III

The overhanging cliff was a rock-shelter and a score or more men were

sitting around a fire at its base. The fire presented a most cheering

aspect. Gonch could almost feel its warmth and taste the burning flesh

whose inviting aroma now filled his nostrils. Neither fire nor cooked

meat had been his portion for a long time. The men of the rock-shelter

were enjoying themselves thoroughly, talking and making strange faces

at one another. Hyenas and wolves laughed when engaged in unusual acts

of cruelty. Gonch had often done likewise but in his grimaces was none

of the good-feeling that lighted the features of those he now saw. They

were hunters gathered about the fire and searing the flesh of the game

they had recently killed; all strong fine-looking young men, warming

and enjoying themselves. Each man’s weapons lay close beside him upon

the ground. The Muskman’s eyes sparkled as he espied the lustrous flint

gleaming from every long shaft and handle. “I have reached my goal at

last,” he chuckled softly. “This is the domain of the Mammoth Man.”

One of the band now detached himself from his fellows and descended the

river bank to drink. He was a young man, an unusually young one to be

consorting with hunters and warriors. He was on hands and knees bending

over the water when something stirred in the bushes above him. Some beast

lay concealed close to where the young man or boy was slaking his thirst.

Gradually its head and back rose above the green foliage, as a large

panther preparing to spring.

The big cat was in the very act of launching itself upon the lad when a

loud yell made it pause. The next moment, a man with uplifted ax bounded

down the rock-wall and dashed upon the beast. A terrific commotion ensued

as the cave-men seized their weapons and leaped to their feet shouting

and yelling. They saw the newcomer charge into the bushes. A giant cat’s

head and shoulders rose up to meet him and in a jiffy, man and panther

were struggling to the death.

The stranger struck one blow. He could not determine its effect nor

strike a second, for the beast was upon him. A dozen warriors rushed to

his aid. Something crashed down upon his head and when he came to, he

was lying upon the ground while somebody wiped his face with a bunch of

leaves. The leaves were wet and red. Men’s faces were bending over him.

The hunters were jabbering and pointing at the body of a large feline

stretched motionless beside him. “The beast would have slain you but for

him,” said a voice.

“Yes, I know,” said another—the boy who wiped the face of the stricken

man. “Who is he?”

“He came from the sky,” spoke up a third. “I saw him flying through the

air. A stranger and yet his ax-blade is the same as ours.”

The stranger was by this time sufficiently recovered to sit up. The

cave-men crowded about him.

“Who are you? From where did you come?” asked one.

“He smells like a cave-beast,” said another. “Perhaps he came here to

hunt.”

“To hunt panthers,” the boy laughed. “A queer odor but what of that? He

saved me from death.”

He was a sturdy lad of about sixteen years, clean-cut and well-muscled.

He wore a strip of rawhide wound several times about his waist. A

skin-pouch filled with large pebbles hung from his shoulder.

“My name is Gonch,” said the man rubbing his sore head. “The cave-beasts

are my enemies. I have not yet washed from my body the taint of their

killing. One panther more; what does it matter?”

Those about him lifted their eyebrows and stared at him who made so light

of his prowess.

“Killer of flesh-eating beasts? That is good,” said a man, “but he has

not yet told us why he comes here.”

“Who are you to question a chief?” retorted Gonch scornfully. “I will

answer to only one; him I have come to see.”

“Who is that?” asked the man abashed by the stranger’s authoritative

tone.

“The Mammoth Man.” Gonch gazed from one huntsman to another, to see the

effect of this. All faces were now turned toward the boy.

“I can take you to him,” said the latter. “When you are able to walk, we

will go.”

“Where?” asked Gonch.

The lad pointed up the bank to where a line of cliffs extended far into

the valley. “He lives there; I live there too. We can go together.”

“Who are you?”

“Kutnar,” replied the boy. His face expanded in a broad grin. “I can show

you where you wish to go as well as anybody, for I am the son of the

Mammoth Man.”

Kutnar, Son of Pic · 第 24 / 48 题