In a cave close to the river a very old woman lived by herself. She did
not do any work. The cave people brought her everything she needed to
eat, and when she wanted a new garment Stitcher made it for her. She
had something more important to do than to gather food or sew skins.
She had to take care of the Great Fire.
Sometimes the fire in the other caves went out. Then Flame, for that
was the old woman’s name, had to light a torch at the fire in her cave
and give it to the person who needed it. So of course the Great Fire
must never go out for if it did no one knew how to get any more.
No one knew where Flame got the fire in her cave. Her mother was Keeper
of the Great Fire for the Clan as far back as the oldest men could
remember. She taught Flame how to talk to the Fire-god and persuade him
to give her the fire, but Flame had never told anyone else. She liked
to be the fire-keeper herself.
Bolo and Fisher often went to Flame’s cave. They liked to watch the
great blaze always burning on the big flat rock just inside the
entrance to her cave. They brought her dry wood for it, and sometimes
she would let them roast nuts or broil slices of meat or fish over the
smaller fire where she cooked her own food. She would never allow them
to go very near the Great Fire on the big hearth, and she never used
that one to cook her food.
Bolo and Fisher often played in Flame’s cave. There was a small hole
away at the back of it where they could crawl out into the sunlight.
Flame did not like this hole. She was afraid some wild animal might
come through it. So she told the boys always to roll a great rock
against it when they were through playing. This was the first door any
of the Clan had ever had.
When it rained the cave people stayed at home. They were warm and dry
in the big caves. They always kept great piles of dry wood stored away
so that the fires rarely went out. The little children played about
in the firelight. The women, with Stitcher to teach them, pounded the
skins soft or sewed them into garments. The men busied themselves
making new points for their spears and harpoons. But One Eye always
made arrow heads instead, and since Bolo killed the cave bear many of
the men came to his cave to be taught how to make them, too. Many were
beginning to think arrows much better than their old weapons, but some
of the old men still declared they were of no use.
Once it began to rain, and for many days the clouds never broke and
rain fell constantly. The season was warm and the boys had a great deal
of fun running about in the wet. They always left their skin coats in
the caves when they did that, for if the skins got very wet it made
them stiff and hard.
At first this was sport, but as the days went on and the torrents still
poured down the cave people began to get uneasy. Their stock of wood
was running low, too, and the weather was turning colder.
“How high the river is running,” said Fisher one day. “And see how many
branches, and even great trees, are floating down on it.”
“It is almost up to the hole in the back of Flame’s cave,” said Bolo.
“We had better go and tell her,” said Fisher. So away they went to
Flame’s cave.
“The water never comes into my cave,” said Flame.
“But it is coming now,” cried Bolo in alarm. And sure enough, a little
trickle of muddy water was running across the floor.
Flame looked at the tiny stream anxiously.
“We must roll the great rock closer,” she said.
Bolo and Fisher ran to put the big rock in place. Then they tried to
daub mud about the edges to keep the water out. But it did no good. The
stream was constantly growing larger, and Flame grew frightened.
“The water will put out the Great Fire,” she said. “Ah, see! It is
coming in at the front of the cave, too.”
“It will drown us,” cried Fisher and Bolo in great fear. “Let us run
away from it.”
As they hastened out of the cave they saw people hurrying here and
there in great confusion. Bolo saw his mother with little Antelope on
her arm. She was running toward the trees. He saw One Eye, too, and
wondered what he had in the great skin bag he was carrying.
Everyone was screaming and calling, and everywhere he looked he saw
the muddy river. It had broken over its banks and was flooding all the
land. How fast it came!
Higher and higher it grew, with a great rush like the breaking of a
big wave on the ocean; and before Bolo and Fisher could get to the
trees it was nearly to their knees.
The boys never forgot that terrible time. For many long hours the
rain fell in gusty sheets, and below them, as they sat huddled close
together on a big limb, they could see nothing but brown, rushing
water. They called sometimes, and at first one or another of the cave
people would answer. Once Bolo heard his mother’s voice. But after a
while there were no more answers.
Then it began to grow very cold. The boys could not keep warm even
by sitting very close together. In the clouded light they could see
groups of cave people on the hills about the Valley. As they looked at
one group, to their horror, they saw a great pack of wolves fighting
through the water to reach the same high place. From another hilltop
they could hear the snarling of frightened and savage hyenas.
“It is better in the trees,” said Bolo.
“I wonder where Flame has gone,” said Fisher.
It seemed to Bolo as if they must die before the rain ceased and the
flood went down. Their hands grew so stiff that they could hardly hold
to the limbs. Dark came, and daylight, and dark again, they could not
tell how many times, and still the water raged below them. Once in the
night they felt something strike the tree, and in the morning the body
of a great wildcat hung limply across the end of the limb.
“I am glad he was dead before he found our tree,” said Bolo with a
shudder.
When the rain stopped at last and the water began to go down the boys
could hardly move. They tried to call, but their lips were stiff and
would not make much sound. Now and then, as the water whirled past, the
ghastly face of a drowned cave man would glimmer for a moment below
them, only to be swallowed up at once by the grim, brown water.
The water went down as fast as it had risen. As soon as it was safe the
boys slid stiffly to the ground and limped back to the caves. They were
hungry and cold and miserable, and they thought how good the fire would
feel. But though they searched long and carefully through the sodden
ashes they could not find so much as a single spark.
By and by more of the cave people began to come back home, one by one.
Frantically they searched through the desolate caves for a glimmer of
fire, but none could be found. They were in despair. How could they
live without fire? There would be no way to cook their food or to warm
themselves when it grew cold. And, worst of all, there would now be no
way to keep the wild beasts out of the caves, and all of the people
would have to go back to the trees to live, as did their fore-parents
so long, long ago. They were very wretched, and could do nothing but
huddle together in groups, trying to realize all that the loss of their
fires would mean to them.
But where was Flame? Perhaps if they could find her she could help
them. They thought she knew where the Fire-god lived and could get him
to send them fire.
“Let us see if we can find Flame,” said Bolo.
So he and Fisher started out to look for her.