It did not take Bolo long to get back to the Valley of Caves. The cave
where he lived was near the river, not far from the place where he and
Fisher had caught their dinner. When he came in sight of it he slid
down out of the trees and ran quickly across the open space.
“The bear! the bear!” he cried.
His mother, whose name was Stitcher, was making a wolf-skin coat for
One Eye, his father. She was sitting on the ground in front of the
cave. She was sewing with a long, slender bone needle, and the thread
she used was made of reindeer sinew.
When she heard Bolo shouting she jumped up quickly and ran to catch up
little Antelope, her baby, who was playing near by. Then she ran for
the cave.
“The bear! the bear!” screamed Bolo over and over. He was out of breath
from running, and that was all he could say.
Stitcher at once began to throw dry wood on the fire just inside the
cave. She knew that no bear would dare to enter as long as she kept the
fire blazing.
It was some time before the excited boy could make her understand where
the bear was. She thought it was coming to the cave. But when she found
out the danger Fisher was in she stood for a minute thinking.
“The men are all gone,” she said. “They have all the spears and
harpoons. Here is a strong bow, but there are only three arrows. You
can not kill a bear with arrows.”
“I will try,” said Bolo eagerly.
Not many men in the Clan could shoot with a bow. They had always used
spears and harpoons. They made the heads of them out of flintstones.
One Eye had been the first man in the Clan to make arrows. He had
learned how from a stranger who had once visited the Clan. One Eye
thought the arrows much better than the spears, but most of the men
liked their old weapons best.
Bolo had never shot an arrow himself, but he had seen his father do so
many times. When he thought of the savage bear growling at the foot of
the tree he was afraid. Then he thought how brave One Eye was, and of
the terrible battle with the auroch which had cost him one of his eyes
and had earned for him the name of being the boldest man in the Clan.
That had happened many years ago when One Eye was a boy like Bolo.
“I will shoot the bear,” he said again, and his voice was more eager
than before.
His mother gave him the stout bow and the three arrows. He ran back to
the trees as fast as he could go. When he got to the nearest one he
took the bow and arrows firmly between his knees and grasped the lowest
limb with both hands. In a minute he had drawn himself up and was
scurrying back through the branches to the place where poor Fisher was
waiting.
He found the boy just where he had left him. The big bear was growling
fiercely and walking around the tree. Often she would stop and reach up
as far as she could with her forepaws, tearing viciously at the bark
and snarling with rage.
When Fisher saw Bolo coming he shouted for joy. He did not think Bolo
would come back. Cave people did not often think of helping each other.
Each had to take care of himself.
“Now see me shoot the bear,” called Bolo proudly, fitting one of the
precious arrows to the bow.
“Twang!” went the bowstring.
But Bolo was so excited that the arrow flew wide of its mark. The bear
roared more angrily than ever.
Bolo sat down on a thick limb. He was not so sure of killing the bear
now. He fitted the next arrow very carefully and waited till the bear
had turned so as to face him. Then he drew the shaft back against the
taut string and took steady aim.
“Twang!” went the second arrow.
What a roar there was then! The arrow pierced the bear’s shaggy hide
just above her shoulder and she rolled over and over on the ground,
clawing at it and howling with pain and anger. But presently she was up
again, tearing madly at the tree where Bolo was sitting.
[Illustration: “There was only one arrow left”]
There was only one arrow left. Bolo’s face grew very sober as he fitted
it to the string. If he should not kill the bear this time poor Fisher
would have to stay where he was until some of the men came home. He
might grow so weary that he could not hold on any longer, and then the
bear would eat him.
But if he could kill the bear! Ah, then he would be a hero indeed--a
great hero like One Eye. And then, too, the cave men would all see what
a fine weapon the arrow was, and they would know that One Eye was wiser
than they were. But even One Eye had not thought a bear could be killed
with arrows.
Bolo waited until the bear was over her first rage and had grown quiet
again. By and by she paused a moment with her forepaws against the
tree, looking up into the branches. Bolo took careful aim right at her
small, wicked-looking eye.
The third time the arrow flew from the string. And this time it went
straight to its mark! The bear shrieked with agony and reared up on her
hind legs. Then she rolled over on her side in the grass. Bolo waited
to see if she would get up. Then he called to Fisher.
With a wild whoop, both boys slid down to the ground. At first they did
not dare to go very near the bear. Fisher picked up a stone and threw
it at her, but she did not move. Then how the boys danced and shouted!
But Bolo soon thought of something else.
“The wolves will come,” he said.
“We must hurry back to the caves,” said Fisher.
“Then we will not have any bear meat,” returned Bolo.
“We must save the meat if we can,” said Fisher. “But we are only two
boys, and the wolves are many and fierce.”
“Gather some dry wood quickly,” said Bolo. “I will run back and bring a
torch.”
It did not take long for the boys to make a circle of blazing sticks
around the carcass of the bear. But almost before it was done they
could hear the terrible howl of the hungry wolves, and they knew the
pack was closing in about them. Fisher was frightened and wished
they had left the meat for the wolves. But Bolo only laughed loudly,
and threw stones through the wall of fire at the wolves, and called
tauntingly to them. He knew they were safe so long as the fire burned.
Pretty soon it grew dark, and still the hungry wolves howled around the
wall of fire, pacing restlessly up and down and watching for a place
to break through it. The boys were getting tired. Besides, all the dry
wood they had been able to gather would soon be gone, and then what
would they do? They could save themselves by climbing into the trees,
but then they would have to give up their bear, and such a supply of
meat was a prize. It meant a feast of many days for the whole Clan.
“If I had more arrows I would shoot the wolves, too,” said Bolo; “then
we could go wherever we liked. When we get back to the cave I will ask
my father to teach me how to make them for myself.”
“I hear someone shouting,” said Fisher, just as the dawn was beginning
to show above the treetops.
Both boys called out as loudly as they could. In another minute they
were answered.
“We are coming,” shouted the men.
The men carried blazing branches in their hands. They came running
toward the snarling wolf pack, screaming and waving the firebrands
about their heads. The wolves quickly slunk away among the trees and
did not dare to come near again.
What a time there was when the men came back to the Valley of Caves
bringing the bear. Bolo and Fisher had to tell over and over how it had
all happened, and just how the arrow had killed the great beast. One
Eye was very proud, partly because the people knew now what good things
arrows were, and partly because Bolo had shown himself to be such a
hero.
“He has learned a great lesson,” said One Eye. “He has learned how to
take care of himself like a man.”
“You must teach me to make arrows,” said Bolo.
“Yes,” said One Eye, “that shall be your next lesson.”