LONGHEAD:
_THE STORY OF THE FIRST FIRE_
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.
[Illustration: "THEY CAUGHT SIGHT OF THE LIGHT MADE BY THE FIRE."
(_See Page 63._)]
Longhead: The Story of the First Fire
BY C. H. ROBINSON
Author of "Hawk: The Young Osage," etc.
Illustrated by CHARLES LIVINGSTON BULL
BOSTON L. C. PAGE &
COMPANY MDCCCCXIII
_Copyright, 1913_,
BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
_All rights reserved_
First Impression, July, 1913
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C. H. SIMONDS & CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. INTRODUCTION OF FIRE 1
II. WEAPONS--COOKED FOOD--COMPANIONSHIP 36
III. GERMS OF SOCIAL ORGANIZATION 62
IV. CO-OPERATION 76
V. DAWN OF INVENTION, ART, MARRIAGE,
RELIGION AND GOVERNMENT 97
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"THEY CAUGHT SIGHT OF THE LIGHT MADE
BY THE FIRE" (_See page 63_) _Frontispiece_
"A HUGE TIGER WHICH WAS SLOWLY CREEPING
UP BEHIND HIM" 5
"AFTER SOME VIGOROUS BLOWING, PRODUCED
FLAME" 33
"SOON THEY HAD A TOLERABLY FIRM PATH
FROM THE SOLID GROUND TO A PLACE
NEAR THE GREAT BEAST" 82
LONGHEAD: THE STORY OF THE FIRST FIRE
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION OF FIRE
"A fire-mist and a planet,
A crystal and a cell,
A jelly-fish and a saurian,
And a cave where the cave-men dwell;
Then a sense of law and beauty
And a face turned from the clod,--
Some call it Evolution,
And others call it God."
A strange-looking animal was running across the open glade toward the
forest. It looked something like a human being, but was entirely naked.
Its body, except on the palms of the hands and soles of the feet, was
covered with reddish-brown hair, but on the head it was nearly black
and long and matted; while on the rest of the body it was short and
curled--nearly fur, in fact. Its arms were long, reaching below the
knees, and the great toes, as it ran, stood nearly at right angles to
the others.
The animal carried no weapon of any kind, if we except a club or staff
broken from a dry branch, which it seemed to use in maintaining an
upright position as it hurried toward a large tree with pendent branches
which stood at the edge of the forest.
Just as the creature reached the outer branches, which extended nearly
to the ground, a storm, which had been rapidly approaching, burst with
great violence. There was a loud clap of thunder, a bolt of lightning
tore the tree to splinters, and the animal fell to the ground, stunned
by the shock. It lay unconscious for some time, and the thunder shower
had passed, leaving the sun shining brightly, when it raised its head
and sat up. At first it slowly rubbed its body and head, and then,
reaching full consciousness, its attention was attracted by a roaring
and crackling sound a short distance away.
The lightning had prostrated the tree and had set fire to a mass of
brush and logs lying at its roots. The beast sprang to its feet in
astonishment and alarm.
The animal was one of our primitive ancestors, and he now saw fire for
the first time.
As his body, chilled by the recent rain, began to feel the warmth, he
first drew near, but as the heat increased, he was compelled to
withdraw to a greater distance. He gazed as if fascinated, however, at
the curious sight for a long time.
When it began to grow dark, he was surprised to see that the forest for
some distance around, remained nearly as light as day.
[Illustration: "A HUGE TIGER WHICH WAS SLOWLY CREEPING UP BEHIND HIM."]
His feeble intellect, however, soon wearied of the new sensation, and he
withdrew to an overhanging rock near-by. He knew of a small cave at its
base with a narrow entrance, and of this he at once took possession,
rolling against the opening some masses of stone lying near and piling
in others after he had entered, until he had secured the opening against
any dangerous animal. He gave little further thought to the phenomena of
the fire, for man had not yet reached a development in intellect which
permitted a consecutive train of thought for any considerable length of
time. He slept soundly, but when he crawled from his refuge in the
morning, the smoke still rising from the pile of logs and brush
attracted his attention and recalled to his mind what had occurred the
evening before. He approached the fire, which had nearly consumed its
supply of fuel, but was smouldering still in a large decayed log and the
ends of several poles which lay partly in a bed of glowing coals.
So much was the man now interested in this new phenomenon that he forgot
for a moment his usual caution when in the forest, and failed to observe
a huge tiger which was slowly creeping up behind him, and, but for the
sharp sound of a dry stick breaking under the animal's weight, this
story would have ended then and there.
The man had just drawn from the fire a burning pole and was examining
with much curiosity its glowing end, when the sound caused him to turn,
only to meet the tiger, which had made its leap. The man bounded to one
side, and at the same time, more by accident than design, he thrust the
burning stick against the animal's breast. The fierce beast came against
it with such impact that it penetrated through the skin and into the
flesh. With a scream of terror and pain and many snarls and spits, the
tiger began biting the injured spot and then turned and fled into the
forest. Our man, who had given himself up for lost, stared in
bewilderment at the retreating animal and then at the pole which had
saved his life. He thought longer and more deeply than he had ever done
before, as he stood beside the smouldering embers. Without any
particular reason for his action, he gathered up some of the unconsumed
ends of the branches, cast them into the coals, and was much amused to
see them ignited and the flame renewed. It was a new plaything, and for
a long time he continued to pile sticks upon the coals and to delight in
the bright flame, the ascending smoke and the crackling sparks; but that
he could make any practical use of his new discovery had not yet been
suggested to his feeble intellect.
Tiring at length of the sport, he realized that he was hungry, and,
turning into the forest, he sought for food. For some hours he roamed
the hills and valleys, striking down with his stick a small animal which
he devoured raw; finding a few grubs under fallen logs which he turned
over; and he found also a few berries, prematurely ripened, and finally
satisfied his ravenous appetite by filling his stomach with buds of
shrubs and some succulent roots, which experience had taught him were
not injurious and were at least satisfying.
By this time he had reached a part of the forest in which he had been
making his home for a few weeks and, seeking out a tree, in which he had
constructed a sort of nest with interlaced sticks and leaves, he lay
down for a nap. He wakened late in the afternoon, climbed to the ground
and started on an aimless walk through the forest, carrying his stick,
but no other weapon, for other weapons than stones for throwing and
sticks for striking were then unknown.
Most of the people in the group to which he belonged had short round
heads, such as scientists call brachiocephalic, but this man was
dolichocephalous, or longheaded, and this peculiarity had given him the
name of Longhead among this group at the few gatherings of these people,
which happened occasionally, more by accident than design, for they had
no social organization whatever. They had no laws; no leaders; no
permanent habitations and wore no clothing. They slept in nests built in
the branches of trees at night, or sought shelter in any chance caves
of the region through which they roved. This had no defined boundaries
and they remained in the locality only because they found food fairly
plentiful.
As yet, there was not even family organization, for it was many ages
after this time before it dawned upon man anywhere that the male animal
played any part in the propagation of species. To the ordinary and usual
phenomena of nature our primitive forefathers never gave a thought or
question, but accepted them without speculation as to their cause or
fear as to their continuance, so long as regularity obtained. The rising
and setting of the sun were to him perfectly natural events of daily
occurrence from his childhood, and had so continued during the
recollection of the oldest members of the group, and it was only when
eclipses occurred, breaking this orderly continuity, that he felt at all
alarmed. It was natural for the moon to shed her soft light when not
obscured by clouds, and even its waxing and waning occasioned no alarm,
for this, likewise, had continued "since the fathers fell asleep." There
was nothing strange about the gentle dew descending by night or rain
falling from the clouds; these he had observed from his earliest youth;
but when the loud thunders reverberated through the hills, and the
forked lightnings flashed athwart the sky, frequently rending the giant
trees of the forest or bringing sudden death to a comrade, this
mysterious and dangerous display of an unknown power, was, to him,
alarming, and he early attributed these and all other infrequent or
unaccountable phenomena to supernatural beings with whom his fancy
peopled the hills and forests, the rivers and the sky.
It was entirely natural to primitive man that in the spring the trees
and plants should bud and send forth leaves and blossoms, to be followed
later by fruit, "each after its kind." This, also, had always occurred
from his earliest recollection and that of his elders, and it occasioned
no thought upon his part. It was only when floods, drouths and other
calamities interfered with this orderly sequence of events that any
mystery was presented or any thought required. It is clear that among
these common and natural occurrences, which were simply accepted without
question because they had always happened, must be classed the bringing
forth of young by all mammals. Man had always observed that the females
of all the animals about him brought forth young, "each after its kind."
This was to be expected and gave him no surprise, nor, in the then
condition of his intellect, did it give rise to a thought as to its
cause. Likewise, his own womankind gave birth to young, from time to
time, just as did the other animals, and there was no cause for
speculation or thought in regard to this; the occurrence was too common
to be a mystery.
There being then no knowledge of fatherhood, there were no fathers, and
for many generations no relatives were known except in the female line.
Consequently, there was no family hearthstone; no paternal love; no
marriage. The relations of the sexes was purely physical and were
generally indiscriminate, as opportunity might afford; but doubtless,
with some, this companionship was continued for a longer or shorter
period, as circumstances or congeniality might induce.
In these ages, and they were long ones among some peoples, it is obvious
that there could have been no such emotion as paternal love, for no man
even suspected that he was a father. No man experienced the exquisite
pleasure of hearing the first cry of his first-born child; no man heard
"Dada," from infant lips. No man assisted in the support of his children
or took part in their care, except unconsciously as he aided in the
maintenance of the children of the group or tribe; no man cared more for
the mother of his children than he did for any other woman who might
attract his fancy or passion. Above all, the men and women of that long
epoch were strangers to the sacred companionship, the life-long
attachment and communion of souls with mutual interests which attach to
the true marriage of to-day. The children were the common care of the
group or tribe; the boys that they might grow up to be hunters and
warriors, and the girls that they might contribute to the sensual
enjoyment of the men, or, if it pleased the spirits, or stars, or some
other supernatural agency, might become mothers for the perpetuation of
the tribe. In times of extreme danger, famine or privation, or when too
feeble to follow the migrations of the group, the babies, especially the
female ones, were ruthlessly abandoned to wild beasts or slaughtered
outright. There existed, doubtless, the mother instinct which prompts
females, even among the lower animals, to care for and defend their
offspring, but it certainly fell far short of the mother love among
civilized peoples.
After wandering aimlessly a number of miles, Longhead encountered a
female of his own species who was not altogether unknown to him. They
had met occasionally at the infrequent gatherings of the people who
inhabited that part of the forest, and on one or two occasions had
remained together for a few days in that anomalous companionship which
took the place of marriage in those far-off days. There was no kiss,
caress or other sign of affection or pleasure; the pair merely gave each
other a friendly grin and grunted in a satisfactory tone. Words were
scarce in the vocabulary of the people of that epoch, and they
communicated with each other largely by means of signs, gesticulation
and pantomime. The woman could not have been called handsome, according
to our ideas of beauty. She, too, was naked and hairy, but the hair on
her head was longer and less matted than on that of the man, and was
held back from her face by being drawn behind the ears with a strip of
bark twisted about her head to keep it somewhat in that condition. Her
body was smaller than that of Longhead; but her limbs were slender and
ungainly and her stomach also protruded, in consequence of the
quantities of coarse vegetable food required to sustain life. By an
accident in childhood, she had lost one of her front teeth, and on this
account, she was known as Broken Tooth.
The woman soon gave Longhead to understand that she was hungry. The
protective, or probably, the sexual instinct, prompted him to act as a
provider, and he offered to assist her in a search for food. Together
they roamed, finding here a few grubs and there a juicy root, and
finally the man killed a small animal with his club, which they shared,
Longhead tearing it in pieces with his hands and teeth and throwing
small pieces to Broken Tooth, which he admiringly watched her devour.
Her appetite finally satisfied, she lay back in the sunshine against the
roots of a tree, closed her eyes in great contentment, and began a
conversation with her companion in the few words then constituting the
human vocabulary. She recalled their last meeting and asked why she had
not seen him at any of the gatherings of the group since. He told her
that in consequence of the jealousy of one of the giants of the group to
which they both belonged, who had resented his attentions to one of the
females of his harem, he had become involved in a fight with the giant
in which he had been beaten nearly to death, and that, fearing to
remain with his fellows, as well as on account of his serious injuries,
he had retired to a distant part of the forest where he had found
sufficient food and had recovered his strength. He told her that he had
rather enjoyed his isolation and, had present company been with him in
his forced retirement, he would have been entirely content. At this
statement, the woman merely gave an incredulous sniff.
The man then related numerous encounters with wild animals, in which, of
course, he had come off successfully--and just here he recollected his
strange experience with the fire and his encounter with the tiger. With
great truthfulness, and as much detail as his vocabulary permitted, he
told her what had occurred to him the evening before and that very
morning. How, seeking for refuge from a storm, he had been suddenly
stricken unconscious, by what means he did not know; and the strange
sight he had witnessed on recovery. He told her, also, of his adventure
with the tiger that morning and its discomfiture. Broken Tooth laughed
long and loudly at this and was wholly incredulous. Such a thing had
never happened before, and consequently could not have happened now. She
asked him what kind of a weed he had been eating, and said she was not
born yesterday to believe such nonsense. This led to quite a discussion,
the man insisting upon the reality of his experiences and the woman
ridiculing the whole narrative as impossible. The colloquy finally ended
by her asking him to conduct her to the place where he claimed such
wonderful things had happened, that she might see if anything remained
there to confirm his absurd story. Longhead assented and, as it was not
far distant, they arrived at the locality a little before dark. The fire
still smouldered in the decayed log and numerous sticks still smoked at
their ends. Mindful of his morning's amusement, Longhead gathered a
number of the burning poles, placed their glowing ends together and
threw on them some dry leaves and twigs. In a moment a column of smoke
began to ascend, followed soon by a tongue of bright flame and many
rising and glowing sparks. One of these Broken Tooth caught in her
hand, but dropped it with an exclamation of pain. "If a small one hurts
so much, I don't wonder your tiger fled when you thrust a large one
against his breast," she said.
Long they played with the fire, throwing upon it sticks and dry
branches, and the woman clapped her hands and screamed with delight at
each succeeding shower of sparks.
When at length night came on and the darkness made the firelight more
brilliant, the man piled a large number of sticks on the fire to show
how the forest was lighted up; but finally both became weary of the
sport, and then he told her of the cave near-by--just large enough for
two--and invited her to share it with him for the night. She consented,
and as they were about to start, the man, without any thought of the
effect, gathered up four or five of the sticks with live coals at the
end and placed them together. These he waved in the air to amuse the
woman with the flying sparks, as they passed along, she still screaming
at each successive sparkle, until suddenly a bright flame shot up and,
by accident, like many other valuable discoveries, a torch was invented.
By its light they easily made their way to the rocky platform in front
of the cave sheltered by the overhanging rock, and when Longhead cast
down the torch Broken Tooth placed the ends of the burning sticks
together as she had seen him do, and again the flame shot up. The new
experience was too delightful to be given up, and, at the woman's
suggestion, they gathered large armfuls of dry branches and some heavy
logs which lay scattered about near the platform, which they piled up
and from time to time added to the fire.
The night was cool, but as they sat back against the wall of rock under
the sloping cliff to watch the blaze and flying sparks, a pleasant
warmth, new to their experience, pervaded their bodies, and they gave
themselves up to the luxury of the sensation.
The fire roared and blazed merrily, Broken Tooth shouted in glee, and
Longhead began to think, in a slow ponderous way, that this new agent in
his life might do much for his comfort if it could be perpetuated, but
his mental power was too limited to suggest any method for this.
Their shouts and laughter had attracted the attention of the wild
animals, and all at once Broken Tooth saw two glowing eyes and the
crouching form of a great tiger almost at the edge of the platform.
Longhead caught sight of it at the same moment, and with a yell of fear
each scrambled for the narrow entrance of the cave. Broken Tooth,
lighter of form and quicker of movement, reached it a moment the
soonest, but no promptings of sex, gallantry or politeness prevented
Longhead from throwing her roughly to one side while he attained the
coveted shelter. Once within, he began to fill the entrance with stones,
leaving his companion to the fate which he supposed had already
befallen her, when, greatly to his surprise, she tumbled in unhurt.
Filling the entrance so that it would not admit the body of the tiger,
they peered together through the openings and saw the disappointed
animal pacing back and forth just at the edge of the semi-circle of
brilliant light made by the fire. Long they watched the baffled beast,
and at first they were unable to understand why the animal did not
approach the entrance and attempt to remove the stones and secure his
prey. At length Broken Tooth said: "I believe he is afraid of the fire."
She did not, of course, use the word "fire;" she probably said
"brightness," or some equivalent word, if they had one. Longhead agreed
that this might be the case, and together they watched the animal with
great interest. Finally Longhead, emboldened by the tiger's hesitation,
removed one of the stones, and, protruding his head, shouted in derision
at his ancient enemy. The animal, whose rage or hunger made him
momentarily forget his fear, made a dash toward the cave, but, when he
came within the bright light and felt the heat of the fire, he retreated
precipitately. Longhead finally crawled outside and Broken Tooth soon
followed him. They taunted the great cat with the vilest words they
knew; threw stones at it, and simply revelled in their new sensation of
safety. Here was Old Saber-Tooth, the one animal of all others whose
vicinage carried terror wherever he went, at bay at last. For a while
the animal would make dashes toward them, when Broken Tooth would
tumble into the cave and Longhead draw near the entrance, ready for
instant retreat to safety; but each time the fear of the fire sent the
tiger back beyond the charmed circle of its light, where it gave vent to
its disappointment in savage growls and spittings. At length, wearied by
the unprofitable labor, and awed by the strange light and heat, the
beast disappeared; its snarls and growls grew fainter in the distance
and ceased to be heard. Saber-Tooth had at last found something he
feared, and man a protector.
Delighted with this new feeling of security from danger in the night,
the man and woman sat long before the cheerful blaze and enjoyed its
grateful warmth. They agreed that wild animals were afraid of this new
agent, and if they could always have its protection they would have
nothing to fear from them; but to their weak intellects no thought of an
attempt to perpetuate the fire was suggested.
When their fuel was exhausted and nothing but a bed of glowing coals
remained, they retired to the cave, carefully closing the entrance
against the possible return of the tiger or the attack of some other
animal, for they realized that the fire, being now nearly out, they
could no longer depend upon it for protection.
Late in the morning Longhead and Broken Tooth emerged from the cave. The
fire was out and the ashes cold. When they thought of the pleasurable
warmth it had produced and the protection it had afforded they indulged
in some expressions of regret that it was gone, and then thought no more
about it. They soon made their way to the place of the smouldering log,
but it was now nearly consumed. Directly the woman noticed two or three
tiny threads of smoke, and on investigation they found that some dry
excrescences, which we call "punk," had fallen away from the burning log
and that on one side of each was a small spark. Broken Tooth took up one
of these and, noting the white ash so like the down on certain plants
which she had often blown away in sport, she blew upon it as she held it
in her hand, and was delighted to see the spark spread and glow afresh.
Longhead, too, picked up a piece of the lighted punk and, after blowing
upon it for a few minutes, dropped it carelessly at his feet, where it
fell upon some dry rotten wood and leaves. Without noticing this, he
watched the amusement of his companion as she made the sparks fly from
the piece she held, and then, suddenly, with a yell of pain, he jumped
aside and hopped about on one foot, holding the other in his hand. The
rotten wood and leaves upon which he had dropped the punk had ignited
and the fire had reached his foot. He now understood the defeat of the
tiger the morning before, and had ocular and painful demonstration of
the fact that punk will retain fire, at least for a few hours.
[Illustration: "AFTER SOME VIGOROUS BLOWING, PRODUCED FLAME."]
Longhead now seemed to wake up; at last he had an idea, and he talked it
over with the woman as they slowly returned to the cave platform, each
carrying a piece of the lighted punk. Once there, the man sought for
dry, rotten wood and small twigs, which they piled upon the punk and,
after some vigorous blowing, produced flame.
An idea was born; a discovery was made; the greatest in all time. Broken
Tooth remained to maintain the fire by putting on fresh fuel, while
Longhead carried armfuls of sticks and logs from the forest, together
with pieces of punk for future use. The punk he piled at the cave
entrance to keep it dry, and man was now master of fire, the most
beneficent of nature's gifts. Thenceforth it only remained that a
plentiful supply of dry fuel and punk should be maintained at the cave,
and their comfort and safety were assured.
Their delight at their mutual discovery--for Longhead insisted that if
Broken Tooth had not blown upon the punk for amusement, he would not
have discovered a method for the preservation of the fire--drew the two
closer together as having a great secret in common. The necessity that
the fire be supplied with fuel that it might be kept alive, and that
fresh fire might occasionally be applied to the pieces of punk,
suggested that one should remain for that purpose; and when Longhead
proposed that the two should remain permanently together, the woman to
keep the fire alive while the man sought for food for both, Broken Tooth
agreed at once; and thus came about the first union resembling marriage
in which the man became the provider and the woman the home-keeper.