I am in a warm part of the world where the sun is always vertical.
I should judge that I must be somewhere in the tropic of Capricorn.
Magnificent forests stretch away from the spot where I am lying, but
immediately before me is a grove of the wild date palm, while I myself
am luxuriating in the midst of gigantic grasses. I seem to be overcome
with deep drowsiness. Yet my mind is quick to such a degree that I am
able to contemplate an endless panorama that is unwinding before me.
My body is bare in the white sunlight, but my head is kept cool by the
lush green shade of the date palm. Let me watch that figure in the
panorama.
I observe that the figure is a male. He is seated at the trunk of a
tree on the edge of the forest. I set my eyes steadily upon him and
perceive that his jaw projects as it does in all brutes, his nose is
rudimentary, his hide is covered with silken hairs, his face partially
naked, and when he turns his back to me I can see that his buttocks
are callous. He is devouring fruit; but he is of a prying, inquisitive
nature and examines what he eats. His mate, overhead in the branches,
is likewise eating, and feeding their single offspring, but her meal
is upon cocoanuts, which she throws at other of her kind who draw near
to their tree.
When lo! of a sudden, I see the male figure try to raise himself off
all fours. He appears to find it most difficult to stand erect for more
than a moment, for his head is thrown forward, and he stands awkwardly
upon the sides of his two rear feet. He keeps, trying, trying, and
each time that I see him erect himself, he takes a look afar off,
and gradually from these attempts, lo and behold! his forehead rises
slowly, his jaw is receding, his eye develops, he can see his enemy at
a distance!
Who is this enemy? I scan the outer skirts of the forest and perceive
another male figure, fashioned like himself. Only this one approaches
on all fours, whereas his upright brother has already seen him and is
striving to prepare for his attack. I can see his front claws itch and
quiver with indecision, when, ha! one claw spreads out from the others
and the thumb is born! Now he is thinking. An idea is germinating!
His enemy is creeping slowly upon him, imagining himself unseen,
little knowing of his disadvantage of being upon all fours. With a
hideous yell he springs into view. But our upright brother is calmly
chattering. He has used that thumb--he has grasped a club! The enemy
is awe-stricken at that erect figure, which drives him to cover and
strikes him dead.
The mate in the tree screams with exultation, the offspring leaps to
her bosom, and both descend to embrace their upright spouse and father
in a perfect whirl of chattering. Inarticulate chattering, most unlike
speech, but still chattering--for Love was born.
And those other enemies, those tremendous enemies, various and of a
multitude of shapes, some as big as a mastodon--think of it!--he can
see them away in the distance in season to escape. He pats himself with
a sense of relief. He even kisses his wife.
Scenes shift before me; and there is a persistent blank in the
panorama. This tapestry of the fated past, vast and unknown, winds and
unwinds before me. Yet chaos on the screen is becoming more and more
definite in outline. Yes, praise be given, there is the figure, the
same upright figure, before me again. He is sitting on a rocky beach,
bordering the bank of a gurgling river. His club is beside him. It
is evidently late in the autumn, for the rock pile is covered with
dried leaves. A little animal that he has killed with his club, is
lying beside him. That off-member, the thumb, has grown strong on both
hands, and he is grabbing the smaller boulders with intense delight
and clashing them together. What? A spark flew to the elemental tinder
and the dead leaves are all ablaze. The figure became so frightened at
this sight and so insane in his actions that he fell into the river.
But by the time he scrambled ashore, the blaze had spent its force,
and he noticed that where he shook himself, the water extinguished the
fire. Gracious! What a relief to be without those biting colors once
more. What _did_ cause that trouble? He sits upon his haunches and
ponders until his mind hurts. He is hungry. Where is the animal that he
killed? He looks over at the rock pile with trepidation. Yes, there is
the little carcass, but its fur is gone! He can hardly recognize it.
He summons up courage and snatches it. But it hurts so that he lets it
fall. He sucks his thumb in pain. The new smell! The new taste! Those
biting colors made that rich odor and delicious flavor. How did he make
them? He will make them again! He wants some more cooked meat.
Here the panorama ceased; and I fell inadvertently into a light sleep.
I know not for how long I remained in slumber, but I was abruptly
aroused by cries of “Fire! Fire!” That did not seem to me strange, as
my room is directly opposite an engine house. I rushed to my windows.
I could hear the telephone and the telegraph ring and click in the
engine house. Gong! Gong! The fire tower sounded. Gong! Gong! And there
was the hitching up of the fire patrol.
I could not rid myself of the remembrance of the figure, and my mental
eye kept looking about for him. Gong! Gong! There was the clatter of
the horses’ hoofs. Gong! Gong! The entire fire company sprang through
its doors. Gong! Gong!
“There he is!” I cried to myself, tingling in every hair of my head,
“there he is!”
It was the flash of the figure that I saw, driving horses breakneck, to
save his fellow men.