_The Wrath of Grumgra_
It was a doleful band of migrants that stood revealed in the first
dreary light of morning. Shivering and drenched, with soggy fur-mantles
and rain-soaked skins from which the slow water dripped and dripped,
they looked like beasts just returned from a perilous plunge; and
little trace of their usual energy was apparent as they mournfully
wandered across the miry soil, or lugubriously eyed their disheveled
fellows. More than one bruised arm or gashed thigh or wrenched shoulder
bore witness to the panicky scuffle of the night; several of the
people were nursing blackened eyes or feeling sullenly at jaws that
displayed new-made gaps; while one of the most woebegone of all was he
who exhibited an enormous swelling on the head--due to the terror of a
kinsman who, mistaking him for a wild beast in the dark, had struck him
with a club.
But these were the least of the casualties. In the soft soil at the
edge of the encampment, ill-omened five-clawed footprints were to be
seen; and in one or two places a new-made crimson patch caused even the
most hardy to tremble. Too well the people read the dread meaning!--but
at first they had no idea who the victims were, nor even how many
victims there had been. In loud-voiced anxiety, each man and woman
began to search and cry out for those nearest to him--so that for a
while the pandemonium was as great as during the storm. Half-crazed
mothers raced about calling stray children; stray children screamed
and bawled for missing mothers; great brawny males went searching with
angry eyes for their unseen mates, and frenzied women begged for word
of their absent men; friend stared into the turbulent mob for lost
friend, and wild-eyed striplings for vanished maids; and now and then
there would be a scream of exultation as two who had given up hope were
reunited.
As time went by, most of the missing were found, for some had gone
unobserved amid the blatant mob, and some had taken to the trees in
their terror and one by one had returned. But after two or three hours,
there were still several who remained unaccounted for; and these
included two men, a woman, and three children.
Although it was not the nature of the Umbaddu to give themselves up
to orgies of lamentation, still the loss of six persons--particularly
when these included two able-bodied men--was recognized as a matter of
importance. It was regarded, indeed, almost as a public misfortune,
and, in accordance with a custom handed down from remotest times, had
to be investigated before a council of the entire tribe. For it was the
belief of the Umbaddu that no full-grown man ever came to his death
except through the agency of evil spirits: hence, whenever a man died
unaccountably, the evil spirit had to be discovered and his human agent
appropriately punished.
No one was surprised, therefore, when, instead of ordering the
migration continued, Grumgra began the day by giving instructions for a
tribal conference. There was not so much as a thought of protest--and
when at length the excitement of the night had died away and all hope
had been surrendered for the missing ones, the survivors gathered in a
wet and bedraggled and yet eagerly chattering group on the damp grass
of the meadow.
Just a trace of apprehension, however, flitted across the frowning
faces when the stooping form of Zunzun the Marvel-Worker was observed
beside the bearlike hulk of Grumgra. And no pleasure lighted the scores
of staring black eyes when, after crushing some grass-stalks between
his fingers and scrutinizing them speculatively, Zunzun turned to the
chieftain and slowly announced: "O Grumgra, I can see from the green
color of the grass that evil spirits are abroad. We must find out
who it was that caused the rain to fall, and who it was that put the
blood-fury into the claws of the wild beasts--and him we must punish!"
"Yes, him we must punish!" echoed Grumgra, with malevolent relish.
And every man turned to eye his fellows fearfully--for who could say
that his closest friend might not have harbored the evil spirits? or
who could say that the wise ones might not make a mistake and punish
the wrong man?
"Someone has angered the fire-god and made it go out!" roared Grumgra,
in the tones of an accusing judge--and all his hearers quailed and
instinctively withdrew. "Someone has angered the fire-god! Who can it
be?"
For a moment there was silence, while the audience gazed furtively at
the trees, at the grass, at the river--at all things but the terrible
eyes of Grumgra and the bewitching eyes of Zunzun.
"Then if no one will speak, we will find out!" shouted the chieftain.
"Zunzun the Marvel-Worker will ask the spirits of the woods, and they
will tell him!"
Whereupon Zunzun began to bob up and down, up and down, as though in
prayer to some unseen divinity. First he would touch the grass with
his outstretched palms, then he would rise as far as his stooping
posture would permit and fling his grizzled arms heavenward; then he
would bow down again and repeat the ceremony time after time, all the
while mumbling and muttering, "Nunc, nunco, no, nuncu, nunco, no," in a
jargon unintelligible even to his hearers.
But the spectators, although they did not understand, were immensely
impressed. The scores of ferret eyes were riveted upon the
Marvel-Worker; the powerful jaws gaped wide with wonder; now and then a
tremor of fear crossed the furry countenances.
At length, apparently feeling that his antics had sufficed to appease
the wood-gods, Zunzun sought rest from his strenuous exertions, and,
turning to Grumgra, whispered a few words that none of the tribe could
catch.
But whatever it was that Zunzun confided, Grumgra was evidently well
pleased. A broad smile softened his brutish face; into his gleaming
little eyes there came a light as of sly enjoyment.
Not a murmur flitted through the assemblage as Grumgra strode sullenly
forward, and lifted his club in token of command.
"Zunzun has found out the evil one's name!" he snapped; then he stopped
short to give his announcement time to penetrate.
"The evil one is sitting among us now!" continued Grumgra, in
portentous tones; then once more he stopped short, while each man
peered at his neighbor suspiciously.
"Shall I tell you who the evil one is?" he proceeded, with the manner
of one who anticipates a pleasant announcement. "Shall I tell you?"
"Tell us! Tell us!" came an eager chorus.
"Listen then, and I shall tell!" assented Grumgra. And, after another
pause, he thrust his left hand out accusingly. "There is the evil one!
There he is! There he is!"
Dozens of eyes, straining to see, observed that the condemning finger
was pointed straight at Ru.
"It's a lie!" shouted Ru, springing furiously to his feet. "A lie, a
lie--"
But before he could complete his denial, powerful hands had seized him,
and he was struggling, kicking, tearing and biting, all to no avail, in
an over-mastering grip.
And while the crowd cackled and gibbered in glee, Grumgra scornfully
announced: "I have found out all that the Sparrow-Hearted has done.
He made wicked magic last night. He does not fight before our eyes
like other men--he runs away, and then works his evil like a crawling
serpent behind our backs. While we were all asleep, he spoke with the
wind-god and the gods of the clouds, and told them to put out the
fire-god. Also, he called to the bad spirits of the woods, and told
them to catch and eat our people. This the bad spirits did--and for
this Ru must suffer!"
Here Grumgra paused again, while breathlessly the people awaited the
sentence he was to pronounce, and Ru, heavily panting and more than
half exhausted, still strained uselessly in the arms of his persecutors.
"If it were anyone but the Sparrow-Hearted," Grumgra resumed, tapping
his club significantly, "I would have him slain--no, I would slay him
with my own hands! But who wants to wring the neck of a sparrow? And so
I will not kill him this time--"
Murmurs of disappointment were beginning to be heard from several
quarters; but Grumgra, with a ferocious frown, hastened to reassure his
people.
"I do not mean that we shall not punish him. I shall not hit him with
my club, for do we not need all our men to help us in the hunt?--but
until he lies down for his last sleep he shall bear the marks of his
bad deeds. He has put out the fire-god by making the rain come--and
so the fire-god must take vengeance. Go, my people, gather new fagots
and light the fires again; then let us scorch black marks upon the
Sparrow-Hearted's throat, that all men may see and know of his shame!"
Delighted titters expressed the approval of the audience; and at the
same time a growl half of rage and half of agony issued from the throat
of Ru. But a huge mud-caked hand, thrust savagely across his mouth,
stifled his protest in mid-career; and while he squirmed and struggled
ineffectively in the arms of his captors, he could see several of his
tribesmen darting about with great zest to gather fagots and flints.
But it proved to be no easy matter to make a fire--the wood was wet,
and would not burn. And while the delay prolonged Ru's torments, it
gave him a vague hope and a bitter satisfaction to watch his fellows
sweat and toil to no avail, pounding the flints furiously together
and kindling spark after spark that invariably vanished in thin air.
Hours went by, and no fire was made; by degrees his persecutors wearied
of holding him, and their oaths became terrible to hear; while the
dismayed people began to murmur that Ru had bewitched the fire-god.
As time wore on, it became apparent that the migration could not be
resumed before the following morning--the punishment of Ru had cost
an entire day. But Grumgra seemed determined that, regardless of the
waste of time, Ru should be punished; and as he strode pugnaciously
from group to group, swinging his club and snarling at the unsuccessful
fire-makers, it seemed likely that if Ru did not suffer someone else
would. Once, indeed, the chieftain went so far as to lunge viciously at
the skull of a particularly careless handler of the flints; and, after
the intended victim had escaped by the fraction of an inch, his fellow
workers applied themselves scrupulously, but none the less with one eye
furtively upon Grumgra.
Time was to lend their labors success. The sun had come out somewhat
hesitatingly that morning; but though he worked slowly he worked
surely; and after a few hours, some of the fagots had become reasonably
dry. Thus it happened that, when the afternoon was already old, the
people saw the bright flames once more leaping and crackling in the
center of their encampment.
And now came the eagerly awaited event. With the excitement of
spectators at some rare entertainment, the tribespeople gathered to
see the punishment of Ru. All eyes gleamed and glittered in greedy
pleasure, and all lips uttered exclamations of joy, when at length the
culprit was dragged and shoved toward the flames. Despite his small
physique and the strain and exhaustion of the last few hours, Ru was
fighting like a wildcat. Some new and almost superhuman strength
seemed to have come into him, now that the fires flashed so near; four
of his larger kinsmen were needed to hold that furiously writhing,
squirming little form; and the blackening eyes of two of the men showed
the marks of his outthrust fists and feet, while on the arm of another
was a gaping red gash where the captive's teeth had wrought angry
vengeance.
But the vehemence of Ru's resistance only whetted the enthusiasm
of the mob. Added to the anticipated delight of the burning, there
was the unexpected pleasure of a fight--a spirited fight, with all
the zest of reality! Hence the people crowded close for a glimpse
of the wild-eyed, convulsed form of Ru; hence they jeered and gibed
in raucous glee when, in the unequal scuffle, he was hopelessly on
the bottom; and they held their breath and gaped when at times he
wriggled free of some encompassing arm and appeared about to escape
altogether. No hint of pity for him issued from those tense, thick
lips, no murmur of encouragement, or of admiration at his desperate
struggle; the women looked on as intently and as cold-eyed as the
men; and the children--whenever they could squeeze close enough for
a glimpse--stared at the condemned one as dispassionately as their
elders. Even when crimson patches appeared on his face and his nose
spouted blood, there was not a tremor of sympathy or regret; even when,
in the frenzy of the combat, his deerskin robe slipped off and he was
left with only his hairy natural covering, there was not a murmur
of revulsion or horror. But with the sporting aloofness of men who
watch two cocks tearing one another to bits, the tribespeople saw Ru
gradually beaten and bruised into a bloody submission.
At last, having put forth all the effort of which human flesh is
capable, he lay sweating and panting on the ground, while a bulky
kinsman sat across his outspread legs, and two others held his hands
pinioned. About him, like voices in an evil dream, he could hear the
expectant gibbering of the multitude; above him, he could view a blur
of faces, evil faces gleaming with a cruel joy; to his left, when he
turned his bloodshot eyes aside, he could see Woonoo the Hot-Blooded
holding a long pointed stick in the flames.
But he was almost past seeing or caring. His senses were deserting him;
he hardly knew who he was or where; the world seemed to be whirling and
whirling around, and he was as though floating somewhere far away in a
fog that would not lift.
He was aroused to full consciousness by the sight of a glowing
something dangled just above his eyes. It was the red-hot stick, which
Woonoo had thrust meaningly before him; and just above it shone a
multitude of fiery eager faces, disdainful and compassionless as the
glaring brand itself.
And as once more there surged across him the frenzied desire to escape,
he was stabbed by sight of that which was more cruel even than the
searing flames. Two well-known eyes, enticing and distracting eyes,
were isolated suddenly amid that confused throng, beaming upon him as
if in pleasure, in ridicule, in amused contempt....
Some there were who afterwards claimed to have heard him murmur, in
wounded tones, "Yonyo! Yonyo!" But they could not be sure; perhaps
it was but the fumings of a crazed mind. At all events, his words
were drowned instantly by the hissing of scorched hair and flesh, and
by a scream so horrible that even the most bloodthirsty quailed and
shuddered.
And while the victim lay moaning on the ground, writhing and twisting
like a worm that has been trodden upon, the curious pressed forward and
observed a huge black mark upon his neck and chest--a black mark which
took the form of a rude cross.