_The Hunt and the Fire_
On the day preceding the tribe's departure for the land of the noonday
sun, two important preparations were made.
First of all, a mighty hunt was arranged. All the able-bodied men--and
they numbered nearly a hundred--set out together for their favorite
hunting-ground, where they stationed themselves at intervals in a rude
circle about a strip of field and forest two or three square miles in
extent. Then, at the signal of the chieftain's shout relayed from man
to man, the hunters started at a trot toward the center of the circle,
meanwhile yelling and clamoring at the top of their lusty voices and
raising a hullabaloo that might have awakened the dead.
Needless to say, any animals roaming within the chosen area would
take alarm. Some, wild with fear, would endeavor to dash past the
huntsmen, and not a few of these would offer a target for clubs and
stones; a majority, driven toward the center of the enclosure, would
find themselves hemmed in by an ever-tightening ring of their foes.
If they could not save themselves by a desperate flight through the
encompassing lines--as many did, in fact, save themselves--they would
be forced irresistibly toward the four or five pits in the center
of the closing circle. And since these had been dug with careful
forethought and shrewdly covered with concealing branches and grass,
the victims would topple headlong into the ten-foot depths; and there,
bellowing with fear or howling with pain, a mass of convulsive,
twisting forms and broken limbs, they would present an easy mark for
the clubs of their persecutors.
On this particular day, the Umbaddu hunters were unusually successful.
Two wild boars, a wild horse, four wild cattle, half a dozen rabbits,
a score of squirrels, a doe and a fawn of the giant deer, a half-grown
moose and a young rhinoceros--these constituted their trophies of
the chase. Now they would have meat in plenty for days and days to
come! And the penalty for this gigantic haul had been exceptionally
small--not a man had been killed, though the shoulder of Kuff the
Bear-Hunter had been ripped open by an infuriated wildcat, and Ru had
earned the mirth of his fellows by taking to the trees and saving
himself by the bare fraction of an inch before the charge of a maddened
aurochs.
The victims, once dispatched, were skinned and cut up on the spot;
and this was a long and laborious process, for the flint knives and
scrapers worked slowly and clumsily and with a vast amount of wasted
effort. Much of the booty, indeed, had to be left where it lay as an
offering to the wolves and vultures; yet when the hunters at last set
off homeward, each was weighed down to capacity with the flesh, hides,
and marrowbones of the slaughtered.
And with what a tumult they were received when, having scaled the
cliff walls, they stood once more at the cave entrance! One would have
thought they were warriors returning from the conquest--the women
greeted them with screams of delight; they shouted with childish glee
at sight of the fresh stores of food; their great broad faces grinned
with apelike grimaces, and their heavy lips smacked with anticipatory
joy. And every returning huntsman was welcomed by some particular
woman, who smiled admiration at him from her beady black eyes--every
huntsman, that is, with two exceptions.
The first exception was Grumgra, who was greeted by a circle of three
or four congratulatory females. And the second was Ru, whose return
seemed not to be noticed at all, but who stood by sullenly and alone,
while his boisterous fellows shouted loud stories of their exploits,
and the Smiling-Eyed pressed healing herbs to the wounded shoulder of
Kuff the Bear-Hunter.
After the tumult had begun to die away, the women busied themselves in
holding great sizzling joints above the fire and in laying out smaller
joints to smoke. And now the tribe began its second preparation for the
departure.
This event was signalized by the arrival of Zunzun the Marvel-Worker.
While the returned huntsmen sprawled in ungainly attitudes about the
fire or crouched upon their haunches with heads bent motionless above
their knees, a flutter of excitement stirred the farther recesses of
the cavern, and a squat, sinewy form slowly emerged. At first sight
there was nothing to distinguish the newcomer from his kinsmen, except
that his stoop was extreme even among this race of stooping men--he
bent forward like an anthropoid ape, with long arms dangling before
him from sloping shoulders. But as he shambled into the firelight, one
might have observed another point of distinction; for while his massive
face and gorilla-like features were not less bestial than those of his
fellows, his black shaggy mane was interspersed and mellowed by hairs
of gray. For Zunzun was quite old--he had more years, some said, than
the month had days--and it was rumored that his memory reached back to
the time when the eldest among his living tribesmen was a babe suckling
its mother's breast.
As he approached, the onlookers automatically ceased their chattering;
and in unconscious unison they all sat up, with eyes fastened upon him.
When within a few paces of the fire, Zunzun paused, flung his hands
upward, and launched forth upon a prayer to the fire-god. In deep,
bellowing tones, which resounded uncannily through those dim rocky
corridors, he begged the spirit of the flames to take care of his
people and protect them from wild beasts and the storm-wind. And the
blazes, which flashed and crackled gustily, seemed to be signaling
an encouraging reply; the flickering sparks gaily spoke a bright
message; and the glowing faces of the people, obscurely seen in that
smoky gloom, were overspread with a light and a fervor like that of
worshipers in a temple.
On and on Zunzun rambled, on and on in tones constantly more charged
with emotion; and he told the fire-god of all that his people had
suffered, and how they languished and grew thin in the long months of
winter, and how they craved a warmth and plenty they had never found,
and how they always begged the god of the sunshine to beam upon them
with more light and heat--but how the god of the sunshine had never
heard.
Before Zunzun had finished, his gleaming black eyes had grown soft and
moist, and his plea was no longer a solitary one, but rather was spoken
in chorus. At first singly, and then in groups, his hearers joined him,
all shouting their appeal to the fire-god, and all taking care to shout
their loudest, so that the god must pause and listen. For a while--so
intense was the fervor of the people--one could have heard nothing but
a din of discordant screams and yells, in which no single word was
distinguishable. But after a time, sobered by something domineering in
the tones of Zunzun, the straining voices were modulated and blended
together, so that they clamored in a sort of rude rhythm, almost a
chant of entreaty; and, following the lead of the Marvel-Worker, they
chorused: "Hear us, O fire-god, hear us! Light us the way to warmer
lands! Fill our days with feasts and make them comfortable! Let your
great heat singe and kill our foes, the wolf, the bear, and the wind
from the snow-land! Help us, O fire-god, for we are in need of you!"
And after the voices had stormed and pleaded for many minutes, at times
wailing in anguish and at times rising to a sobbing crescendo, Zunzun
finally snapped into silence--and the tumultuous mob followed his lead,
though now many eyes were tear-stained, and many eyes shone with an
unwonted brightness.
But grave were the tones of Zunzun as he eloquently beckoned toward the
flames, and murmured: "Now surely, my people, the fire-god has heard
us. So let us ask him if he is of a mind to do as we wish."
In contrast to the pandemonium of a moment before, an absolute
stillness had come over the assemblage. A hundred pairs of black eyes
were staring questioningly at Zunzun; a hundred mouths were agape with
wonder, but uttered no word. Even Grumgra the Growling Wolf stood as if
transfixed, and had nothing to say; even Woonoo the Hot-Blooded and Bru
the Scowling-Faced watched meekly as babes and ventured not a grunt,
while the awe in their gaze was equal to that in the gaze of a child.
Meanwhile the Marvel-Worker was performing a curious ceremony. Bending
down to the ground, he scooped a half-burnt oaken limb out of the
flames; then, having beaten out the last trace of fire, he began to
examine it with slow and painstaking scrutiny. Just what there was
to observe was more than any onlooker could have said, but Zunzun
apparently saw plenty to inspect, for he regarded that charred bit of
wood with the furrowed brow and intent expression of one who reads some
puzzling but important document. And at length--while his fellows still
stood gazing at him in silence--he nodded his head as if satisfied,
rose slowly to a stooping position, and opened his mouth to speak.
"The fire-god says he is here with us," he declared, reassuringly. "He
has heard our plea, and will go with us to help us on our long journey."
At this a thankful tumult burst forth; and many were the murmurs
of gratitude and relief. Some of the hearers, in their joy, threw
congratulatory arms about their neighbors' necks; others literally
howled with delight; one or two attempted a sort of rude, sidling
dance; and more than one voice was uplifted to praise the name of
Zunzun the Marvel-Worker.
But amid that happy demonstration, there came a single dissenting
note. "How do you know? How do you know, Zunzun?" rang forth a clear
voice--the voice of Ru. "Just what did the fire-god say? And how did
you find out?"
But his words were drowned amid a chorus of hisses and jeers; and the
Marvel-Worker, casting a disdainful glance in the direction of his
challenger, did not deem it necessary to reply.
Instead, turning to address the people, he directed: "Let us show our
thanks to the fire-god. Let us all make him an offering."
And every man, woman and child snatched up dried fagots and twigs and
flung them into the flames, with fervid cries of "Thank you, fire-god!
May the fire-god burn forever!"
And the fire, as if in gratitude, flared and crackled more vigorously
than ever; and all the assembled people joined hands in a mighty circle
about the flames, and began to swing back and forth, back and forth,
and leap and caper like children, while shouting with religious zeal,
"Thank you, fire-god! We will always serve you and bear you offerings!
May the fire-god burn forever!"