_The Beast-Men Score_
After the night attack, the beast-men disappeared as mysteriously as
they had arrived. Except for the three that lay slain in the cave,
no sign of them was to be seen on the following morning--the cañon
lay quiet and apparently untenanted, and from the woods there came no
suspicious sound. And once again the Umbaddu wondered whether their
foes had not finally departed.
It was most necessary that they find out--and find out without delay.
The people required water from the river, since that trickling from
the cavern walls was not ample; they needed fagots for burning, roots
and berries for food, and meat to replenish their dwindling supplies.
How procure any of these essentials unless they ventured down into the
cañon, where possibly the beast-men were lurking? For the first time,
some dim inkling of the danger ahead began to filter into the minds of
the tribesfolk; but, as yet, it was merely an inkling, and the men had
no thought of possible defeat as they boasted of the exploits of the
night and swore to spill their enemies' blood to the last drop.
It was sometime in the afternoon when three of the tribesmen, wearied
by the hours of waiting, decided that they might safely descend the
cliff and quench their thirst in the river. Cautiously they began to
slide down the rocky walls, while their people thronged the terrace
above to watch; slowly, with eyes alert and clubs gripped in readiness,
they released themselves from boulder to boulder, taking their way in
single file down the steep, narrow ledge. As they advanced, they gained
in confidence, for the stillness of the woods remained unruffled, and
no suspicious murmur or movement startled their eager senses. From
above, their tribesfolk cheered and shouted encouragingly, and the
farther they descended the more uproarious grew that chorus from the
cliff; and they themselves, reassured not less by the clamor of their
comrades than by the serenity of the rest of the world, had little fear
for the outcome.
At length they stood unharmed at the base of the cliff! At length,
picking their way warily over a flat rocky space, they were pressing
toward the brink of the river! Now they were actually at the river
bank; now the foremost was bending down and sucking in huge gulps of
water. And from his tribesmen there sounded an applauding chorus that
was like a peal of triumph.
But with disconcerting suddenness that chorus snapped short. Shrieks of
alarm and cries of warning shrilled from the watching throng, mingled
with sharp exclamations of horror. Then, almost before the three daring
ones could wheel about to face the peril, the woods behind them rang
with savage whoops and ululations, and a multitude of club-wielding
hairy forms swarmed forth.
Caught by surprise, with the woods and the cliff on one side and the
river on the other, the three assaulted ones had no chance to flee.
Except for a few random strokes as futile as a hare's resistance to
an eagle, they had almost no chance even to fight--their foes bore
down upon them in a throng that was overwhelming. In an instant one of
the men, not finding time even to lift his club, was clutched in the
grip of half a dozen iron arms, in which he struggled helplessly as a
manacled child; the next moment, swinging their cudgels despairingly,
the other two went down moaning before the blows of the beast-men, who
pounded and pounded their prostrate forms with the fury of exultant
fiends.
And now, while the angered throng on the cliff screamed out their
hatred and flung rocks in unavailing showers, the beast-men proceeded
to display their true nature. Bearing the two corpses and their one
living prisoner as the spoils of battle, they retreated to an open spot
at the verge of the woods, within clear view of their foemen, although
just out of range of the missiles. Then, building a fire while the
howls of the Umbaddu still pursued them, they prepared for a pastime
that made their enemies gape in amazement and horror.
At first the Umbaddu did not understand what the beast-men were about
when, by means of huge flint knives and axes, they dismembered the
bodies of the slain; and even when the severed limbs were placed above
the fire to roast and sizzle, the ghastly meaning was not at first
clear to the watchers from above. But, from the very beginning, the
Umbaddu had little doubt regarding the beast-men's plans for their
living captive. Bruised and bleeding, the unfortunate man was dragged
to a resting-place near the fire, where he was held full-length upon
the ground, each of his hands pinioned to earth by a grimacing foe, his
legs helpless beneath the weight of a particularly bulky adversary.
And while he lay there like a soon-to-be-slaughtered beast, at times
pleading with a fury that awakened only screeches of derision and at
times moaning so pitifully as to arouse a low hissing laughter, his
captors proceeded to entertain themselves at his expense. All about
him, in a jabbering crush, crowded the stooping, hairy rabble; men and
women pushed one another fiercely aside for a glimpse of their victim;
children were brushed to earth like dirt while their elders stared
at the stranger with inquisitive apish eyes, pulling at his hair to
discover whether it would come out, lifting up his deerskin mantle to
find out what was beneath, poking him in the nose or face or jabbing
him with sharp sticks for the pleasure of hearing him scream.
But evidently he was held for some graver purpose. After the people
had amused themselves for some time and the captive had been prodded
almost into unconsciousness, the sport was stopped abruptly by one of
the tallest of the beast-men--a particularly unsightly individual,
with face painted red, and body covered so thickly with feathers that
he looked almost like a walking bird. Certainly, he was a bird of ill
omen--for, after a single scream from his powerful lungs, the mob began
edging away from the captive as if from something pestilential, until
there remained only the three who pinned the man to earth. Thereupon
the feathered one began to speak in a loud and ceremonious drawl, while
the others flung themselves to the ground before him; then, rising,
they retreated still farther, and, as though at a given signal, burst
into a tumult of horrible hoots and howls, leaping up and down with
wild gesticulations, and dancing a swift vehement dance of triumph.
At the same time the leader, picking up a long, sharp piece of
flint, held it poised and pointed toward the captive, whom he slowly
approached with diabolical intent. The man gave a gasp of terror; his
eyes rolled and bulged; he strained and struggled as never before,
and for an instant had almost wrenched his right arm free. But all
his efforts were unavailing--slowly, remorselessly, that pointed bit
of flint drew near. When it was within a foot of the intended victim,
the feathered one suddenly paused and flung both hands skyward as if
in supplication to some unseen divinity; then, almost as suddenly, he
emitted a scream that made his hearers' blood run chill, turned about,
bent down, and plunged the flint--into the captive's heart!
Furious yells and shouts of rejoicing burst from hundreds of lips....
But from the watchers on the cliff there came growls of rage and
defiance blent with a low wailing of dismay.
That evening the beast-men made their camp at the verge of the woods,
in full sight of the Umbaddu. Uncannily their fires blazed and
flickered, while above the tree tops the skies glowed an angry red;
uncannily the huge shadowy shapes flitted about the flames, surging
back and forth vaguely, like a rout of festive demons; uncannily
sounded their mutterings and cries, their babbling merriment, their
hissing laughter, the crackling of bones and the crunching of the
powerful jaws of unseen feasters....
When morning came, they had not gone. The fires still burned, although
now smoldering low; hundreds of shaggy forms were sprawled at every
angle upon the ground. Soon after dawn they were all astir, quenching
their thirst at the river or chewing at the few scattered bones that
still told of the night's repast. But they showed no intention of
leaving; and though a violent storm came up, and the wind blew and
blustered frenziedly and the rain came down in torrents, apparently it
never occurred to them to seek quarters elsewhere. They strolled about
in the rain as indifferently as if it had escaped their notice; when it
was over, they shook the water nonchalantly off their hairy bodies and
seated themselves in the gathering sunlight to dry--but still they had
evidently no thought of going away. And the Umbaddu, watching through
the slow hours from their safe perch on the cliff, felt an impatience
that gradually expanded into dread; for now at last, though they could
not have stated the peril in words, they realized that they were
besieged!
* * * * *
That evening a conference of all the tribe was held, attended by
every member with the exception of Ru, who was still inexplicably
missing. While four or five of the men kept guard with clubs at the
cavern entrance (which was too large to be blocked with boulders), the
others convened about the fire, not more than a stone's throw from the
gateway. They were not quite so numerous now as when they had assembled
in that other cave many months' travel away; not less than thirty-five
or forty of their number had succumbed to the attacks of the beast-men,
to wild animals, to accident and to disease; and the losses had in no
way been equalized by the few babes born during the migration. Yet, as
the people gathered near the flames in whispering, furtive-eyed groups,
they seemed to understand that the losses they had suffered were slight
beside those which threatened. And such was their apprehension that
their usual lively spirits had deserted them; their chattering was
low-toned and suppressed, their cackling laughter infrequent; they
had scarcely the energy even to quarrel; and for the most part their
feelings were expressed by low moans, plaints, and wailings.
Nor was their depression relieved after Zunzun the Marvel-Worker had
opened the meeting and lifted his voice to entreat the aid of the
fire-god. His supplications had little of the air of conviction;
he had something of the manner of one who implores a favor that
must inevitably be denied. And though the people joined him in his
incantations, at times even reaching a pitch of fervor, yet their
enthusiasm was short-lived; and, as soon as he had gone shuffling away
from the fire, their faces resumed a look of half-understood fear, of
blank and uncomprehending misery.
"My people, what would you have us do?" asked Grumgra, when, in a less
aggressive mood than usual, he took his place in the firelight. "The
bad spirits of the woods have entered the hearts of the beast-men, so
that they want to kill us all. They will not go away--and they know
that we cannot always stay here. We have meat enough till the sun goes
down, and then goes down once more, and then once again. But that is
all--after that, the black demon of hunger will be with us, and we will
cry out, and there will be terrible pains within us; but the more we
cry out the more terrible the pains will be. What would you have us do,
my people? Would you have us all wait here till the hunger-pain comes?"
"No! No! No!" rang out a chorus of despairing cries.
"No! No! No!" shouted a hoarse, deep-toned voice. And Woonoo the
Hot-Blooded, springing up from somewhere among the shadows to the rear,
plunged forward with the earnest appeal: "Let us not wait! Let us take
our clubs and go down the rocks, and fight the beast-people and kill
them all! Let us kill them all, O chief!"
"Let us kill them all!" echoed scores of voices.
But Grumgra, unimpressed, stood regarding Woonoo contemptuously. "And
would you have them kill us instead?" he flung back. "Would you have
them do to us as they did today to our tribesman? Hit us with big
rocks, and then eat us like wolves?"
Incoherent oaths and mutterings greeted these words. And still
mumbling, "Let us not wait! Let us not wait!" Woonoo slipped back into
the shadows.
But, unexpectedly, Woonoo's cause found an able sponsor. "The
Hot-Blooded speaks wisely," declared Zunzun the Marvel-Worker, as
he shambled unsteadily forward. "What can we do but take our clubs
and go down the rocks in a great crowd to fight the beast-men? The
cave-spirits will do nothing for us if we stay here. And we have seen
what they will do if we try to go down in small bands. So let us go
down all together! That is what the fire-god told me when I prayed to
him!"
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Let us go down all together!" pleaded a dozen excited
voices, led by that of Woonoo.
"How can we go down all together?" demanded Grumgra, his brow
contracted in an anxious frown. "The beast-men are as many as the hands
of all our people--and two clubs are stronger than one."
"Sometimes one club is stronger!" denied Zunzun. "The gods put more
power in one crafty club than in two clubs swung by foolish hands."
Grumgra still glowered fiercely. "A big club is stronger than a crafty
one!" he growled. And he brandished his own lovingly, as if by way of
proof.
"This is what we should do," continued Zunzun hastily, in disregard of
Grumgra's last remark. "If we fight where they can see us and when the
sun shines, the gods of the big clubs will be with the beast-men. But
if we come upon them in the dark, when they do not know how many we
are and cannot see us, the gods of the big clubs will be with us. We
will then make a noise like fighting wild beasts, and kill many of our
enemies and frighten the rest away. This also the fire-god told me when
I spoke to him."
"Let us do as Zunzun says! Do as Zunzun says!" the people began to
clamor--and so insistent were their mutterings that before long
even Grumgra felt obliged to bow to public opinion and commend the
Marvel-Worker's plans.
Excitedly, with the enthusiasm of hope regained, the people commenced
to scheme for that night attack which was to be the all-decisive test
between them and the beast-men.