Many days went by and still Stitcher did not come back to the Valley of
Caves. One Eye took his bow and arrows and went here and there among
the hills, but nothing could he find of either Stitcher or little
Antelope. He was very sad, for he remembered how pretty little Antelope
used to run out to meet him when he came home after a hunt, and what
fine shirts of reindeer and wolf-skins Stitcher made for him. One
day he came back to the caves after being gone a long time. He threw
himself wearily down and said very sadly:
“They are dead. I will search no more.”
But Bolo did not believe his mother was dead.
“I am going to try to find them,” he said. “Make me a strong bow and a
quiver full of fine arrows, for I may be gone a long time.”
One Eye shook his head mournfully.
“You will only die, too,” he said.
But Bolo brought some flint stones and set to making his arrows. Then
One Eye sat down to show him how to make them more keen and beautiful
than any he had ever made. He took a curved piece of bone and chipped
off the large flakes. Then he pressed off smaller flakes one by one,
working very carefully, until he had made a fine, keen point. Bolo
watched his father and worked in the same way, and soon they had a
nice lot of arrows. Bolo made a new head for his spear, too, and bound
it on with a fresh cord of reindeer sinew.
At last all was ready. One Eye brought a great, hollow bone that he had
taken from the leg of a mammoth years before and fastened a wooden base
to it. He drilled holes in the upper edge and strung thongs through
them so that Bolo could carry it over his shoulder. Then he put the
arrows into the hollow of the bone. It made a good quiver.
Bolo carried his bow over one shoulder and his quiver full of arrows
over the other. He carried his spear in his hand, and at his side he
hung a heavy hammer made of stone. One Eye wanted him to leave the
hammer and take a great club that he had made from the jawbone of a
cave bear, to which one long, sharp tooth was still attached. But Bolo
was afraid of this club. He was afraid it would make the cave bears
angry with him. So he did not take it. Fisher wanted to go with Bolo,
but Flame said “No.” She had grown very feeble and she was afraid she
might die. If both boys went away and never came back there would be no
one to talk to the Fire-god. So Fisher stayed to help Flame tend the
Great Fire.
For three days Bolo wandered about over the hills. At night he tied
himself to the branch of a tree, safely out of the reach of harm, and
slept soundly. He shot a rabbit now and then for food, and sometimes
caught a fish. One day he found himself suddenly surrounded by a pack
of snarling, hungry hyenas, but a few well-aimed arrows sent them
scurrying off into the hills. How glad Bolo was that they were not
wolves!
One day Bolo climbed a tall tree that stood alone on a hill. He hoped
he might be able to find some trace of those he sought. He looked
slowly about in every direction. On one side the hills lay like great,
rounded billows, many of them covered with trees. On the other side
wound the river, in some places between sloping shores, in others
between steep banks. Off toward the north it disappeared behind a
jutting cliff. It was a long way from Bolo’s tree, but he thought
he could see something moving along the river bank. He looked again
eagerly. Perhaps that might be his mother and little Antelope.
He climbed down the tree and ran across to another hilltop closer to
the river. Here he climbed another tree, and from that he saw something
so strange that he held his breath in terrified surprise.
[Illustration: “Bolo had never seen any animals like this before”]
Great, lumbering creatures were moving about along the edge of the
river. They had heavy, swinging snouts, and from their enormous heads
rose in great curves immense, yellowish things that looked like queer
horns. Bolo had never seen any animals like these before. He watched
them with fascinated eyes, wondering what they could be. Sometimes one
of them would reach up into a tree with its great snout and pull a
branch down. Two of them appeared to be quarreling, and one thrust its
shaggy head and wicked looking tusks against the side of the other and
made him stagger. Another waded out into the river and appeared to be
drinking. In a minute he threw his trunk over his back and out spouted
a stream of muddy water. There were fully twice as many of these
animals as there were fingers on both of his hands.
At last Bolo thought again of his mother and little Antelope. How he
hoped they had not been trampled to death by these dreadful beasts. He
had almost given up finding them now, for he was sure that even if they
had not been drowned or killed by wild beasts they must have starved.
So, sad at heart, he started on the long journey back to the Valley of
Caves.
Weary and heartsick, he came in sight of the caves. But who was that
running up the slope to meet him? Surely it could not be--yes, it was!
It was dear little Antelope, holding up her baby hands and shouting
his name. Down the hill he ran, forgetting his aching limbs and heavy
heart, and how both laughed and shouted for joy as he caught his lost
sister up and put her on his shoulder. Together thus, they came to the
cave where Stitcher sat, her brown hands for once idle as she leaned
wearily against the side of a great rock. She looked very worn and
thin, but smiled gladly when Bolo came up and put his arm about her
shoulders.
“We looked everywhere,” he said. “Where have you been all this time?
And how did you live?”
“I will tell you another time,” said Stitcher. “I do not like to talk
about it now.”
How excited Bolo was as he told One Eye and the other cave men about
the strange herd he had seen in the distant valley. The whole Clan was
at once in a turmoil. One Eye gave it as his opinion that the great
animals were mammoths, which rarely came into that region, and were
very valuable for their meat, their skins, and the ivory in the long
tusks. One mammoth would make meat for all the Clan for many days, and
they were all eager to start at once on a great hunt for them.
“We must take spears and harpoons,” said one.
“No, we must take bows and arrows,” said another.
“We will go up the river and attack them from the water,” said a third.
“No,” objected a fourth, “that would frighten them back into the hills
and we could not get them.”
In short, each man in the Clan seemed to think he knew just what to do,
and would not listen to anyone else. For a while it looked as if the
great hunt would have to be given up.
“Why not choose someone who is brave and wise to lead you, and then all
do as he tells you to?” suggested Bek, the oldest man in the Clan.
No one had thought of that.
“That is right,” said Flame, who had come up to listen.
“But how shall we know who is the wisest?” called several voices at
once.
“Who has done the most for the Clan?” asked old Bek.
“One Eye saved our weapons when the flood came.”
“He taught us to make arrows.”
“He is not afraid.”
“Then let One Eye be the leader,” cried Flame, and to this they all
agreed.
Such a time as there was then! The cave men ran here and there
gathering up spears and arrows and clubs and making themselves ready.
The women bound new points on the spears with heavy sinews, and Bolo
helped his father prepare a number of torches from wood soaked in fat.
Flame brought some other torches made from knotty pine limbs. They all
knew they would need fire with which to fight the mammoths.