Tur carried the girl, still struggling and fighting, toward his boat.
For the first time he saw the boat that had brought Nu, and wondered
at the presence of another craft. Who could it be? A closer inspection
revealed that the boat was one that had just been fashioned by others
of his own tribe. Some of the men must have followed him. Still
clasping Nat-ul firmly as he stood ankle deep in the water beside his
boat he raised his voice in a loud halloo.
Presently a clattering of falling stones from the cliff facing the
beach attracted the attention of Tur and the girl. Already half way
down, the figure of an agile giant was leaping toward them in descent.
From his shoulders fluttered the skin of a cave-lion. From his shock of
black hair a single long feather rose straight and defiantly aloft.
A single glance revealed to Tur the fact that this was no member of
his tribe. It was a stranger, and so an enemy. Nat-ul recognized Nu
at once. She gave a little cry of delight at sight of him, a cry that
was answered by a shout of encouragement from Nu. Tur threw the girl
roughly into the bottom of the boat, holding her there with one hand,
though she fought bitterly to escape, while with his free hand he
dragged first his boat and then Nu's out into deeper water.
Handicapped though he was, Tur worked rapidly, for he was at home in
the surf and wonderfully proficient in the handling of the cumbersome
craft of his tribe even under the most adverse conditions. At last he
succeeded in shoving Nu's boat into the grip of a receding roller that
carried it swiftly away from shore, and at the same time he shoved his
own through, leaping into it with his captive.
Nat-ul fought her way to her knees, calling aloud to Nu, and striving
desperately to throw herself overboard, but Tur held her fast, paddling
with one hand, and when Nu reached the water's edge they were well
beyond his reach. So, too, was his own tree trunk. Between him and
Nat-ul the sea swarmed with carnivorous reptiles. Every instant was
carrying her away from him. The troglodyte scarce hesitated. With a
swift movement he threw off his lion skin and discarded his stone ax,
then, naked but for a loin cloth, and armed only with his knife he dove
through the pounding surf into the frightful sea.
As Nat-ul witnessed his act she redoubled her efforts to retard Tur.
Crawling to her knees she threw both arms about her captor's neck,
dragging him down until he could no longer wield his paddle. Tur fought
to disengage himself. He did not wish to kill or maim his captive--she
was far too beautiful to destroy or disfigure--he wanted her in all her
physical perfection, just as she was.
Gradually Nu was overhauling them. Twice he was attacked by slimy
monsters. Once he fought his way to victory, and again the two who
menaced him fell to fighting between themselves and forgot their
prey. At last he was within reach of Tur's boat. Nat-ul battling with
desperation and every ounce of her strength to hamper Tur's movements
was tugging at the man's arms. He could do nothing, and already Nu had
seized the side of the craft and was raising one leg over it.
With a sudden wrench Tur freed his right hand. Nat-ul strove to regain
it, but the great fist rose above her face. With terrific impact it
fell upon her forehead. All went black before her as she released her
hold upon Tur and sank to the bottom of the boat, unconscious.
Instantly Tur snatched up his paddle and leaping to his feet beat
furiously at Nu's head and hands. Bravely the man strove to force his
way into the boat in the face of this terrific punishment; but it was
too severe, and at last, half stunned, he slipped back into the water,
as Tur drove his paddle once again and the rude craft forged away
toward the mainland.
* * * * *
When Nat-ul regained consciousness she found herself lying upon a
shaggy aurochs skin beneath a rude shelter of thatch and hide. Her
hands and feet were securely bound with tough bullock sinew. When
she struggled to free herself they cut into her soft flesh, hurting
cruelly. So she lay still looking straight up at the funnel-like peak
of the shelter's interior.
She knew where she was. This was one of the strange caves of the people
she had seen working upon the tree trunks, for what purpose she now
knew. She turned her head toward the entrance. Beyond she saw men and
women squatting about small fires, eating. It was already dark. Beyond
them were other fires, larger fires that kept the savage carnivora at
bay.
And beyond this outer circle of fires, from out of the outer darkness,
came the roaring and the coughing, the grunting and the growling of
scores of terrible beasts of prey, that slunk back and forth about the
encampment thirsting for the blood of the men and women and children
who huddled within the safety of the protecting fires.
Occasionally a little boy would snatch up a burning brand and hurl it
among the night prowlers. There would be a chorus of angry screams and
low toned, rumbling growls as the menacers retreated for an instant,
then the ring of shadowy forms, and the glowing spots of burning flame
that were their eyes, would reform out of the stygian blackness of the
night.
Once a cave-lion, emboldened by familiarity with the camp fires of
primitive people, leaped through the encircling ring of flame. Into the
midst of a family party he sprang, seizing upon an old man. Instantly a
half hundred warriors snatched up their spears, and as the lion turned
with his prey and leaped back into the night fifty harpoons caught him
in mid-air.
Down he came directly on top of a flaming pile of brush, and with him
came the old man. The warriors leaped forward with whirling axes. What
mattered it if the old man was pierced by a dozen of the spears that
had been intended for the marauder? They leaped and shouted in savage
glee, for the lion was dead even before a single ax had smitten him.
The old man was dead, too. Him they hurled out to the beasts beyond the
flames; the lion they first skinned.
It was an awful spectacle, that evening scene in the far antiquity of
man, when the Boat Builders, come north in search of new fisheries,
camped upon the shore of the Restless Sea in the edge of the jungle
primeval; but to Nat-ul it presented nothing remarkable. To such scenes
she had been accustomed since earliest childhood. Of course, with her
people the danger of attack by wild beasts at night was minimized by
the fact that her tribe dwelt in caves, the mouths of which could
be easily blocked against fourfooted enemies; but she was familiar
with the evening fires which burned at the cliff's base while the
tribe was gathered to feast or council, and she was used, too, to the
sudden charge of some bolder individual amongst the many that always
foregathered about the haunts of man at night.
At last the people withdrew to their shelters. Only two girls were
left, whose business it was to keep the fires burning brightly. Nat-ul
was familiar with this custom and she knew the utilitarian origin of
it. Women were the least valuable assets of a tribe. They could best be
spared in case of a sudden onslaught by some fierce beast at night--it
was the young men, who soon were to become warriors, that must be
preserved. The death of a single girl would count for little--her
purpose would have been served if the screams of herself and her
companion aroused the warriors.
But why not old and useless women instead of young girls? Merely
because the instinct of self-preservation is stronger in the young than
in the very old. An old woman would have been much less careless of her
life than would a young woman, and so might sleep and permit the fires
to die out--she would have but a few years or months to live anyway and
little or nothing to live for in those primitive days.
The young woman, on the contrary, would watch the fires zealously for
her own protection, and so insure the greater safety of the tribe.
Thus, perhaps, was born the custom from which sprung the order of
holy virgins who tended the eternal fires in the temples that were yet
unbuilt in the still undreamed-of Rome.
Presently the entrance to the shelter in which Nat-ul was secured was
darkened by the figure of a man--it was Tur. Nat-ul recognized him at
once. He came to her side and knelt.
"I have kept the women from you," he said. "Gron would have torn you
to pieces, and the others would have helped her. But you need not fear
them. Promise me that you will not resist, or attempt to escape, and
you shall be freed from your bonds permanently. Otherwise I shall have
to tie you up whenever I am away, and then there is no telling what
Gron may do, since you will be defenseless and I not here to keep her
from you. What do you say?"
"I say that the moment my hands are freed I shall fight until I kill or
am killed," replied the girl; "and when my feet are loosed I shall run
away as fast as I can."
Tur shrugged his shoulders.
"Very well," he said. "It will profit you nothing, unless you enjoy
being always tied in this uncomfortable position."
He stooped and commenced to work upon the knots that held her feet and
ankles. Outside the shelter something slunk stealthily in the shadows.
Tur did not hear the faint scraping sound of the creature's wary
advance. His back was toward the entrance of the shelter as he knelt
low over the hard knots in the bullock sinews. Already he had released
the cords that encircled Nat-ul's ankles, and now he was turning his
attention to those at her knees. The girl lay quietly, her face toward
the lesser darkness which showed through the entrance. She would wait
patiently until he had freed her, and then she would fight until the
man was forced to kill her.
Suddenly she became aware of the darker shadow of a form blotting a
portion of the dark entrance way. The creature was not large enough
to be of the more formidable carnivora, though it might have been a
hyena or a wild dog. Nat-ul was on the point of warning the man, when
it occurred to her that here might be not only the quick death she
now craved, but at the same time a means of revenging herself upon her
captor.
She lay very quiet while Tur labored over the last knot. Close behind
the man crept the silent prowler of the night. Nat-ul could imagine the
bared fangs and the slavering jowls. In another instant there would be
a savage growl as the thing closed with a swift spring upon its prey.
Or would it leap past the man upon her unprotected throat? The girl's
eyes were wide in fascinated horror. She shuddered once as in the close
presence of death. The last knot loosened beneath Tur's fingers. He
jerked the cord from about the girl's knees with a low exclamation of
satisfaction.
And then Nat-ul saw the thing behind the man rear upon its hind legs
and spring full upon his back. There was no savage growl--no sound. The
silence of the attack rendered it infinitely more horrible than would
bestial roars and growls that might have proclaimed the nature of the
animal.
Tur rolled over upon his side to grapple with his antagonist. In an
instant they were locked in furious combat. Nat-ul staggered to her
feet. Her arms still were pinioned, but her legs were free. Here was
her opportunity! Leaping over the two blood mad beasts she darted from
the shelter and plunged into the nearby jungle.