_The Magic of the River-God_
The disastrous failure of Kimo the Hairy Mammoth had more than one
interesting sequel for Ru.
Not least important was the change it marked in his relations with
Yonyo. Only a few hours after Kimo's fatal effort at navigation, Ru
encountered Yonyo at the edge of the meadow where the tribe was still
encamped. She was obviously glad to see him; her sharp black eyes shone
with pleasure; her broad dark face grew bright with sudden smiles.
"Ru, you have done wonders!" she commended him. "Only you are loved by
the river-god! No other can do as you do! No, not one--"
Here she stopped suddenly short, for the look in his face was not
reassuring.
For a moment he stood staring at her as a man might stare at the foe he
is about to throttle. His nostrils were dilated; his breath came fast;
his fingers were clenched significantly about his club.
"Ru, what evil spirit has entered you?" she cried, in alarm.
But her words seemed only to provide the spur he required. With an
inchoate growl, he strode suddenly forward; and his club, clenched
more tightly than ever, was uplifted as if to strike.
Yonyo screamed, and darted away. Too often had she seen women
struck--too often not to believe Ru in earnest. Without even a backward
glance to see if she were pursued, she raced all the way back to her
tribespeople.
With a black scowl, Ru stood staring after her. He did not know whether
he would actually have hit her; he only knew that a blow would have
been small repayment for all she had made him suffer. And, strange to
say, a feeling of self-satisfaction, almost of exultation, came over
him as he watched her flee; he felt strong with a strength he had never
known before; he was almost ready to swagger with triumph, for now at
last he, the Sparrow-Hearted, was acting as a man should act!
It did not even occur to him to wonder whether, by his wrath, he might
not have alienated Yonyo altogether. At the moment, he did not care.
Moreover, had he not often watched beaten women come cringing back to
their men?
But before the issue between him and the Smiling-Eyed could be decided,
he was confronted with a second result of Kimo's unhappy experiment.
On the evening of the following day, Ru was surprised to find himself
again the center of attraction before the tribal camp-fire. It was
a time of general complaining and gloom, for another hunt had just
been held in order to replenish the tribe's dwindling larder; and the
hunters had suffered more heavily than the hunted, for while one small
deer had been brought down, two of the men had succumbed before the
charge of an infuriated woolly rhinoceros.
Among the women there were lamentations, and among the children cries
of hunger, as the tribe engaged in its meager repast of roots and
berries seasoned with just a sprinkling of meat. The only exception
occurred in the case of Grumgra, who feasted abundantly on the day's
catch of venison.
But Grumgra's right to a major part of the supplies was taken as a part
of the necessary order of things, and occasioned no comment; and it
had nothing to do with the cries of discontent that shrilled from all
sides, "What are we to do? What is to become of us, what is to become
of us?" mourned some of the more dismal-minded folk; and many were the
complaints that they had left the safety of their cave behind them, and
many the prayers to the fire-god, the wind-god, and the gods of the
woods and waters.
Seldom had Ru seen his people in so despondent a mood. Here, sprawled
in the long grass before the fire, a three-year-old was wailing, or
a scrawny infant screaming for food its mother could not give it;
yonder an old man mumbled and muttered about the plenty he had known
in the old days; a little farther on, a haggard group sat chattering,
with occasional groans and sighs audible to the entire assemblage;
and now and then, from any corner of the encampment, there would come
a series of growls and frightful snarls, when some man would snatch
at a bone being chewed by his neighbor, and the two would fight like
famished dogs. But no one paid any heed to such scuffles, nor to the
lamentations of his neighbors; and the firelight, leaping and wavering
like some menacing giant, illuminated only sullen apelike faces, and
heavy brows contorted in dreary scowls, and lips that grumbled, and
eyes that spoke in silent complaint.
"Grumgra, come help us!" pleaded many a voice that had tired of vainly
invoking the gods of fire, water, and air. "Grumgra, come tell us what
to do! Shall we not go back to our cave? If we stay here we shall
starve, and our children will die; and soon there will be only our
bones to be picked by the vulture and the hyena."
At first Grumgra made only brusk answer to these appeals. "Zunzun
the Marvel-Worker will help you!" he snapped. And Zunzun, coming
unwillingly to the rescue, took his place before the fire. With his
most eloquent gesticulations, he begged and implored the god of the
flames to rescue his people; but even after he had worked himself into
a frenzy and puffed and sweated profusely, there was no sign that the
god had heard him.
Then, with unheard-of temerity, one of the men began to shout: "We do
not need the fire-god! We need the river-god!" And Zunzun, although
apparently he had had enough of magic for one evening, was compelled
to execute a series of new incantations addressed to the god of the
waters.
After he had finished, and while a few of his followers still chanted
the prayers devoutly, Zunzun was seen to approach Grumgra as if on
secret business. For some minutes the two of them sat in a group apart,
talking eagerly in low tones and lifting their clubs threateningly
whenever anyone ventured too close.
At length Grumgra sprang up decisively, and stalked energetically
toward the fire. "My people, I must have speech with you!" he declared,
in his usual bellow.
A murmur of excitement trembled through the assemblage, and all drew
close to hear.
"We must all go away from here very soon," he announced, after a
moment's pause. "The land of the noonday sun still lies before us; and
the river must not stop us, for if we stay here, we will all starve. Is
it not so, my people?"
A chorus of groans and sighs signified the agreement of the tribe.
"But how shall we cross the river?" Grumgra continued. "The river-god
must show us the way--and there is only one of us that the river-god
loves. That one is Ru the Sparrow-Hearted. We must ask Ru to speak to
the river-god, so that we may go across. Tell us, Sparrow-Hearted, will
you speak to the river-god?"
And the chieftain lifted the club high above his head, as if to
indicate that a refusal on Ru's part would be summarily treated.
Rising from where he sat among the shadows to the rear, Ru strode
forward until the firelight was full upon him.
"I will speak to the river-god," he began, while scores of serious
little eyes, burning with a new eagerness, were fixed intently upon his
slender form. "If you will do all that I tell you, I will find out how
to take you across the river. But if you will not do as I tell you, the
river-god will devour you! You remember what he did to Kimo the Hairy
Mammoth, do you not, my people?"
Grumbled exclamations of fear and horror signified that the people had
not forgotten.
"I am the only one that can speak to the river-god," Ru continued,
severely. "I know a magic that will save you. But if I use that magic,
what will you do for me?"
Ru paused; a hard glitter came into his eyes. "If I use that magic,
what will you do for me?" he repeated, with the manner of one that
strikes a shrewd bargain.
"What do you want us to do for you?" growled Grumgra, his thick lips
twisting into a snarl. "There is nothing we can give. Would you have us
throw you the meat we have not?"
"It is not meat I ask!" flung back Ru. "It is something I like better
than meat!"
Scores of eyes were fixed upon him in uncomprehending amazement, while
earnestly he continued: "For a long, long time, my people, you have not
treated me as a brother should be treated. You have said bad things
against me, and struck me with sticks and stones, and burned me with
fire; and there has been evil laughter in your eyes when you did not
understand the things I did. And deep within me there has been a great
pain; but you could not see it or know it was there. If I help you,
should you not try to take that pain away? Should you not show me that
you will treat me as a brother?"
"How can we show you?" grumbled the chieftain, fumbling with his club
impatiently. "You ask that which no man can do!"
"I ask that which every man can do!" insisted Ru. "Always you have
called me by a name which does not belong to me, and which I do not
like. Take that name away, and call me by my right name--and I will ask
the river-god to do great things for you. If not--" Here Ru paused, as
if to indicate that, unless his request were granted, the gods would
avenge him.
"And what does the Sparrow-Hearted want to be called?" sneered Grumgra.
"The Eagle-Hearted!" replied Ru, without an instant's hesitation.
A little murmur of surprise ran through the assemblage.
"The Sparrow-Hearted cannot become the Eagle-Hearted just because he
asks it!" thundered the Growling Wolf, glowering menacingly.
"And our people cannot cross the river just because they ask it!"
countered Ru, retreating far enough to escape the swinging club.
"Call him the Eagle-Hearted, the Eagle-Hearted, the Eagle-Hearted!
Only let him do as we want!" came a multitude of shouting voices.
Grumgra stood hesitating; it was easy to see that public sentiment was
against him.
"What matter what we call him? Only let him take us across the river!"
cried Zunzun the Marvel-Worker. "The Eagle-Hearted let it be!"
"Take us across the river, and you shall be Ru the Eagle-Hearted!"
pronounced Grumgra, for once without his usual assurance.
And Ru, with an acquiescent smile, assured his people that they should
not have long to wait before crossing the waters.
Early the following morning, Ru was observed to go gliding away into
the woods. Toward noon he returned, but not directly from the woods;
once more he astonished his people by "walking on the waters." Borne on
a raft similar to that on which he had made his spectacular appearance
a few days before, he first drifted slowly down-stream, then vigorously
propelled himself landward; and, drawing his new creation to the bank
by the side of the original craft, he paid no heed to the murmurs and
exclamations of the watching throng, but burst at once into fervent
prayer.
"O river-god," he cried, "I thank you for making me your friend and
doing wonderful things for me. Take care of my people, as you have
taken care of me; let them cross your waters, as you have let me cross;
show them the way to the land of the noonday sun!"
Having uttered these words, Ru flung himself down on the ground, and
began to mutter incoherently. No one could make out what he said; but
the spectators gaped wide-eyed; and perplexity and fear were in their
looks.
Suddenly breaking short his unintelligible mumblings, Ru leaped to his
feet, and spoke in loud, clear tones: "My people, I have been talking
with the river-god. Do you wish to know what he has told me?"
A loud-voiced chorus signified that the people did wish to know.
"He says that you may all cross the waters if you will let me show you
how," Ru assured them. "But if you do not do as I tell you, the god
will put an evil spell upon you all!"
"We will do as you tell us! We will do as you tell us!" the people
avowed.
"First you must wear a charm," Ru continued--and in his gray eyes, as
he spoke, was a sly twinkle, which no one appeared to observe. "You
must each take a pebble from the river bank and tie it to you, so that
the god may know who you are and use his magic for you."
Very solemnly every man, woman, and child--from Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed
to Zunzun and the stern-browed Grumgra--reached down and selected a
pebble, which they slowly and clumsily attached to their garments by
means of strips of hide and the fibers of plants.
Following this ceremony, Ru again muttered a few meaningless phrases;
then, having done everything necessary to propitiate the god, he
declared: "Now I will show you how to cross the river. Who wants to be
the first to find out how?"
A frightened silence greeted these words.
"Kori the Running Deer, you go with the Sparrow-Hearted," designated
Grumgra.
"My name is the Eagle-Hearted!" corrected Ru, scowling a black scowl.
"The Eagle-Hearted," acknowledged Grumgra, also scowling.
Kori the Running Deer came slowly forward. He was an especially slender
and wiry-looking tribesman; his muscles were stout and powerful, yet he
had not the ox-like build of most of the Umbaddu.
He seemed to realize at once the uselessness of protest. "Tell me what
to do, Ru, and I will try to do it," he declared, as he stopped within
arm's length of the raft. And though his small black eyes showed more
than a trace of fear, his limbs did not waver and his voice did not
shake.
"Do as I do--and only that," directed Ru. And he climbed onto the
farther end of the raft, and motioned Kori to take his place at the
opposite extremity.
"Now push with your club," Ru ordered, after Kori had stationed himself
on the raft. "And move it the way I move mine."
Whereat he gave a powerful shove, and Kori followed with another shove
not less powerful. And the raft slipped away from the bank out into the
wilderness of the waters!
Once again the people murmured in admiration and surprise; once again
there were cries of wonder at the magic of Ru. And all eyes were
riveted upon that little craft which made its way slowly, slowly out
toward the center of the stream.
Loud was the splashing of the waters as Ru and Kori pushed and pushed
with their clubs; and still louder the excitement of the people as
the two tribesmen made their difficult headway. At times, to be sure,
they made no headway at all, but would paddle in opposing directions,
and the raft would merely swing round and round; at other times they
seemed to be drifting backward, and once Kori lost his balance and fell
into the river, but, with Ru's help, quickly recovered himself. Yet,
with all their awkwardness, they did make some progress; and, as they
advanced, their movements seemed to become slightly more efficient
and assured. At length they had reached the middle of the river, at
length had gone beyond the middle, and, dwindling each to a slender
black line, were approaching the opposite bank. Smaller and smaller
they grew, until they had disappeared entirely behind a projection of
land and not even a speck remained to mar the slow-moving, muddy brown
expanse of the waters.
Impatiently the people waited; the air rang with their disappointment
and forebodings. Could it be that their tribesmen had vanished not to
return? Could it be that the river-god had been angered after all,
and had devoured Kori and Ru even as he had devoured Kimo the Hairy
Mammoth? A period that seemed interminable went by; many a voice cried
out in apprehension, and many a prayer was murmured by frightened
lips. Then suddenly there came a shout of relief; then a great roar of
applause--the missing ones were returning!
But were they returning? Only one slender form was to be seen against
the vague vastness of the waters. Had Kori too gone the way of the
Hairy Mammoth? Horror and dismay glared from the eyes of the people as
they stood muttering and waiting, muttering and waiting, while that
single figure gradually drew toward them, until at last the tribesfolk
knew that it was Ru coming back.
"Where is Kori?" they cried, tumultuously. "Where is he? Where is he?
Where is the Running Deer?" And from one corner of the crowd there
sounded the sudden wailing of a woman.
Many minutes passed, and still their doubts remained. Not until Ru had
drawn his raft up to the bank and alighted did he attempt to answer the
stormy questions of the throng.
"Kori is waiting on the other side," he explained. "Who wants to go
next?"
No one appeared anxious for the privilege. "Targ the Thick Club, you go
now with Ru!" Grumgra had to command, before another candidate could be
found, and Ru undertook to ferry his second passenger across the river.