_A New Misadventure_
For three days following the bear-chasing exploit, Ru was as much
sought after as he had previously been shunned. It was as if his people
now felt him to be the possessor of some unique and supernatural power;
as if they believed him to be in league with unseen but mighty spirits,
whose friendship was at all costs to be won. And since the obvious way
to court such friendship was through courting Ru, he was showered with
attentions where of old he had met only neglect. Four or five of his
kinsmen were at all times ready to go chattering at his side whether
or not he desired their company; and, when he sat down to rest at the
end of the day's migration, there was always someone to approach with
flattering words and seek either to wheedle out of him the secret of
the firebrand, or else to beg some charm that would give protection
against the fire-god. Even the young women of the tribe--Mono the
Budding Tree, Sizz-O the Serpent-Tongued, and others--cast admiring,
half-inviting glances toward him from beneath their high-ridged bushy
brows; while more than once Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed approached with
jests and laughter that scarcely availed to break down his sullen
silence.
For he was still disdainful of his people--as disdainful of them as
they had been of him. Brooding upon the wound on his breast, whose
cross-shaped ghastly scar was as a mark of shame, he distrusted their
vows of friendship; he suspected that at heart they loved him no better
than before. And so, although at times in his loneliness he longed to
dash down the barriers at a stroke and be one with his people as of
old, yet his pride and wounded sensibilities combined to keep open that
rift which his own peculiarities and Grumgra's hatred had created.
But after three days, he suffered a fall at once sudden and
disconcerting. And the indirect cause of the misfortune was a lack of
that caution which, had he been but a little wiser, he would surely
have exercised. One evening he was seated in a lonely corner of the
encampment, experimenting before his own little fire with some long
sticks and a mass of tallow, when suddenly he became conscious of two
gleaming black eyes peering at him from amid the shrubbery. At the
instant of his discovery, the eyes disappeared, and he could not be
sure whose they were nor how long they had been watching; but an hour
later the unhappy sequel told him all that he desired to know.
It was late twilight, and he was seated in the midst of the tribe,
chewing eagerly at the roasted ribs of a wild horse, when Woonoo the
Hot-Blooded came strutting from behind a clump of shrubbery, waving
a brilliant yellow torch--almost precisely like the torch of Ru's
invention! And behind Woonoo towered Grumgra, wielding a similar but
very much larger torch! They both moved without a word to the center
of the encampment, while scores of gaping men and women paused between
bites to stare at them in awestricken wonder.
At length, mounting the recumbent trunk of a huge dead tree, Grumgra
began to speak in his usual bellowing voice.
"One of our people," he commenced, without formality, "has just done
a great deed. He has learned how to make the fire-god work for us. He
has given us these fire-sticks you see now." Here Grumgra swung the
torch about his head in scintillating circles. "After this, we may all
have fire-sticks to help us in our hunting. Is it not strange magic,
my people? This magic was made by one of our bravest men--one of the
wisest and biggest of us all--Woonoo the Hot-Blooded!"
Grumgra paused, and a tumult of excited gibbering signified the
applause of the audience. Ru, trembling with anger, noted an admiring
gleam in the eyes of Yonyo as she glanced toward the Hot-Blooded; and
at the same time Grumgra continued in words that scorched him to the
heart.
"There is another of our people," resumed the Growling Wolf, in tones
that justified his name, "who would have us think him a friend of the
fire-god. But this man is really like a worm; he is not strong at all,
and did not make the fire-stick. For the fire-god is mighty and would
not help a half-man like the Sparrow-Hearted--"
"Lies! Lies!" screamed Ru, springing to his feet in a quivering frenzy.
"All lies! I was the one that made the fire-stick! I was the one--"
But his words were drowned by a chorus of hisses and hoots. He felt
someone seizing him from behind; he was thrust brutally to earth; while
on all sides rang the jeering laughter of his fellows.
Released from the bruising hands, Ru crawled away like one in a
nightmare. As he reached the outer fringe of shadows, he could still
see the monstrous form of Grumgra waving the flaming brand, and just
beneath him the huge but smaller fire-wielding shape of Woonoo; while
dozens of grimacing hairy faces, shining with apelike grins and
contortions in the unsteady light, seemed to burn and glow maliciously
as the taunting faces of imps.
And thus ended the three-day reign of Ru. Thus ended that power which
he had won by his wits, and lost by his carelessness. Henceforth he
was to be again the despised, the outcast, the butt of derision, the
solitary wanderer; henceforth he was to hear that hated appellation,
"Sparrow-Hearted," dinned again and again into his ears, and was to be
shunned by his people, and most of all by her, the tantalizing, the
Smiling-Eyed.
All the rest of that night no one came near him; and all the following
day he roamed by himself, no longer sought by the gay, chattering
groups; and the merriment that rang about him from the forest recesses
burdened him with melancholy thoughts. A feeling of sadness and of
desolation was upon him and would not be shaken off, a sense of
frustration, of anger and of futility. He would scarcely have known how
to laugh even had he had someone to laugh with; and in the brooding
silence of the woods and the overshadowing gloom of the hills and crags
he found but little compensation for the scorn in the eyes of Yonyo and
the sneer in the eyes of his kinsmen.
But if he had fallen from his momentary high estate, his present
troubles were as nothing beside those which awaited him after another
day or two.
Having kept close to the Harr-Sizz River for scores of miles, following
its innumerable twists and turns and serpent-like convolutions, the
tribe was unexpectedly confronted with the necessity of crossing the
stream; for the waters turned abruptly northward in a long, unbending
line, and Mumlo the Trail-Finder insisted that the land they sought lay
toward the mountains in the direction of the noonday sun.
While a tumultuous throng clung to the bank shouting directions,
several of the men began to wade into the stream, seeking a suitable
spot for fording. The river at this point was fairly wide, and seemed
to be correspondingly shallow; yet its current was rapid and angry, and
gurgled past in a steadily moving muddy torrent. As a result, not a few
of the men were buffeted off their feet; and, except for the fact that
they were unimpeded by clothing, they would hardly have been able to
force their way back to safety.
But despite innumerable setbacks, they persisted. And at length Mumlo,
moving some distance down-stream, found the point where he claimed to
have crossed before. The stream here was perhaps double its average
width and much more shallow than in most locations; yet it was not
quite so shallow as the more timid might have desired, and in places
the waters came well over Mumlo's shoulders.
But there was little chance for hesitation. Straight into the stream
plunged the men, their shoulders bent beneath the weight of the rapidly
diminishing provisions; and straight after them followed the women and
children in a shouting, splashing rabble. Some--particularly among the
younger folk--seemed to take the crossing as a pleasant sport, and
leaped and pranced in the waters like aquatic animals; others screwed
up their beady little eyes into an expression of extreme gravity, and
peered out across that broad flowing expanse with no sign of relish.
Toward the center of the stream, the shorter tribesfolk lost connection
with the bottom and had to trust to their swimming ability; and this
they did with invariable success, although one or two of the children
seemed in danger of being washed away and were saved only by the timely
outthrust of a parental arm. As for the infants, of whom there were
well over a score, they were carried on the shoulders of the tallest
men, where, screaming with terror and clinging with a grip that showed
no sign of relaxing, they were perhaps safer than their older brothers
and sisters.
One of the last to attempt the crossing was Ru, who had been loitering
near the bank examining a shrub whose flexible stem seemed well fitted
for the long-distance weapon he was planning. It was only when he
feared being left behind that he tore himself away; and when at last
he plunged into the water, he was in a great hurry to make up for lost
time, and recklessly swam almost the entire distance.
Half exhausted, he was about to clamber up the opposite bank, when
he saw two pairs of familiar eyes peering at him in malicious glee.
At a glance, he realized that Woonoo the Hot-Blooded and Kuff the
Bear-Hunter could mean him no good; but he could not imagine what evil
design they might have. And, at all events, he had no choice except to
attempt to pull himself up the moist, slippery rocks as though nothing
were amiss.
But he very speedily learned what was in the minds of Kuff and Woonoo.
With one accord, as though following a prearranged plan, they reached
out their powerful arms, seized Ru about the neck and shoulders, and
flung him back into the river. And, as he descended with a splash and
felt the flood racing above him, their guffaws rang loud and heartily
through the startled woods.
Panting, and half choked with the water he had swallowed, Ru rose to
his feet and started unsteadily back to the bank. He did not suppose
that his fellows would repeat the prank--the first time, it might be
excused as a joke; but, if continued, it would turn into something more
serious than a friendly bit of sport.
So, although both exhausted and angry, Ru tried to take the little game
in the proper spirit and to grin. But his effort was a feeble one, and
failed woefully.... With renewed guffaws, Kuff and Woonoo ran to meet
him as he struggled up the bank; the next he knew, he had felt the
irresistible arms gripping him again, had gone flying through space,
and had splashed once more into the strangling flood.
Recovering himself with an effort, Ru stood for a moment breast-deep
in the water, staring furiously at the impish, grimacing faces of
his persecutors. He was now convinced that they were ready to repeat
their pranks time after time; consequently, he sought to elude them
by swimming to a little projection of land about a hundred yards
down-stream. But, upon arriving, he found to his dismay that they were
there awaiting him. And, not content with merely waiting, they were
wading after him into the stream, forcing him to retreat hastily toward
the center.
By this time, half a dozen spectators had gathered to watch the
sport. With titters and chuckles of raucous mirth they encouraged
Kuff and Woonoo, meanwhile joining in boisterously by jeering the
Sparrow-Hearted with every evil-sounding name at their command. And
after a minute one of the more audacious spirits, not to be satisfied
with mere words, picked up a pebble and ostentatiously flung it at Ru,
who was now standing waist-deep a dozen yards from shore, undecided how
to attempt another landing.
With a splash, the pebble disappeared in the water just to Ru's rear.
And a chorus of gleeful shouts broke forth as Ru turned with a start
to see what had happened. Immediately several of the men, quick to
seize upon ideas, profited from the example; and in another instant Ru
was the center of a little shower of missiles. Most of them vanished
into the water without effect, but one of them struck his arm with a
painful thud, to the immense amusement of his tormentors; and so many
stones were whirling through the air and splashing in the water that Ru
took the one obvious course, which was to make with all possible speed
toward the center of the stream.
But his withdrawal lent additional zest to the amused chorus on the
bank, as well as additional speed to the stones that pursued him. So
insistent was the bombardment that he had to press on and on through
the deepening torrent, until at length the bottom slipped from beneath
him and he had no choice except to swim.
But his tribesmen did not seem to know when they had had enough of a
joke. Although by this time Ru was so exhausted that he could barely
keep afloat, the mood of entertainment that possessed the spectators
was far from satisfied. Not realizing or not caring what grave results
threatened, they continued to pelt Ru gleefully, following him along
the bank as he drifted down-stream, and all the while jeering him to
their hearts' content.
Ru meantime was engaged in what promised to be a life-or-death
struggle. Again and again he felt the powerful swirling torrent
breaking over him, and only with an effort lifted his head for a
reviving breath. Again and again he swallowed huge gulps of the muddy
water, and heard a muffled roaring like a death-threat in his ears;
while, in his terror, he had visions of huge strangling arms reaching
out for him from the depths and dragging him down as he had once seen a
stag dragged down by the quicksands.
He heard no more the gibes and taunts of the mob on the bank, heard
no more the splashing of the stones; he was waging a desperate fight
against the current, which was narrower here and much swifter than
where his tribe had crossed--and the current was winning the battle.
His panting heart was straining in vain, his tugging muscles pulled
feebly against the gigantic body of the water; his bulging eyes were
staring in a last agony at the vague, rushing shore; louder and louder
dinned the drumming in his ears, more insistent the force of that
pounding, suffocating fury that broke over his head; he floundered and
lunged, rose again and sank, slowly rose again and sank, while over
him came a maddening, baffling longing for air.... Then strange lights
and shadows were wavering about him, something dark and formless was
bearing down upon him--and, the next he knew, his fingers were clinging
to some great and solid object.
Opening his eyes, he felt himself returning by degrees to life, and
realized that he was gripping the floating trunk of a dead tree, which
was bearing him swiftly down-stream toward an unknown expanse of blue
water.