THE FIRE LIGHTER
True to his word Og found a cave that was big and roomy. It was not an
easy task, for most of the pleasant caves had been taken. So too had all
the caves that were deemed safe, for the hairy men liked caves that were
well up from the valley bottom so that prowling beasts could not enter
unawares. Traditional caution made Og realize that this was the best kind
of abode, too, and he was sorely tempted to use the awe in which he was
held to good advantage and crowd out some family that had an unusually
desirable cave. That was how it was done among hairy folk. The strongest
and most ferocious men occupied the best caves. Og particularly liked the
fine, big, roomy cave that Gog possessed, and he was of a mind to walk
into it with a fire brand in either hand and demand it.
But with all his confidence there was something that made him hesitate.
Perhaps it was the vivid recollections that he retained of the old
leader at his best, or worst. He was a savage old brute, strong, ugly,
treacherous and merciless, yet withal brave as a tiger. Og knew that
although Gog stood in awe of his fire weapons the old warrior would
fight for his cave home until he no longer had strength to lift his
bone-crushing stone hammer. And Og, as courageous as he was, had no
stomach for a fight of that sort, especially one of his own provoking,
for instinctively he knew that right was on the side of the defender; and
Og had somehow sensed that without right to fortify courage he could not
fight with valiance.
And so he put aside his covetous desires and searched longer for a home
cave. There were several spacious holes in the cliff down near the valley
floor. All were big and roomy, yet not too big for comfort; but all had
broad doorways, which Og knew was not desirable, for the bigger the
doorway the larger the prowler that could enter.
But he found one that was so desirable; so handy to the spring of water
from which the hairy men drank, so near the swiftly flowing mountain
torrent that ran through the valley, and so near the council rock
and the flat, well-tramped stretch of earth where the hairy people’s
children played when danger was not near, that he felt a desire to take
possession of it despite the fact that it had a huge doorway through
which even a hairy mammoth could conveniently enter. That was the reason
why it was not already occupied.
Finally, after much hard thinking which gave him a headache, he decided;
and, carrying his stone hammers, his knife and his tiger skin down to it,
he spread the great skin on the floor and returned to the cave higher up
the cliff to help Wab down.
When he led the blind man into the cave and explained to him what cave it
was and where it was located, Wab shook his head and smiled sadly.
“Og, where is your caution? This is the great cave, shunned by all the
hairy people. No one would think to try to live here. When we came
here first it was used as a council cave. We gathered here for council
sometimes, but the great cave tiger crept up the valley one day, saw us
all inside, and rushed in among us. He killed two and dragged them away
before we could climb the cliffs to safety. And so we never even used it
for a council cave again. It has a doorway so big that it will let all
the night monsters in.”
“I have thought of that,” said Og; “but we have a door guard that they
cannot pass. See, I will build a big fire here. That is protection. No
one will dare pass it, not even Sabre Tooth were he still hunting the
valley.”
“Ah, perhaps,” said the hunter doubtfully, but he sat down on the tiger
skin and watched Og build his fire.
Others watched him, too. The whole tribe was amazed at Og’s daring. They
chattered and shook their heads and made humorous faces at each other
which was their way of saying that Og was either a fool or more powerful
than any among them.
But they soon found that the last was the truth, for Og made his home
in the big cave and burned his fire steadily night and day, Wab heaping
wood upon it while his son was off in the forest hunting by himself or
with the others, for the hairy men hunted in gangs more often than they
wandered into the forest alone. And while he lived there in the old
council cave, three times a great leopard visited the cliffs and stole
women and children from the caves, yet though his cave was the easiest to
approach, it was never visited, and the hairy folk knew that it was all
because of Og’s fire.
Once too, Og, busy among the rocks, as he forever seemed to be when not
off hunting, was surprised by the appearance of a woolly rhinoceros,
a great, shaggy monster with tiny, wicked, bloodshot eyes and two
great horns that grew out of his nose. The beast came upon Og quite
unexpectedly while he was chipping away at a stone with another stone,
in full sight of all the cliff dwellers. The first that he knew of the
beast’s presence was when he was startled by a harsh, grunting snort
and a thunderous stamping of feet. Og looked up to see the great animal
staring at him and shaking his head menacingly.
With a cry of warning that sent the cliff people scattering and
scrambling up toward their caves, Og dropped his stones and turned and
fled as swiftly as his legs could carry him. The rhinoceros with a snort
of rage charged after him, galloping over the ground with such heavy
strides that Og could almost feel the earth tremble.
Og, the fear of death on his face, raced headlong toward his big cave,
and the woolly one came after him so swiftly that it seemed as if it
were only a matter of a few more steps before he would hook that vicious
double horn into Og’s back and toss him skyward and trample his remains
among the rocks when he fell.
But Og reached his cave first and with a yell of triumph leaped over the
fire that was blazing in the doorway, then, turning, he hurled defiance
at the woolly one. The rhinoceros plunged on until he saw the fire; then,
with a frightened snort and much sliding and scrambling, he stopped short
not more than his own length away from the blazing fagots. For a moment
he stood there irresolute, red-eyed with rage, yet not daring to advance
a step farther. And as he stood there Og seized one burning stick after
another and hurled them against his bulging flanks until he turned tail
and went squealing away, very much like an overgrown pig.
Then it was that the hairy folk knew the power of Og’s weapons. They
understood too why he and his father were not afraid to live in the big
cave with the wide doorway. And they were all properly impressed. They
could see that he had a powerful ally in the Fire Demon, and many of them
feared him more and avoided him all they could.
But there were others—thinkers, perhaps—who did not avoid him. Instead
they curried friendship with him by bringing him meat and pretty stones.
They sought every opportunity to visit his cave if only to chatter
with him or with his father, Wab. And always they sat within the circle
of heat cast by the fire and reveled in its warmth. They enjoyed this
basking, and they enjoyed watching the flickering tongues of flames—at a
safe distance, of course. They delighted, too, in watching Og or Wab as
they worked about the fire, feeding it or cooking their meat over it.
Perhaps this last operation interested them the most, for always while
Og was cooking a delicious, appetizing odor that made one’s mouth water
emanated from the big doorway. And the visitor could not help but think
that Og feasted on food of the gods. Many of them brought fresh meat and
gave it to him just to be able to smell the appetizing aroma that it gave
off as he cooked it. And Wab, as he witnessed this and ate of the choice
gifts to his son, could not help but think back on former days when they
had cast him out and thrown him polished bones and decayed scraps. And as
he thought he could not help but marvel at the greatness of his son.
There were some among these visitors who became really friendly with Og.
He liked them and encouraged their friendship and gave them scraps of
cooked meat so that they could enjoy his feasting with him. For some
reason Og found a keen delight in doing this and he always watched the
expressions with interest when they pulled apart the steaming morsels
with their fingers and teeth and tasted the flavor that the fire had
given the meat. Every one of his visitors enjoyed the taste of cooked
meat and they all told of the delight among their friends until it was
not long before Og was besought by scores to cook meat for them so that
they too could try the pleasure of this new-found delight.
Their number grew and grew and Og did the best that he could to favor
all of them, but he noticed with interest that never once did Gog appear
at the fire. The old leader was often to be seen stalking by when others
were gathered about his cave door, but he pretended not to take notice of
Og and his fire.
The hairy boy soon guessed that the old savage was jealous of his power
and his popularity and it was not long before he knew that he had guessed
right, for through his friends Og heard of the talk that Gog was making
among the hairy people. It was talk that even worried Og a little for
the old leader whispered that Og was in league with evil monsters and
the dead. Og did not know just what he meant but the suggestion had
a sinister sound. So far the hairy folk had not progressed far enough
up the scale of intelligence to even think of witchcraft and secret
alliances with the spirit world. But they did know that death was a
sinister thing and that one who had died passed through an experience
that was beyond their comprehension and very uncanny. For a living being
to be allied with those who were dead was a fearsome thing even to think
about. And most of the hairy people remembered that he had been left
behind when the tribe had fled from the wrath of the volcano. Perhaps he
had been dead and had come back from the dead world again.
Some of Og’s friends dropped away from him when Gog began to make such
talk. But others of stouter heart, who had eaten much of Og’s cooked meat
and had been closer to him, remained loyal and denied Og’s fellowship
with the dead. And they were the stronger and more intelligent men of the
tribe. Indeed they perceived that Og had a great deal that was good about
him and they understood too that his control over the Fire Monster could
bring much good to the clan if only Og could be persuaded to be even more
generous than he had been.
They talked thus among themselves, and they talked so much that soon
their talk took on the nature of a clan council and they gathered about
the council rock, squatted in a big circle while first one and then
another stood upon the rock and talked to the rest; talked and told them
how good Og was and what a great benefit to the tribe he possessed in
his control of fire. They told of the cooked meat over and over again,
and they told of how the great leopard had left Og’s cave unmolested,
and how Og with his fire brands had driven off the woolly rhinoceros.
Again and again they told these things for that was the only way they
knew of arguing their case and carrying home their point to the listeners
squatted in a circle about the great rock.
Og did not gather at the council. He noted too that Gog was not there
either. But both watched the proceedings from their cave doorways; Gog
with much jealous grunting and angry, guttural sounds to his wife; Og
with a strange mixture of pride and selfishness; pride that he should be
so great as to have the clan assemble in council about him, yet selfish,
for he knew that the speakers of the clan were trying to work up the
people to the point where they would come to him and ask him to give to
them the most precious thing he possessed: the fire secret.
The hairy boy knew full well why the council was being held, and as he
watched he wondered just what he should do when the speakers came to him
with gifts of meat and stone hammers and asked him to share his fire
secret with the tribe. The secret meant much to him, for it made of him
one apart from the rest. It meant that he possessed the strongest weapon
that a hairy man could have. It meant that he had warmth and comfort
greater than any others. Why should he share it? It was in the hairy boy
to think of himself first.
Yet somehow this, though, did not seem comforting. There was the council
gathered. He had made a discovery that would benefit all of them. They
realized it. Soon they would come and ask him for his help. All this was
flattering. They thought well of him. They would still think well of him
if he gave them what they asked. But they would not think well of him—he
would not be so great—if he refused. They would say evil things of him as
Gog had done. They would believe the old leader’s suggestions. They would
avoid him. He would have no friends to gather about his fire so they
could all make full belly talk together and feel lazy and drowsy in the
warmth of his fire.
Even to think of the hairy people feeling ill disposed toward him hurt
Og’s pride. He did not want them to think him selfish and mean. It would
make him feel better to have them say among themselves, “Og is kind. Og
is good. Og is a great man.”
This was the elemental problem that tumbled about in Og’s brain and soon
made his head ache until he felt as though it would split. Time and again
he dismissed it with a grunt of disgust and decided as he watched the
council that when the talkers came with their gifts he would say no and
act ugly. But each time he came to that decision back trooped unpleasant
suggestions that made him think and think again. Sometimes he wished
that he never had learned to think at all. He looked at the wolf cubs
stretched out beside the fire and wished that he had the mental comfort
that was theirs.
But still he continued to ponder as he watched the council. And then,
just as the circle was breaking up and the talkers formed in a group
with their gifts in hand ready to come to his cave, Og solved the whole
situation with a pleasant grunt.
He watched the five big hairy men, all his friends, come toward him. As
they approached he stood up, and taking the tiger skin from the floor,
threw it about his shoulders. Why he did this he was not certain. It gave
him a feeling of being bigger, greater of stature and stronger. And so
he stood there until the speakers had approached to the other side of
his fire and had laid down their chunks of dripping meat, their stone
hammers, and their polished bones and pretty stones.
Then one spoke.
“O Og, the Hairy People ask it. They say ‘Og is great. Og is good. He has
a friend in the Fire Monster. He knows the secret.’ They ask ‘Will you, O
great Og, give all of us the fire so that we can protect our caves, cook
our food and be as comfortable as you are?’ O Og, I ask for them. Will
you give us fires of our own?”
Og stretched himself to his full height and looked at them very solemnly
for a long time, as if he were thinking. But he was not thinking of
whether he would give them the fire or not. He was thinking of how
pleasant it was that he should have all the strong men of the tribe
asking a favor of him. It was pleasant, indeed.
Presently he spoke.
“My friend the fire I will give to my friends the hairy people. They
shall have fires of their own. From this fire in front of my home cave I
will build other fires. Tell the hairy people each to go to their home
cave. Build many sticks in the doorway as you have seen me build mine.
Then will Og come with fire from this fire and light each of them. All
the hairy people who wish it shall have a fire of their own. Tell them to
feed it well with sticks through daylight and darkness, for if it goes
out and I have to bring fire again I will take away with me pay, meat
perhaps or a stone hammer or something I desire. It is well. Go. Tell the
people.” And Og dismissed them with a wave of his hand for he was indeed
feeling big and pompous and very important.
The speakers left with much grinning and grunting among themselves.
“Og is great. Og is good. Og is kind,” they said, and Og, hearing them,
felt a warm glow surge over him. They thought well of him. He was proud.
He was happy. So too was Wab, his father, who sat a little way off and
listened with many a proud grunt of satisfaction.
And so the hairy people at the council rock heard Og’s message from the
speakers. They scattered from the council grounds and each began to
gather great bundles of sticks which they carried up the face of the
cliff to the doorway of each dwelling.
And when evening came on, Og, with great dignity, and with the tiger skin
across his shoulders, set forth from his cave with a torch in each hand.
And when the hairy folk saw him coming they raised a great shout, and
watched him as he went from doorway to doorway and ignited each pile of
sticks. Og was The Fire Lighter to the tribe then. A personage, indeed,
something between chief and priest he seemed to the hairy folk, who
greeted him with loud acclaim.
And as nightfall settled over the valley of the hairy folk the cliff side
sparkled with many lights, for before each cave burned a cheery fire;
before each cave save that of Gog, the chief. He, stubbornly jealous,
had not built a pile of sticks before his door, and when Og saw this he
passed by.
Thus did Og give fire to the race of hairy men, giving it generously, but
saving for himself the secret he had discovered: the secret of the fire
stones.