All about Goba’s hut there were great heaps of flint stones, and the
floor of the sheds where they worked was covered with broken pieces
and waste chips. Goba and the other men all had different pieces of
work on hand. Goba was making a spear-head; he had laid it on a large
stone between his knees and kept striking it sharply and delicately
with a small stone which he held in his right hand, to finish chipping
the edge and make it sharp. Tig stood by and watched; and when Goba
saw that Tig was watching him, he let him take the spear-head in his
hands and look at it and feel the sharp point. It was made of beautiful
yellow flint stone.
“Did you make it out of one of those stones?” Tig asked.
“Yes,” said Goba, “out of such a one as they have there, see,” and he
pointed to where two men were fixing a large grey flint stone into a
groove between two great logs. Then one of the men took a large stone
and struck the flint at the top and knocked off a long flake. This they
did six or seven times; and then they gathered up the flakes and took
them into the shed.
And Goba showed Tig some of the things the other men were making. Two
of them were at work upon arrow-heads, chipping them very slowly and
carefully; and while Tig was watching, one man made an unlucky stroke
and broke his arrow-head in two. So he spoiled all his day’s work at
one blow, and there was nothing for it but to take another flake and
begin all over again. But the other man took a bone tool like a chisel,
and pressed it along the edge of his arrow-head all the way along,
flaking off tiny chips and making the arrow-head very sharp.
Another man was making a stone axe. He had shaped it out by hammering
it with stones of different shapes and sizes, and was then busily
grinding the cutting edge by rubbing the axe-head backward and forward,
backward and forward all the time, upon a large grooved slab of hard
sandstone.
“With such as this we can cut,” said Goba; “we can fell trees and hew
them in pieces. There is nothing like my axes for cutting. Now see, I
will show thee how the men of the old time made their axes--they that
were in the land before our fathers came hither;” and Goba picked up a
heavy lump of flint stone that had been roughly chipped into the shape
of an axe-head. “Even such as this were the axes of those rude folk!
Ho! ho! right enough to brain a wolf withal, but good for naught when
it comes to felling of trees or hewing of timber. We must have our axes
well ground to an edge for felling timber, little son.”
“Why doesn’t my father make spears for himself?” Tig asked.
“Thy father is a hunter, boy,” said Goba. “Look at me! Can I chase the
deer? Nay! Too heavy and slow am I for hunting. Set thy father’s leg
against my leg and his arm against my arm: then thou wilt see.
“But set thy father’s hand against my hand, his eye against my eye! He
can spy the deer when they are many paces distant among the fern, where
I should see naught. But can he see, as I can see, into the heart of
the stone, and can he handle it aright to shape an arrow or an axe?
Nay, he cannot. Now I was born to love the good stones, and these my
sons follow after me. It is not born in thee to handle stones: thou
wilt grow up to be a hunter, like thy father.”
“I should like to be a spearmaker, and make spears and arrows like
these of yours,” said Tig.
“Then thou must come and learn our craft,” said the old man, “and that
is a long matter. Start young, that’s the only way. The hand must
learn, and the eye must learn, and many a likely piece of stuff be
spoiled before a craftsman is made. But thou wilt not come. Thy father
likes better for thee to learn how to hunt deer and slay wolves, with
the good stones that I and my sons will make for thee. It is not born
in thee to follow our craft, little son.”
Inside his hut Goba had his store of all kinds of weapons made of
stone--axes and spears and arrow-heads and daggers; he also had knives
and chisels, and scrapers to scrape hides with, and little saws, and
many other such things all of flint stone.
Then Garff and his men unpacked the goods they had brought with
them--fine skins, and pickaxes made of deer’s antlers (of which Goba
was always in want, for digging out the flint), and a fine buck that
they had killed in the forest that morning, and as much of the crushed
corn out of their stock as they could spare. And these things they
exchanged with Goba for flint arrows and spears and two or three axes.
And Goba gave Tig a javelin or little spear for his own; because he
said that the party had a long way to travel before they could get
home, and Tig must have his weapon like the rest, in case they should
fall in with wild beasts and be attacked.
[Illustration]
_Chapter the Thirteenth_
_Arsan’s Story about Grim the Hunter_
ARSAN was the oldest man in Garff’s village; he was so old that no one
knew how old he was. He could remember things that happened before
anyone else in the village was born; and he was very fond of telling
stories about the old times. The people liked to listen to Arsan’s
stories, when they were gathered round the fire in winter, or when
sitting out of doors on a summer evening.
One day in winter, when the snow was thick outside and the people were
keeping at home out of the storm, many of them gathered together in
Garff’s hut. Old Arsan was there, and the people asked for a story,
and Tig crept near so that he could hear it. And Arsan said:
“Once, when I was a child, about the bigness of this youngling here,
or less, I beheld Grim the Hunter. Well do I remember the day when I
beheld Grim the mighty hunter.”
Then the people said: “Tell us a story of Grim the mighty hunter.”
So Arsan began his story, and he said: “In the days long ago men were
great hunters. There be none now that are hunters like them of the old
time. For in the old time there were beasts more and mightier than
there be nowadays, and the men who hunted them were mightier likewise.
There was Laidir who once tracked out the great wild ox and slew him
in the swamp. And there was Curad who wore about his neck a necklace
of three rows of the fang-teeth of wolves that he had slain with his
own hand. But greater than Laidir and greater than Curad was Grim, the
mighty hunter.
“When Grim was but a little more than a babe, he took a spear and
killed a wolf-cub that his father had brought into the hut alive. And
it was said of him, by them that were wise among the folk, that he
would live to be a slayer of beasts.
“Now when he was grown a tall youth, it befell one day that he went
forth into the woods to kill meat. He carried his bow and arrows at his
back, and in his hand a spear. By his side hung his trusty axe, a stone
of the best. So he went, armed like a man, but without the wit of a
man, and heeding naught.
“For by and by he spied a bear-cub moving among the fern in an open
space of the woods. Now Grim greatly desired to have the skin of a
bear-cub, so, without more ado, he shot at the bear-cub thrice with
his arrows and wounded it; and then ran after it and smote it as it
ran, and slew it. And then, since it was too heavy a beast for him to
carry off, he fell to skinning it there and then, so as to load
himself with the hide and come again for the meat. But suddenly he
heard a terrible roar behind him, and turning round he saw a great big
she-bear, that was the mother of the cub, coming upon him out of the
forest.”
[Illustration: The Bear]
Then some of the people cried out: “Nay, tell us now--surely she slew
him not!”
And Arsan said: “Nay, she slew him not. For Grim was but a youth then,
and as ye know he was thereafter an old man dwelling among the people.
Nay, she slew him not. But the she-bear came upon him with a terrible
roaring. She was dreadful to look upon, of a vast bigness, her eyes
like hot fire and her jaws dripping foam. And Grim turned and ran for
his life; but she ran faster than he, and would surely have caught him,
but that he won to a tree, and climbed up instantly out of her reach.
“Then the she-bear climbed up into the tree after Grim. So he crept
out upon a long branch, and the bear made ready to follow him. Then
Grim fitted an arrow to his bow and took steady aim and shot, and shot
again, and wounded her in the body. But she came on, nevertheless,
growling, and mowing with her great jaws. Then Grim worked himself
along to the end of the branch and held by his hands, and swung and so
dropped to a branch below. And the she-bear turned herself about and
climbed down to that branch and came along towards him as before. And,
again, Grim drew two arrows on her and wounded her twice again, and the
blood came streaming from the wounds. Then Grim saw that he had only
three arrows left. So again he swung from the branch and dropped, and
thence to the ground; and he stood up and shot all three arrows into
the bear from beneath, with all his might and main. And she turned to
climb downwards, and ripped the tree with her great claws, and fell
to the ground; and though she was stricken to the death, she reared
herself on her hind legs and made as though to set upon him. Then,
being eager to kill, he picked up his spear and hurled it, so that it
pierced the bear’s breast, and she fell forward, tearing and biting at
the spear. Then Grim ran in upon her with his axe, and clove her skull
and made an end of her. And he cut out his arrows from her carcase and
struck off her four paws and took them; and he took the skin of the
bear-cub. And then, because it was near to nightfall, he hastened home.
“And he and some of the people came on the next day to the place, and,
lo! the wolves had devoured the carcases of the she-bear and of the
bear-cub in the night, and there remained not even the bones of them.
“And Grim made him a necklace of the claws of the she-bear that he slew
on that day; and it was ever about his neck. This have I seen. And it
was meet that he should wear her claws for bravery and strength; for he
slew her with his own hands.
“Thus was Grim great and famous among the people; and far be it from me
to name his name to his hurt. Howbeit, he was a mighty hunter!”
And the people all said: “Aye, surely that was he--he was a mighty
hunter!”
[Illustration]
_Chapter the Fourteenth_
_DICK AND HIS FRIENDS: A Talk about Stone Weapons_
AS soon as he had finished reading the chapter, Uncle John went to a
cabinet and took out a box in which were a number of flint arrow-heads
of different shapes and sizes. Some were not longer than one’s
finger-nail, and some were two or three inches in length, long enough
to be used as heads for a javelin, such as Goba gave to Tig. Some were
oval in shape like the leaf of a privet bush, others were shaped like
the ace of diamonds; some had barbs at each side, and some a tang
between the barbs for fixing the head to the shaft of the arrow.
Uncle John asked David if he could tell why some of the arrows were
barbed and some not. Joe said that perhaps only the cleverest men could
make the barbed arrows; the others were easier to make.
“No doubt that was so,” said Uncle John, “but all the same, they made a
great many of both kinds.”
Dick said perhaps the plain arrows were for shooting at a target, but
the barbed ones for killing things.
“I expect,” said Uncle John, “that the barbed arrows were used in
battle. A barbed arrow cannot be plucked out of a wound, and so it is
more deadly than the other. The plain arrows were generally used in
hunting. When a man had shot a deer or a hare, he wanted to be able to
pull out his arrow at once and use it again, but a barbed arrow sticks
in the wound and cannot be pulled out.”
Dick wanted to know if one of these little arrow-heads would really
kill a big animal like a deer. David said, “Yes, of course it would. It
is as big as a rifle bullet.”
“But it wasn’t shot as hard as a rifle bullet is,” Dick said.
“However, these arrows were shot quite hard enough,” said Uncle John.
“Some years ago the skeleton of a man was found in a cave in France.
The man had evidently been killed in battle in the old times that we
have been reading about, for sticking in his backbone was the head of a
flint arrow, which had been shot at the man with such force that it had
pierced his clothing and his body, and had half buried itself in his
spine.”
Then Uncle John opened another drawer in his cabinet, and took out a
stone axe-head, beautifully ground and polished, shaped to a cutting
edge both back and front, and with a hole drilled through for the
shaft. The boys all looked at it and handled it, and Joe said:
“How could men cut down trees with an axe like that? It would never be
sharp enough to cut wood with, surely.”
“I think this one was a battle-axe,” Uncle John answered, “because it
is small and very carefully finished, as you see, and ornamented with
these lines at the top. Axes for cutting wood were larger and plainer,
I daresay. But even then, of course, they weren’t such useful tools
as our steel axes that we use nowadays. Has anyone of you ever heard
what else the men of those old times used, when they wanted to fell a
big tree?--Why, fire! They lighted a fire at the foot of the tree, and
when it was burnt out, they hacked away the charred wood and lighted
the fire again--and so on, until they got the tree down. Then they had
to chop and chop with their axes to trim the trunk; so it was a long
business. But they managed it all the same; for they needed hewn wood
for many purposes, of which, no doubt, the book will tell us later on.”
The next day, out on the heath, the boys gathered flint stones and
tried to make some arrow-heads. They found it very hard work. It was
easy to knock off pieces that had a cutting edge or a sharp point; but
it was very hard to chip these flakes into anything like the proper
shape. They all tried for a long while, and banged and cut their
fingers, without producing a single good specimen; and this they found
a little disappointing. But, as Uncle John reminded them, Goba and his
men were old hands at the business, and no doubt they had had to spend
a long time learning and practising it before they could do it well.
“And even then,” said Uncle John, “how long do you think it would take
a skilled man to make a single arrow-head?” The boys all guessed about
an hour or two. “Well, of course, we don’t know,” said Uncle John. “But
I can tell you this. Some years ago two Englishmen, who were travelling
in the wild parts of North America, came across a tribe of Red Indians
who had nothing but stone weapons. And the Indians told them that
even the cleverest workman of the tribe could not make more than one
arrow-head in a whole day’s work. So a dagger, or a long spear or a
stone axe, especially of the sort that was ground to an edge at both
ends and polished all over, must have taken weeks or even months to
make.
“In the British Museum,” Uncle John went on, “there is a large
collection of very wonderful flint weapons. Some day we will all go to
London, and Dick shall take us to the Museum to see them; and besides
these we shall see the hammer-stones that were used for chipping flints
with, and the grinding stones on which the stone axes were rubbed and
ground to an edge.”
[Illustration]
_Chapter the Fifteenth_
_THE STORY OF TIG: The Village Pond_
THE pond from which the women of the village used to get water for
drinking and washing and cooking was outside the village on the top of
the hill. It was always full of good water, even in dry weather. The
women dipped their jars there, and the cattle drank from it, but there
was always plenty of water. No one had ever known the pond to run dry.
However, one day when the men had all gone hunting, some of the women
went to the pond to fetch water. But soon they came back and ran about
among the huts, crying out, “Oho, oho! The pond is dry! The pond is
dry, oho! oho!”
Then the other women came out of the huts, and some of the old men and
boys with them, and they all made haste to go to the pond. When they
got to it, they found that what the first woman had said was true.
There was not a pond at all, but only a puddle where the pond had been.
And the women tossed up their arms and wailed, “Oho-ho-ho! the pond is
dry!”
Then during many days the people were sadly troubled for want of water
close at hand. The women had to go in parties down to the river in the
valley and carry the heavy jars of water all the way up the hill to the
huts. And the men had to beat a track through the woods and take the
cattle down to drink at the stream, and guard them carefully going and
coming for fear of wolves, every man carrying his weapons: and this
kept the men at home and hindered them from hunting.
So they sent for a wise man, called a Medicine Man, to come to tell
them what they might do to bring back the water. And the Medicine Man
said, “Make a feast and dance and sing and call upon the gods, praying
them to send rain; and the rain will come and fill up the pond.”
So the people made a feast, and they danced for many hours and sang all
their songs over and over again, and yet no rain came. However, after
three days there was a thunderstorm, and much rain fell; but it did not
fill up the pond.
Then they asked the Medicine Man again, and he said: “Let the people
dance and sing and call upon the gods again. And afterwards let the
women take jars and go and fill them at the river and bring them up and
pour out the water upon the pond. Then the spirits of the water will
return, and the pond will be filled.” So the people did all this; and
the women carried up jars and jars full of water from the river and
poured it into the pond. But the water sank away faster than they could
pour it in, and there was nothing left but a puddle.
Then they asked the Medicine Man again. And he went and brought two
other Medicine Men, and they walked round and round the pond with their
wands in their hands. Then they said: “The gods are angry and have
taken away the water. They will not send it again unless the people
offer sacrifices. Let an ox be sacrificed.”
So the people took an ox and led it out of the fold and brought it on
to the hill-side and killed it for a sacrifice. And they made fires
and cooked the meat, and feasted and danced, singing their songs and
calling on their gods. They kept up the dancing all night long; and
every hour during the night they sent men with torches to see if the
pond was filling up. But every time the men returned and said, “Nay,
there is no water!” And in the morning they went again, but there was
no water and nothing but a puddle. And all the people were very sad.
_Chapter the Sixteenth_
_What Arsan said about the Old Pond_
THAT day it happened that Tig found Arsan, the old man, sitting in the
sun outside his hut; so he came near and the old man called him and
bade him sit down. Tig had often heard people say that Arsan knew many
things, so he made up his mind to ask him about the pond.
“How is it that our pond has gone dry?” Tig asked.
“What is it that the wise ones say?” said the old man.
“They say that the water-spirits are angry and have gone away,” Tig
answered; “and they have bidden my father and all the folk to offer
sacrifices and to dance and sing. And all has been done as they have
said; but the spirits do not come back. Will they come back, thinkest
thou, grandfather?”
“Nay, I do not think they will come back,” said Arsan.
“Then shall we have no water to drink?” asked Tig.
But Arsan answered: “Now heed and I will tell thee! ’Tis not the first
time I have known the water-spirits to go away. Once before I have seen
this thing happen: not here, seest thou, but in another village where I
dwelt once. Oh, ’twas dire! The water dried up, and there was none for
man or beast. And all that we could do availed naught--ay, though we
offered sacrifice of cattle, it availed naught.”
“Did the Medicine Men come then?” Tig asked.
“Ay, they came.”
“And what did they say?”
“They said it was not enough. They called to mind a custom of our
fathers that was wont to be observed of old time when the gods were
angry; and they chose out a youth and slew him as a sacrifice. But it
availed not; the waters did not return.”
“And what did the folk do then?” Tig asked.
“What did they do? Why then at last they sought counsel of the old men
that had wisdom, and knew how to make a right dwelling place for the
water-spirits.”
“Was not our pond a right place for the water-spirits?” Tig asked.
“Now listen, boy, and I will show thee. How is it with us? Do we dwell
always in one place? Nay, thou knowest we do not. We shift with the
cattle and go from place to place; we cannot abide in one place always.
So do the spirits. It is true that after a while we come back to our
village here; and so, perchance, might they return, if we should be
content to wait for them; but meantime the folk and the cattle would
have no water to drink. So what’s to do? Why we must make them a new
home. That’s what we must do--make them a new home!”
“Why don’t the Medicine Men make it?” Tig asked.
“Speak not of them, boy,” said Arsan. “They know their own ways. I am
an old man, but I know not the ways of them. I bethink me of the old
times that are past long ago, and of what our fathers did to prepare a
dwelling-place for the water-spirits.”
“What did they do, grandfather?” Tig asked.
“Nay, now, be content. I have said enough,” the old man answered.
But that night when Tig was in the hut with his father, he said to him,
“Father, I have been talking with Arsan. He knows how to make the
water-spirits come back and fill up our pond again.”
“Oh, he knows, does he?” said Garff. “Then he must tell us.”
[Illustration]
_Chapter the Seventeenth_
_How they made the Pond anew_
SO on the next day Garff called some of the men of the village, and
they went to the chief’s hut and told him that Arsan knew of a way to
bring back the water-spirits and fill up the pond again. The chief was
glad when they told him this, and he sent to the old man, asking him to
come to the council and make known his plan. Arsan came willingly. The
men sat round in the chief’s hut, and Arsan stood up and spoke.
“It is many years ago,” he said, “I was a young lad then, but I
remember. The spirits of the water did quit the pool where we were wont
to drink. Suddenly they went, no man knew why; nor would they return,
though we danced without ceasing for a night and a day, and sang and
offered cattle in sacrifice to the gods. Then it was said by one of
the Medicine Men that the high gods were angry and that the killing
of cattle would not appease them. So the folk took a goodly youth and
bound him hand and foot and slew him for a sacrifice. But still the
water came not again.
“Then arose one of the folk, an old man that had understanding, and he
said: ‘Are not the spirits even as we? Do we abide always in one house?
Shall not the spirits desire to leave their old dwelling-place and
seek a new one? Do we not know that the deer on the hills abide now in
one place and now in another: and the wild geese, do they not fly from
one place to another? and do not the bees go forth in bands when the
time is come for them to seek a new resting-place? So do the spirits
of the water. They seek a new place to dwell in. Let us make them a
dwelling-place.’
“So when our fathers heard these words, they made haste to prepare a
dwelling-place for the water-spirits after a manner that I remember and
can show. Many days they toiled; and when the work was finished, they
feasted and danced all night and sang the ancient songs. And in the
morning, lo! the waters were returned.”
Then the chief said: “So this manner of making a new place for the
spirits of the water is known to thee, and thou canst tell it.”
“It dwells in my mind, and I can tell it,” said the old man. “But every
one must work and do as he is bid for many days. The hunting-gear must
be laid aside, and every man must work.”
So the chief and all the men laid aside their hunting-gear and set to
work. And this is what Arsan made them do.
First he walked out with all the men to a place on the top of the hill,
close to the village, where there was a flat place that was a little
hollowed out like a saucer; and he set the men to work with hoes to
scratch up the earth to make the hollow place deeper and wider. They
gathered up the earth in baskets, and some of it they threw away down
the hill, and some they laid around the rim of the hollow and trod it
down hard.
Then Arsan sent the men with good, sharp knives of flint to cut down
reeds and rushes and bracken and tough grass, and bind them into
sheaves and bundles; also he bade them cut birch twigs and elder twigs
and tie them into bundles, too. And when they had got large piles of
bundles ready, he showed them how to lay the bundles on the ground in
the hollow place, packing them tight and close together, like a thick
mat, or like thatch.