GOG PASSES ON
Og, tired but triumphant, with a dead goat slung over his shoulders and
the wolf dogs trotting at his heels, returned to the home cave just
before nightfall, as all of the cave dwelling people did, for not even
the bravest was willing to be caught far from the protection of the
colony when darkness came on.
But as he approached the cave he experienced a sensation of fear and
dread. He knew instinctively that something was wrong, for the fire in
the doorway had burned down to just a smouldering heap of dying embers.
Og knew that Wab would never have been so inattentive unless something
had happened.
Hastily he went forward calling, but as he entered the big cave his heart
fell, for Wab was not about. He noted instantly that one of his stone
hammers was gone from its accustomed place and that Wab’s cherished flint
knife had disappeared from the cleft in the rock wall where he always
kept it.
The strange demeanor of the wolf dogs added a great deal to the
discomfort that these observations caused him, for so soon as they
entered the cave they bristled and growled and stepped about in
stiff-legged anger just as they always did when Gog visited the cave.
They sniffed at the ground, too, and trotted a little way from the cave
in the direction of the forest.
Og could almost read the problem, but just then two hairy men, Big Face
and Crooked Feet, passed, going toward the spring, and when they saw
Og they told him of how they had seen Wab go off hunting with Gog that
morning.
In an instant the whole situation dawned on Og. Gog had taken his
helpless father off into the forest and Og instinctively knew that
treachery of some sort or another was afoot.
He heaped sticks onto the fire and sat down for a few moments to think
things over. Night was coming on. The forest would be a terrible place to
travel in at night. But he thought too of his father and the terror that
must come upon a man all but blind who might be left to wander about in
the forest alone.
That thought was enough for Og. He must find his father. He must risk any
dangers or any of the night terrors to find Wab. Hastily he made two fire
brands and ignited them. Then, arming himself also with stone hammer and
a long flint knife, he called to the wolf dogs. The animals he quickly
made to understand just what was wanted of them, and when they did know
their mission they bounded forward despite the fact that they were tired,
and with noses to the ground followed the trail of Wab and Gog, while Og
swung along behind them at a remarkably swift pace despite the fact that
he too was tired from his day’s efforts.
Into the black fastness of the forest they plunged, their only light
being the glimmer from Og’s torches. Despite his courage and the
importance of his mission, Og could not stifle the natural, instinctive
fear that possessed him as he dodged in and out among the trees, his eyes
and ears alert for any signs of danger.
Southward they swung toward the mountain range that cut their valley off
from the valley of the warm lands beyond, and presently they began to
mount the thickly wooded slopes. Strange night noises they heard aplenty.
To most of these the wolf dogs paid little heed, but when from afar they
heard the terrifying roar of a cave tiger and the answering challenge of
some wandering cave leopard, the hair on their backs bristled. So did
that of Og, and he actually trembled with fear despite the stoutness of
his heart. This traveling at night through the forest was a fearsome
thing to do, and time and again he was tempted to seek the shelter of
some huge bowlder, and build a great fire beside which to spend the
remainder of the night.
But the thoughts of his father somewhere here in the terrible forest, and
without fire (for Og knew that Wab, or Gog either, would never travel
with a fire in his hand the way he did), spurred the hairy boy on to move
faster and put aside the desire to build a big protective fire at least
until he had found his father.
Upward on the mountain side they climbed, the wolf dogs following closely
the trail that Gog and Wab had taken. On and on they pushed, soon panting
and out of breath. Og’s lungs were pumping, too, and he sucked in air in
great gasps; but still he climbed and kept pace with the hurrying dogs.
Soon they reached the gently rolling summit, where if it had been
daylight they could have looked into the valley below. But as they halted
there a brief space to catch their breaths, Og gave a loud and startled
grunt, for from below him, and in the direction the wolf dogs were
straining to go, rolled up to him a loud, booming sound. Og had little
difficulty in recognizing it as the war noise of his old captors, the
tree people. And this all added to his feeling of alarm, for he could
tell by the volume of the sound that there were many ape-like men below
there in the valley and they were very angry.
If Og and the wolf dogs had hurried before now, they fairly raced through
the blackness of the forest. Down the slope they crashed, the booming
noise growing louder and nearer at every step. And as they plunged
forward both Og and the wolf dogs grew more and more excited, until
presently the hairy boy found himself beating his chest with one clenched
hand and roaring at the top of his voice while the dogs set up a fierce
barking that added to the general din of the occasion.
Suddenly the booming sound, which now seemed close at hand, stopped and
Og became aware of big forms swinging among the branches of the trees.
Sticks came pelting down out of the blackness, too, and he could see
myriads of green eyes glowing at him and he could hear teeth gnashed and
clicked together. Still he rushed forward until presently he broke into a
clearing where was massed a horde of milling, chattering tree people.
His coming, however, caused panic and consternation among them. They saw
his flaming firebrand and they scattered and fell back. And the parting
of the mass left a lane open that extended to a huge rock where, with
their backs to this wall, stood Gog and Wab, each with a blood-smeared
stone hammer clutched in his hand while before them laid a pile of
writhing bodies of tree people. Og could see at a glance that it had been
a terrible battle and that Gog and Wab were all but done for. Indeed,
Gog, dripping blood from a hundred terrible wounds, staggered and swayed
as he stood there, and Wab had to lean against the rock for support.
At Og’s coming the conflict ceased for most of the ape people scattered
and took to trees where they stared down, chattering loudly and gnashing
their teeth in anger and fear. Og strode across the bodies of the fallen
ones and, standing there beside Wab, his burning torch held high, glared
about.
By the light of the flickering flames he could see great, long-armed,
crouching forms all about. Some of these he recognized as the powerful
fighters of Scar Face. And presently he discerned the old fighter
himself, coming slowly toward him, grimacing and chattering and holding
up his hands as a sign of peace. Og beheld him with interest and not a
little pleasure, for often he had thought of him and wondered whether he
had been able to escape the terrible forest fire that he had started when
he stole a firebrand and ran off into the forest with it.
By grunts and signs, Og showed his peaceful intention too, and presently
Scar Face communicated the fact that the hairy boy had not come to wage
war on them, for the chattering and scolding ceased and slowly some began
to approach, while others, the trouble over, scattered among the trees
and became lost in the night.
Og turned his attention then to Gog and Wab, both of whom had collapsed
and now lay huddled and forlorn at the base of the big bowlder. Eagerly
Og searched his father for signs of life, for he feared that the old
hunter had passed on because of the many wounds he had received, and it
was with great relief that he discovered still a strong heart beat.
Gog, however, had fared far worse than Wab. Fierce and terrible as
a fighter, and valiant in battle too, the old leader, his treachery
forgotten in the lust of combat, had carried the brunt of the fight from
the very beginning, wielding a mighty hammer and crushing skulls right
and left. The consequence was that the tree people had attacked him
with utmost fierceness, as scores of bleeding wounds testified. When Og
examined him he found the old leader all but dead. Indeed, even as the
hairy boy leaned over him, Gog’s heart stopped beating and Og turned from
him with a shudder. The fierce old warrior had passed on to the land of
dead men.
By signs and grunts Og made Scar Face understand that he wanted to carry
the unconscious Wab back over the mountain and into the valley of the
hairy people, and when the tree man understood he was quick to lend his
tremendous strength and between them they carried the limp form of Og’s
father up the slope to the top of the mountain. There Scar Face refused
to go farther, so Og shouldered the burden alone and picked his way
slowly down the rocky, wooded slope, with the wolf dogs, tails drooping,
at his heels. It was a hard journey for the tired hairy boy, and day was
breaking over the eastern mountain tops before he reached the council
grounds and the friendly shelter of the big home cave, where he could
rest once more and care for the many wounds of his father.
THE END.