In the days when Eudena and Ugh-lomi fled from the people of Uya towards
the fir-clad mountains of the Weald, across the forests of sweet
chestnut and the grass-clad chalkland, and hid themselves at last in the
gorge of the river between the chalk cliffs, men were few and their
squatting-places far between. The nearest men to them were those of the
tribe, a full day's journey down the river, and up the mountains there
were none. Man was indeed a newcomer to this part of the world in that
ancient time, coming slowly along the rivers, generation after
generation, from one squatting-place to another, from the
south-westward. And the animals that held the land, the hippopotamus and
rhinoceros of the river valleys, the horses of the grass plains, the
deer and swine of the woods, the grey apes in the branches, the cattle
of the uplands, feared him but little--let alone the mammoths in the
mountains and the elephants that came through the land in the
summer-time out of the south. For why should they fear him, with but the
rough, chipped flints that he had not learnt to haft and which he threw
but ill, and the poor spear of sharpened wood, as all the weapons he had
against hoof and horn, tooth and claw?
Andoo, the huge cave bear, who lived in the cave up the gorge, had never
even seen a man in all his wise and respectable life, until midway
through one night, as he was prowling down the gorge along the cliff
edge, he saw the glare of Eudena's fire upon the ledge, and Eudena red
and shining, and Ugh-lomi, with a gigantic shadow mocking him upon the
white cliff, going to and fro, shaking his mane of hair, and waving the
axe of stone--the first axe of stone--while he chanted of the killing
of Uya. The cave bear was far up the gorge, and he saw the thing
slanting-ways and far off. He was so surprised he stood quite still upon
the edge, sniffing the novel odour of burning bracken, and wondering
whether the dawn was coming up in the wrong place.
He was the lord of the rocks and caves, was the cave bear, as his
slighter brother, the grizzly, was lord of the thick woods below, and as
the dappled lion--the lion of those days was dappled--was lord of the
thorn-thickets, reed-beds, and open plains. He was the greatest of all
meat-eaters; he knew no fear, none preyed on him, and none gave him
battle; only the rhinoceros was beyond his strength. Even the mammoth
shunned his country. This invasion perplexed him. He noticed these new
beasts were shaped like monkeys, and sparsely hairy like young pigs.
"Monkey and young pig," said the cave bear. "It might not be so bad. But
that red thing that jumps, and the black thing jumping with it yonder!
Never in my life have I seen such things before!"
He came slowly along the brow of the cliff towards them, stopping thrice
to sniff and peer, and the reek of the fire grew stronger. A couple of
hyaenas also were so intent upon the thing below that Andoo, coming soft
and easy, was close upon them before they knew of him or he of them.
They started guiltily and went lurching off. Coming round in a wheel, a
hundred yards off, they began yelling and calling him names to revenge
themselves for the start they had had. "Ya-ha!" they cried. "Who can't
grub his own burrow? Who eats roots like a pig?... Ya-ha!" for even in
those days the hyaena's manners were just as offensive as they are now.
"Who answers the hyaena?" growled Andoo, peering through the midnight
dimness at them, and then going to look at the cliff edge.
There was Ugh-lomi still telling his story, and the fire getting low,
and the scent of the burning hot and strong.
Andoo stood on the edge of the chalk cliff for some time, shifting his
vast weight from foot to foot, and swaying his head to and fro, with his
mouth open, his ears erect and twitching, and the nostrils of his big,
black muzzle sniffing. He was very curious, was the cave bear, more
curious than any of the bears that live now, and the flickering fire and
the incomprehensible movements of the man, let alone the intrusion into
his indisputable province, stirred him with a sense of strange new
happenings. He had been after red deer fawn that night, for the cave
bear was a miscellaneous hunter, but this quite turned him from that
enterprise.
"Ya-ha!" yelled the hyaenas behind. "Ya-ha-ha!"
Peering through the starlight, Andoo saw there were now three or four
going to and fro against the grey hillside. "They will hang about me now
all the night ... until I kill," said Andoo. "Filth of the world!" And
mainly to annoy them, he resolved to watch the red flicker in the gorge
until the dawn came to drive the hyaena scum home. And after a time they
vanished, and he heard their voices, like a party of Cockney
beanfeasters, away in the beechwoods. Then they came slinking near
again. Andoo yawned and went on along the cliff, and they followed. Then
he stopped and went back.
It was a splendid night, beset with shining constellations, the same
stars, but not the same constellations we know, for since those days all
the stars have had time to move into new places. Far away across the
open space beyond where the heavy-shouldered, lean-bodied hyaenas
blundered and howled, was a beechwood, and the mountain slopes rose
beyond, a dim mystery, until their snow-capped summits came out white
and cold and clear, touched by the first rays of the yet unseen moon. It
was a vast silence, save when the yell of the hyaenas flung a vanishing
discordance across its peace, or when from down the hills the trumpeting
of the new-come elephants came faintly on the faint breeze. And below
now, the red flicker had dwindled and was steady, and shone a deeper
red, and Ugh-lomi had finished his story and was preparing to sleep, and
Eudena sat and listened to the strange voices of unknown beasts, and
watched the dark eastern sky growing deeply luminous at the advent of
the moon. Down below, the river talked to itself, and things unseen went
to and fro.
After a time the bear went away, but in an hour he was back again. Then,
as if struck by a thought, he turned, and went up the gorge....
The night passed, and Ugh-lomi slept on. The waning moon rose and lit
the gaunt white cliff overhead with a light that was pale and vague. The
gorge remained in a deeper shadow and seemed all the darker. Then by
imperceptible degrees, the day came stealing in the wake of the
moonlight. Eudena's eyes wandered to the cliff brow overhead once, and
then again. Each time the line was sharp and clear against the sky, and
yet she had a dim perception of something lurking there. The red of the
fire grew deeper and deeper, grey scales spread upon it, its vertical
column of smoke became more and more visible, and up and down the gorge
things that had been unseen grew clear in a colourless illumination. She
may have dozed.
Suddenly she started up from her squatting position, erect and alert,
scrutinising the cliff up and down.
She made the faintest sound, and Ugh-lomi too, light-sleeping like an
animal, was instantly awake. He caught up his axe and came noiselessly
to her side.
The light was still dim, the world now all in black and dark grey, and
one sickly star still lingered overhead. The ledge they were on was a
little grassy space, six feet wide, perhaps, and twenty feet long,
sloping outwardly, and with a handful of St. John's wort growing near
the edge. Below it the soft, white rock fell away in a steep slope of
nearly fifty feet to the thick bush of hazel that fringed the river.
Down the river this slope increased, until some way off a thin grass
held its own right up to the crest of the cliff. Overhead, forty or
fifty feet of rock bulged into the great masses characteristic of
chalk, but at the end of the ledge a gully, a precipitous groove of
discoloured rock, slashed the face of the cliff, and gave a footing to a
scrubby growth, by which Eudena and Ugh-lomi went up and down.
They stood as noiseless as startled deer, with every sense expectant.
For a minute they heard nothing, and then came a faint rattling of dust
down the gully, and the creaking of twigs.
Ugh-lomi gripped his axe, and went to the edge of the ledge, for the
bulge of the chalk overhead had hidden the upper part of the gully. And
forthwith, with a sudden contraction of the heart, he saw the cave bear
half-way down from the brow, and making a gingerly backward step with
his flat hind-foot. His hind-quarters were towards Ugh-lomi, and he
clawed at the rocks and bushes so that he seemed flattened against the
cliff. He looked none the less for that. From his shining snout to his
stumpy tail he was a lion and a half, the length of two tall men. He
looked over his shoulder, and his huge mouth was open with the exertion
of holding up his great carcase, and his tongue lay out....
He got his footing, and came down slowly, a yard nearer.
"Bear," said Ugh-lomi, looking round with his face white.
But Eudena, with terror in her eyes, was pointing down the cliff.
Ugh-lomi's mouth fell open. For down below, with her big fore-feet
against the rock, stood another big brown-grey bulk--the she-bear. She
was not so big as Andoo, but she was big enough for all that.
Then suddenly Ugh-lomi gave a cry, and catching up a handful of the
litter of ferns that lay scattered on the ledge, he thrust it into the
pallid ash of the fire. "Brother Fire!" he cried, "Brother Fire!" And
Eudena, starting into activity, did likewise. "Brother Fire! Help, help!
Brother Fire!"
Brother Fire was still red in his heart, but he turned to grey as they
scattered him. "Brother Fire!" they screamed. But he whispered and
passed, and there was nothing but ashes. Then Ugh-lomi danced with anger
and struck the ashes with his fist. But Eudena began to hammer the
firestone against a flint. And the eyes of each were turning ever and
again towards the gully by which Andoo was climbing down. Brother Fire!
Suddenly the huge furry hind-quarters of the bear came into view,
beneath the bulge of the chalk that had hidden him. He was still
clambering gingerly down the nearly vertical surface. His head was yet
out of sight, but they could hear him talking to himself. "Pig and
monkey," said the cave bear. "It ought to be good."
Eudena struck a spark and blew at it; it twinkled brighter and
then--went out. At that she cast down flint and firestone and stared
blankly. Then she sprang to her feet and scrambled a yard or so up the
cliff above the ledge. How she hung on even for a moment I do not know,
for the chalk was vertical and without grip for a monkey. In a couple of
seconds she had slid back to the ledge again with bleeding hands.
Ugh-lomi was making frantic rushes about the ledge--now he would go to
the edge, now to the gully. He did not know what to do, he could not
think. The she-bear looked smaller than her mate--much. If they rushed
down on her together, _one_ might live. "Ugh?" said the cave bear, and
Ugh-lomi turned again and saw his little eyes peering under the bulge of
the chalk.
Eudena, cowering at the end of the ledge, began to scream like a gripped
rabbit.
At that a sort of madness came upon Ugh-lomi. With a mighty cry, he
caught up his axe and ran towards Andoo. The monster gave a grunt of
surprise. In a moment Ugh-lomi was clinging to a bush right underneath
the bear, and in another he was hanging to its back half buried in fur,
with one fist clutched in the hair under its jaw. The bear was too
astonished at this fantastic attack to do more than cling passive. And
then the axe, the first of all axes, rang on its skull.
The bear's head twisted from side to side, and he began a petulant
scolding growl. The axe bit within an inch of the left eye, and the hot
blood blinded that side. At that the brute roared with surprise and
anger, and his teeth gnashed six inches from Ugh-lomi's face. Then the
axe, clubbed close, came down heavily on the corner of the jaw.
The next blow blinded the right side and called forth a roar, this time
of pain. Eudena saw the huge, flat feet slipping and sliding, and
suddenly the bear gave a clumsy leap sideways, as if for the ledge. Then
everything vanished, and the hazels smashed, and a roar of pain and a
tumult of shouts and growls came up from far below.
Eudena screamed and ran to the edge and peered over. For a moment, man
and bears were a heap together, Ugh-lomi uppermost; and then he had
sprung clear and was scaling the gully again, with the bears rolling and
striking at one another among the hazels. But he had left his axe below,
and three knob-ended streaks of carmine were shooting down his thigh.
"Up!" he cried, and in a moment Eudena was leading the way to the top of
the cliff.
In half a minute they were at the crest, their hearts pumping noisily,
with Andoo and his wife far and safe below them. Andoo was sitting on
his haunches, both paws at work, trying with quick exasperated movements
to wipe the blindness out of his eyes, and the she-bear stood on
all-fours a little way off, ruffled in appearance and growling angrily.
Ugh-lomi flung himself flat on the grass, and lay panting and bleeding
with his face on his arms.
For a second Eudena regarded the bears, then she came and sat beside
him, looking at him....
Presently she put forth her hand timidly and touched him, and made the
guttural sound that was his name. He turned over and raised himself on
his arm. His face was pale, like the face of one who is afraid. He
looked at her steadfastly for a moment, and then suddenly he laughed.
"Waugh!" he said exultantly.
"Waugh!" said she--a simple but expressive conversation.
Then Ugh-lomi came and knelt beside her, and on hands and knees peered
over the brow and examined the gorge. His breath was steady now, and the
blood on his leg had ceased to flow, though the scratches the she-bear
had made were open and wide. He squatted up and sat staring at the
footmarks of the great bear as they came to the gully--they were as wide
as his head and twice as long. Then he jumped up and went along the
cliff face until the ledge was visible. Here he sat down for some time
thinking, while Eudena watched him. Presently she saw the bears had
gone.
At last Ugh-lomi rose, as one whose mind is made up. He returned towards
the gully, Eudena keeping close by him, and together they clambered to
the ledge. They took the firestone and a flint, and then Ugh-lomi went
down to the foot of the cliff very cautiously, and found his axe. They
returned to the cliff as quietly as they could, and set off at a brisk
walk. The ledge was a home no longer, with such callers in the
neighbourhood. Ugh-lomi carried the axe and Eudena the firestone. So
simple was a Palaeolithic removal.
They went up-stream, although it might lead to the very lair of the
cave bear, because there was no other way to go. Down the stream was the
tribe, and had not Ugh-lomi killed Uya and Wau? By the stream they had
to keep--because of drinking.
So they marched through beech trees, with the gorge deepening until the
river flowed, a frothing rapid, five hundred feet below them. Of all the
changeful things in this world of change, the courses of rivers in deep
valleys change least. It was the river Wey, the river we know to-day,
and they marched over the very spots where nowadays stand little
Guildford and Godalming--the first human beings to come into the land.
Once a grey ape chattered and vanished, and all along the cliff edge,
vast and even, ran the spoor of the great cave bear.
And then the spoor of the bear fell away from the cliff, showing,
Ugh-lomi thought, that he came from some place to the left, and keeping
to the cliff's edge, they presently came to an end. They found
themselves looking down on a great semi-circular space caused by the
collapse of the cliff. It had smashed right across the gorge, banking
the up-stream water back in a pool which overflowed in a rapid. The slip
had happened long ago. It was grassed over, but the face of the cliffs
that stood about the semicircle was still almost fresh-looking and white
as on the day when the rock must have broken and slid down. Starkly
exposed and black under the foot of these cliffs were the mouths of
several caves. And as they stood there, looking at the space, and
disinclined to skirt it, because they thought the bears' lair lay
somewhere on the left in the direction they must needs take, they saw
suddenly first one bear and then two coming up the grass slope to the
right and going across the amphitheatre towards the caves. Andoo was
first; he dropped a little on his fore-foot and his mien was despondent,
and the she-bear came shuffling behind.
Eudena and Ugh-lomi stepped back from the cliff until they could just
see the bears over the verge. Then Ugh-lomi stopped. Eudena pulled his
arm, but he turned with a forbidding gesture, and her hand dropped.
Ugh-lomi stood watching the bears, with his axe in his hand, until they
had vanished into the cave. He growled softly, and shook the axe at the
she-bear's receding quarters. Then to Eudena's terror, instead of
creeping off with her, he lay flat down and crawled forward into such a
position that he could just see the cave. It was bears--and he did it
as calmly as if it had been rabbits he was watching!
He lay still, like a barked log, sun-dappled, in the shadow of the
trees. He was thinking. And Eudena had learnt, even when a little girl,
that when Ugh-lomi became still like that, jaw-bone on fist, novel
things presently began to happen.
It was an hour before the thinking was over; it was noon when the two
little savages had found their way to the cliff brow that overhung the
bears' cave. And all the long afternoon they fought desperately with a
great boulder of chalk; trundling it, with nothing but their unaided
sturdy muscles, from the gully where it had hung like a loose tooth,
towards the cliff top. It was full two yards about, it stood as high as
Eudena's waist, it was obtuse-angled and toothed with flints. And when
the sun set it was poised, three inches from the edge, above the cave of
the great cave bear.
In the cave conversation languished during that afternoon. The she-bear
snoozed sulkily in her corner--for she was fond of pig and monkey--and
Andoo was busy licking the side of his paw and smearing his face to cool
the smart and inflammation of his wounds. Afterwards he went and sat
just within the mouth of the cave, blinking out at the afternoon sun
with his uninjured eye, and thinking.
"I never was so startled in my life," he said at last. "They are the
most extraordinary beasts. Attacking _me_!"
"I don't like them," said the she-bear, out of the darkness behind.
"A feebler sort of beast I _never_ saw. I can't think what the world is
coming to. Scraggy, weedy legs.... Wonder how they keep warm in winter?"
"Very likely they don't," said the she-bear.
"I suppose it's a sort of monkey gone wrong."
"It's a change," said the she-bear.
A pause.
"The advantage he had was merely accidental," said Andoo. "These things
_will_ happen at times."
"_I_ can't understand why you let go," said the she-bear.
That matter had been discussed before, and settled. So Andoo, being a
bear of experience, remained silent for a space. Then he resumed upon a
different aspect of the matter. "He has a sort of claw--a long claw that
he seemed to have first on one paw and then on the other. Just one claw.
They're very odd things. The bright thing, too, they seemed to
have--like that glare that comes in the sky in daytime--only it jumps
about--it's really worth seeing. It's a thing with a root, too--like
grass when it is windy."
"Does it bite?" asked the she-bear. "If it bites it can't be a plant."
"No----I don't know," said Andoo. "But it's curious, anyhow."
"I wonder if they _are_ good eating?" said the she-bear.
"They look it," said Andoo, with appetite--for the cave bear, like the
polar bear, was an incurable carnivore--no roots or honey for _him_.
The two bears fell into a meditation for a space. Then Andoo resumed his
simple attentions to his eye. The sunlight up the green slope before the
cave mouth grew warmer in tone and warmer, until it was a ruddy amber.
"Curious sort of thing--day," said the cave bear. "Lot too much of it, I
think. Quite unsuitable for hunting. Dazzles me always. I can't smell
nearly so well by day."
The she-bear did not answer, but there came a measured crunching sound
out of the darkness. She had turned up a bone. Andoo yawned. "Well," he
said. He strolled to the cave mouth and stood with his head projecting,
surveying the amphitheatre. He found he had to turn his head completely
round to see objects on his right-hand side. No doubt that eye would be
all right to-morrow.
He yawned again. There was a tap overhead, and a big mass of chalk flew
out from the cliff face, dropped a yard in front of his nose, and
starred into a dozen unequal fragments. It startled him extremely.
When he had recovered a little from his shock, he went and sniffed
curiously at the representative pieces of the fallen projectile. They
had a distinctive flavour, oddly reminiscent of the two drab animals of
the ledge. He sat up and pawed the larger lump, and walked round it
several times, trying to find a man about it somewhere....
When night had come he went off down the river gorge to see if he could
cut off either of the ledge's occupants. The ledge was empty, there were
no signs of the red thing, but as he was rather hungry he did not loiter
long that night, but pushed on to pick up a red deer fawn. He forgot
about the drab animals. He found a fawn, but the doe was close by and
made an ugly fight for her young. Andoo had to leave the fawn, but as
her blood was up she stuck to the attack, and at last he got in a blow
of his paw on her nose, and so got hold of her. More meat but less
delicacy, and the she-bear, following, had her share. The next
afternoon, curiously enough, the very fellow of the first white rock
fell, and smashed precisely according to precedent.
The aim of the third, that fell the night after, however, was better. It
hit Andoo's unspeculative skull with a crack that echoed up the cliff,
and the white fragments went dancing to all the points of the compass.
The she-bear coming after him and sniffing curiously at him, found him
lying in an odd sort of attitude, with his head wet and all out of
shape. She was a young she-bear, and inexperienced, and having sniffed
about him for some time and licked him a little, and so forth, she
decided to leave him until the odd mood had passed, and went on her
hunting alone.
She looked up the fawn of the red doe they had killed two nights ago,
and found it. But it was lonely hunting without Andoo, and she returned
caveward before dawn. The sky was grey and overcast, the trees up the
gorge were black and unfamiliar, and into her ursine mind came a dim
sense of strange and dreary happenings. She lifted up her voice and
called Andoo by name. The sides of the gorge re-echoed her.
As she approached the caves she saw in the half light, and heard a
couple of jackals scuttle off, and immediately after a hyaena howled and
a dozen clumsy bulks went lumbering up the slope, and stopped and yelled
derision. "Lord of the rocks and caves--ya-ha!" came down the wind. The
dismal feeling in the she-bear's mind became suddenly acute. She
shuffled across the amphitheatre.
"Ya-ha!" said the hyaenas, retreating. "Ya-ha!"
The cave bear was not lying quite in the same attitude, because the
hyaenas had been busy, and in one place his ribs showed white. Dotted
over the turf about him lay the smashed fragments of the three great
lumps of chalk. And the air was full of the scent of death.
The she-bear stopped dead. Even now, that the great and wonderful Andoo
was killed was beyond her believing. Then she heard far overhead a
sound, a queer sound, a little like the shout of a hyaena but fuller and
lower in pitch. She looked up, her little dawn-blinded eyes seeing
little, her nostrils quivering. And there, on the cliff edge, far above
her against the bright pink of dawn, were two little shaggy round dark
things, the heads of Eudena and Ugh-lomi, as they shouted derision at
her. But though she could not see them very distinctly she could hear,
and dimly she began to apprehend. A novel feeling as of imminent strange
evils came into her heart.
She began to examine the smashed fragments of chalk that lay about
Andoo. For a space she stood still, looking about her and making a low
continuous sound that was almost a moan. Then she went back
incredulously to Andoo to make one last effort to rouse him.