OG—SON OF FIRE
[Illustration: Beside him, shivering and whimpering, were two wolf cubs]
OG—SON OF FIRE
BY
IRVING CRUMP
AUTHOR OF “THE BOYS’ BOOK OF FIREMEN,”
“THE BOYS’ BOOK OF RAILROADS,” ETC.
_Editor, Boys’ Life, The Boy Scouts’ Magazine_
ILLUSTRATED BY
CHARLES LIVINGSTON BULL
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1946
Copyright, 1921, 1922
BY IRVING CRUMP
Printed in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE CALL OF COOKED MEAT 1
II THE FIRE DEMON 10
III THE CRACK IN THE EARTH 19
IV THE FIRST CAMP FIRE 31
V IN WHICH THE WOLF BECOMES DOG 41
VI AT BAY WITH THE WOLF PACK 55
VII A CAPTIVE OF THE TREE PEOPLE 61
VIII SCAR FACE THE TERRIBLE 74
IX SACRIFICED TO SABRE TOOTH 86
X IN THE DARK OF THE NIGHT 97
XI FIRE 106
XII STOLEN FLAMES 115
XIII THE WRATH OF THE FIRE MONSTER 126
XIV THE PYTHON’S COILS 136
XV SMOTHERING DARKNESS 146
XVI WAB IS CARED FOR 156
XVII THE FIRE LIGHTER 161
XVIII GOG’S TREACHERY 177
XIX GOG PASSES ON 190
ILLUSTRATIONS
Beside him, shivering and whimpering, were two wolf cubs _Frontispiece_
PAGE
Og squatted down close at hand and watched them 48
The pack stopped. Og and his fire arrested them 56
Og beheld in the lower branches three big forms 64
The great creature carried him as easily as Og would have carried
a young goat 76
It was trying to trace the direction of an odor 94
The boulder, with a crunching noise, came out of its insecure
resting place 100
Then he proceeded with his skinning, while the wolf cubs looked
silently on 102
Great bats, almost as big as Og himself 138
The huge serpent raised its head and shining neck aloft and
glared about the cavern 142
OG—SON OF FIRE
CHAPTER I
THE CALL OF COOKED MEAT
The earth rocked. The sky was of purple blackness. The nauseating
stench of burning sulphur filled the air. Thunder rumbled, and growled
constantly under the earth crust to be answered by shattering crashes
that seemed to come from the heavens, and with each terrific impact a
mountain vaguely outlined in the distance trembled and shook and huge
fissures opened down its side from which bubbled out great clots of
lurid red molten lava, the light of which reflected on the billowing
clouds of thick yellow smoke vomiting from the crater. Off through the
night like giant reptiles of fire these streams of lava flowed, crawling
slowly down the mountain side, sliding around great bowlders, or pausing
a moment to fill huge cracks in the earth’s crust before proceeding on
their serpentine way into the valley, where a veritable molten lake of
lava was slowly forming. A great volcano after a lifetime of slumber had
awakened.
Cowering, wild-eyed with fear, under the sheltering overhang of a rugged
cliff on a hillside far beyond the valley that was slowly filling with
lava, was a boy,—the sole human witness to this terrible cataclysmic
disturbance. Beside him shivering and whimpering were two hairy, dog-like
creatures, wolf-dog cubs, who, like the boy, had sought the shelter of
this massive rock hoping that here they would in some way find a measure
of protection in the face of this horrible disaster. The boy was the only
survivor of a colony of cliff dwelling humans who had lived in the caves
near by, but who had fled the section in panic when the Fire Demon in the
mountain had begun to blast the earth by letting loose his fiery serpents
from the mountain. The wolf-dog cubs were all that were left of a pack of
gray-black hunters caught in the valley with the first outburst of the
eruption, and unable to gain the hillside where the cubs had been left by
their wary mother.
For the space of two suns and two starlights they had crouched there. The
boy guessed it was that long. They had seen neither sun nor stars. Night
and day had been the same under that curling yellow smoke pall. Perhaps
the Fire Demon had put out both the sun and the stars and they would
never shine again. The boy did not know. He did know that he was tired
and that he had missed many sleeps. Despite his fear, which still gripped
him, his eyes would close and his head would fall forward even though
he fought to keep awake. If he had to die he wanted to see death come.
He did not want it to stalk upon him while he slept. But despite his
overwhelming fear, and his will power, which was strong for one of his
kind, sleep mastered him and finally in the face of this tornado of smoke
and fire that seemed to threaten destruction to the very earth itself,
his head dropped forward, his eyes closed and he slept the dull, heavy
sleep of utter physical exhaustion.
He slept in a very strange manner. He did not lie down flat as human
beings do to-day, nor did he curl up on his side as did the wolf cubs.
Instead he slept sitting on his haunches, his body drawn in and his
drooping though muscular shoulders hunched over his knees. His head had
dropped forward between his knees and his big, long-fingered hands were
clasped across the back of his neck. Why he slept thus he did not know.
It seemed to him the most natural and most comfortable position. He could
not understand that he was obeying the protective instincts of Nature;
that his big hands were clasped about the back of his neck to protect
the arteries and nerve centers there, and that the long hair on the back
of his hands and forearms and upper arms grew in a manner that made all
hairs point downward when his arms were in this position, thus shedding
rain or moisture. It would require a long stretch of the imagination to
connect this being with the humans of to-day, 500,000 years removed.
His legs were short, being but a few inches longer than his very long
and very strong arms. His head was set on a pair of sloping shoulders,
massive for one of his short stature, and his neck was thick and corded
with muscles. His ears were small and he had perfect control over them,
for this hairy boy had very acute senses. His nose he controlled the same
way, his nostrils dilating or contracting to gather in new odors, or shut
out those that were strong and offensive to his delicate sense of smell.
His mouth was strong and well armed with short, strong teeth. His jaw was
broad and massive; a trifle too large for his head it seemed. His eyes
were brown and set far apart under almost shaggy, bushing brows, and his
forehead was broad and high for one of his race.
For hours this primitive boy slept, and although his quick ears and
sensitive nose gathered in every new sound and odor, they failed to
register on the dulled brain, so great was his exhaustion. Likewise the
two wolf-dog cubs, snuggled close to his hairy hips for warmth, slept,
for they, too, were worn out beyond the point where they could control
their physical selves. And as they slept the clash of the elements grew
less violent. The thunder claps and rumblings beneath the earth’s surface
became less frequent and gradually ceased entirely, the sulphuric yellow
smoke pall thinned out enough to let the sun, a huge round ball of fire
it seemed through the thick yellow mist, shine dimly. The volcano now
threw out great plumes of white steam. The lava ceased to bubble over
the sides of the crater, and the lurid red streams that coursed down its
sides began to lose their color and likewise their motion. They were
cooling into solid masses.
It was hunger that finally awoke the hairy boy. For many days and
nights he had been without food. The first day of his refuge under the
overhanging cliff he was secretly glad to find the wolf cubs there. They
insured him against starvation. But during the wild hours that followed
he thought very little of his stomach. Only once did he realize that
he was hungry, but when he faced the situation of killing one of the
cubs he hesitated. Not through any sense of honor, or because of any
sentiment, for as yet he possessed very little of either. He hesitated
at killing either of them for the simple reason that alive they afforded
companionship. Dead and eaten he would be alone and he feared to be alone
in the face of this overpowering disaster that seemed to threaten him.
Awakening, however, and noting with a sense of relief that the
disturbance was over and that the volcano was slowly settling back to
normal, his fear began to leave him and he began to pay more attention
to the hunger pangs that assailed his gaunt stomach. He looked down at
the wolf cubs, still sleeping, huddled close to his side; then lest they
awaken, because his eyes were on them, as he knew they would, he reached
out swiftly with two hairy hands and grabbed the cubs by the nape of the
neck. They awoke with frightened yelps and forthwith began kicking and
snapping.
The hairy boy lifted them into the air and watched them struggle while
just the ghost of a grim smile puckered the corners of his mouth and
eyes. He needed but to close the grip of his strong fingers on their
throats and in a few minutes they would be choked to death. Then he would
tear the hide from their bodies with the aid of his teeth and a sharp
stone or two, and his meal would be ready. Many times before had he
gnawed the flesh of wolf cubs from the bone, and while he did not like
it as well as he did the flesh of the wild horse, or the great moose, or
bison, that had been the meat of his people, he knew that it would taste
wonderful under the circumstances.
But while he sat there holding the squalling, kicking cubs at arm’s
length his attention was suddenly arrested by an odor that was almost
overpowering in its appeal. Instead of the acrid stinging smell of the
sulphur smoke there came to him an odor that was laden with the meat
scent, yet it was so subtly different, so irresistible, that his mouth
began to drool water from the corners, while his eyes grew big and round.
Transfixed he slowly dropped the wolf cubs to the stone ledge, although
he kept restraining fingers wound in the hair of their necks. He did not
mean to lose a possible meal by letting them get away but he did not
want to eat them if he could possibly find the origin of this delightful
hunger smell. For a long time he sat there under the cliff, his nostrils
working furiously to catch every subtler scent of this enticing odor.
His ears were cocked forward as if he hoped that they too might help him
locate the source of this wonderful food smell.
As for the wolf-dog cubs, they were famished too, and the odor was just
as overpowering to them. Their feet once more on the ground, they paid
small heed to the restraining fingers about their necks. Their black
noses were pointed up the wind and they were sniffing eagerly and whining
too and saliva was dripping from their mouths.
Although none of the three knew it, they were for the first time smelling
roasted meat. Somewhere down there in the valley animals had been trapped
in the lava, killed and cooked, but since no one of the hairy boy’s tribe
had ever mastered fire he did not know what cooked meat really was. He
did know, however, as he sat there on the ledge, that never in his life
had he smelled anything that made him so hungry as this odor did; indeed
it was so overpowering that it presently made him forget the wolf cubs,
the danger of the Fire Demon in the volcano, the fear that was always
constant in his people of going very far from the cave or sheltering rock
save in packs or droves, and everything else, and almost before he knew
what he was about he began to climb from the shelf or rock under the
cliff and make his way down the hillside into the steam filled valley
of the hot lava, a place where he never in the world would have had the
courage or temerity to venture were it not for that intoxicating odor
that grew stronger and stronger into his nostrils as he descended the
hillside.