like a beaver. The day was very warm; I was impatient and
excited; I could dry happily, when I rose, in the sun, and so I dived
with my tough garb still upon me. Down to the net I went and learned
in a moment what had happened. There was some sort of narrow jagged
opening, reaching downward perhaps a yard in the rocky bottom, and
into this hole the net had fallen, catching and entangling itself
upon the spurlike protuberances which extended from the sides of the
little chasm. It appeared to be twisted, and impaled about and upon
two of these. I tugged and strained, but my efforts at its dislodgment
failed, while my breath was almost exhausted. I must go to the top for
air before I could do more. Then, as I made one last desperate attempt
before rising, my foot slipped with the effort and I slid downward
into the hole and into the anchored net itself! I was suffocating; I
strove to swim upward, but was held back; the strong sharp hooks had
caught in my clothing in a score of places, at which I plucked with the
fierceness of despair. Then I strived to tear away my skin garments,
but was already too weak for that. I could endure the strain upon my
lungs no longer. I opened my mouth gaspingly, and the water rushed in.
I was drowning!
I yet struggled for a moment or two, and then became quiescent, I know
not why. A thousand thoughts came to me. I had heard it said--and the
wise ones of the tribe said--that it had been so from the beginning,
that to the drowning always comes in an instant the memory of all
things of importance which may have happened in his lifetime. It was
so with me. How many things I had forgotten! I lived my life over
again in what must have been but a moment. Then came the present. I
thought of my immediate clan--ill could they afford the loss of Scar,
the hunter--I thought of the black sorrow of Elka. I thought of my
people and of the time when they would so increase that all men would
be lifted, because men had come together in a city--the first the world
had ever known! Of things such as these I thought. Then all became
dreamy and very pleasant.