My vision of the scene came abruptly, as I emerged from the forest. I
found myself on the edge of a large clear space. On one side of this
space rose up high bluffs. On the other side was the river. The earth
bank ran steeply down to the water, but here and there, in several
places, where at some time slides of earth had occurred, there were
run-ways. These were the drinking-places of the Folk that lived in the
caves.
And this was the main abiding-place of the Folk that I had chanced
upon. This was, I may say, by stretching the word, the village. My
mother and the Chatterer and I, and a few other simple bodies, were
what might be termed suburban residents. We were part of the horde,
though we lived a distance away from it. It was only a short distance,
though it had taken me, what of my wandering, all of a week to arrive.
Had I come directly, I could have covered the trip in an hour.
But to return. From the edge of the forest I saw the caves in the
bluff, the open space, and the run-ways to the drinking-places. And in
the open space I saw many of the Folk. I had been straying, alone and a
child, for a week. During that time I had seen not one of my kind. I
had lived in terror and desolation. And now, at the sight of my kind, I
was overcome with gladness, and I ran wildly toward them.
Then it was that a strange thing happened. Some one of the Folk saw me
and uttered a warning cry. On the instant, crying out with fear and
panic, the Folk fled away. Leaping and scrambling over the rocks, they
plunged into the mouths of the caves and disappeared...all but one, a
little baby, that had been dropped in the excitement close to the base
of the bluff. He was wailing dolefully. His mother dashed out; he
sprang to meet her and held on tightly as she scrambled back into the
cave.
I was all alone. The populous open space had of a sudden become
deserted. I sat down forlornly and whimpered. I could not understand.
Why had the Folk run away from me? In later time, when I came to know
their ways, I was to learn. When they saw me dashing out of the forest
at top speed they concluded that I was being pursued by some hunting
animal. By my unceremonious approach I had stampeded them.
As I sat and watched the cave-mouths I became aware that the Folk were
watching me. Soon they were thrusting their heads out. A little later
they were calling back and forth to one another. In the hurry and
confusion it had happened that all had not gained their own caves. Some
of the young ones had sought refuge in other caves. The mothers did not
call for them by name, because that was an invention we had not yet
made. All were nameless. The mothers uttered querulous, anxious cries,
which were recognized by the young ones. Thus, had my mother been there
calling to me, I should have recognized her voice amongst the voices of
a thousand mothers, and in the same way would she have recognized mine
amongst a thousand.
This calling back and forth continued for some time, but they were too
cautious to come out of their caves and descend to the ground. Finally
one did come. He was destined to play a large part in my life, and for
that matter he already played a large part in the lives of all the
members of the horde. He it was whom I shall call Red-Eye in the pages
of this history—so called because of his inflamed eyes, the lids being
always red, and, by the peculiar effect they produced, seeming to
advertise the terrible savagery of him. The color of his soul was red.
He was a monster in all ways. Physically he was a giant. He must have
weighed one hundred and seventy pounds. He was the largest one of our
kind I ever saw. Nor did I ever see one of the Fire People so large as
he, nor one of the Tree People. Sometimes, when in the newspapers I
happen upon descriptions of our modern bruisers and prizefighters, I
wonder what chance the best of them would have had against him.
I am afraid not much of a chance. With one grip of his iron fingers and
a pull, he could have plucked a muscle, say a biceps, by the roots,
clear out of their bodies. A back-handed, loose blow of his fist could
have smashed their skulls like egg-shells. With a sweep of his wicked
feet (or hind-hands) he could have disembowelled them. A twist could
have broken their necks, and I know that with a single crunch of his
jaws he could have pierced, at the same moment, the great vein of the
throat in front and the spinal marrow at the back.
He could spring twenty feet horizontally from a sitting position. He
was abominably hairy. It was a matter of pride with us to be not very
hairy. But he was covered with hair all over, on the inside of the arms
as well as the outside, and even the ears themselves. The only places
on him where the hair did not grow were the soles of his hands and feet
and beneath his eyes. He was frightfully ugly, his ferocious grinning
mouth and huge down-hanging under-lip being but in harmony with his
terrible eyes.
This was Red-Eye. And right gingerly he crept out of his cave and
descended to the ground. Ignoring me, he proceeded to reconnoitre. He
bent forward from the hips as he walked; and so far forward did he
bend, and so long were his arms, that with every step he touched the
knuckles of his hands to the ground on either side of him. He was
awkward in the semi-erect position of walking that he assumed, and he
really touched his knuckles to the ground in order to balance himself.
But oh, I tell you he could run on all-fours! Now this was something at
which we were particularly awkward. Furthermore, it was a rare
individual among us who balanced himself with his knuckles when
walking. Such an individual was an atavism, and Red-Eye was an even
greater atavism.
That is what he was—an atavism. We were in the process of changing our
tree-life to life on the ground. For many generations we had been going
through this change, and our bodies and carriage had likewise changed.
But Red-Eye had reverted to the more primitive tree-dwelling type.
Perforce, because he was born in our horde he stayed with us; but in
actuality he was an atavism and his place was elsewhere.
Very circumspect and very alert, he moved here and there about the open
space, peering through the vistas among the trees and trying to catch a
glimpse of the hunting animal that all suspected had pursued me. And
while he did this, taking no notice of me, the Folk crowded at the
cave-mouths and watched.
At last he evidently decided that there was no danger lurking about. He
was returning from the head of the run-way, from where he had taken a
peep down at the drinking-place. His course brought him near, but still
he did not notice me. He proceeded casually on his way until abreast of
me, and then, without warning and with incredible swiftness, he smote
me a buffet on the head. I was knocked backward fully a dozen feet
before I fetched up against the ground, and I remember, half-stunned,
even as the blow was struck, hearing the wild uproar of clucking and
shrieking laughter that arose from the caves. It was a great joke—at
least in that day; and right heartily the Folk appreciated it.
Thus was I received into the horde. Red-Eye paid no further attention
to me, and I was at liberty to whimper and sob to my heart’s content.
Several of the women gathered curiously about me, and I recognized
them. I had encountered them the preceding year when my mother had
taken me to the hazelnut canyons.
But they quickly left me alone, being replaced by a dozen curious and
teasing youngsters. They formed a circle around me, pointing their
fingers, making faces, and poking and pinching me. I was frightened,
and for a time I endured them, then anger got the best of me and I
sprang tooth and nail upon the most audacious one of them—none other
than Lop-Ear himself. I have so named him because he could prick up
only one of his ears. The other ear always hung limp and without
movement. Some accident had injured the muscles and deprived him of the
use of it.
He closed with me, and we went at it for all the world like a couple of
small boys fighting. We scratched and bit, pulled hair, clinched, and
threw each other down. I remember I succeeded in getting on him what in
my college days I learned was called a half-Nelson. This hold gave me
the decided advantage. But I did not enjoy it long. He twisted up one
leg, and with the foot (or hind-hand) made so savage an onslaught upon
my abdomen as to threaten to disembowel me. I had to release him in
order to save myself, and then we went at it again.
Lop-Ear was a year older than I, but I was several times angrier than
he, and in the end he took to his heels. I chased him across the open
and down a run-way to the river. But he was better acquainted with the
locality and ran along the edge of the water and up another run-way. He
cut diagonally across the open space and dashed into a wide-mouthed
cave.
Before I knew it, I had plunged after him into the darkness. The next
moment I was badly frightened. I had never been in a cave before. I
began to whimper and cry out. Lop-Ear chattered mockingly at me, and,
springing upon me unseen, tumbled me over. He did not risk a second
encounter, however, and took himself off. I was between him and the
entrance, and he did not pass me; yet he seemed to have gone away. I
listened, but could get no clew as to where he was. This puzzled me,
and when I regained the outside I sat down to watch.
He never came out of the entrance, of that I was certain; yet at the
end of several minutes he chuckled at my elbow. Again I ran after him,
and again he ran into the cave; but this time I stopped at the mouth. I
dropped back a short distance and watched. He did not come out, yet, as
before, he chuckled at my elbow and was chased by me a third time into
the cave.
This performance was repeated several times. Then I followed him into
the cave, where I searched vainly for him. I was curious. I could not
understand how he eluded me. Always he went into the cave, never did he
come out of it, yet always did he arrive there at my elbow and mock me.
Thus did our fight transform itself into a game of hide and seek.
All afternoon, with occasional intervals, we kept it up, and a playful,
friendly spirit arose between us. In the end, he did not run away from
me, and we sat together with our arms around each other. A little later
he disclosed the mystery of the wide-mouthed cave. Holding me by the
hand he led me inside. It connected by a narrow crevice with another
cave, and it was through this that we regained the open air.
We were now good friends. When the other young ones gathered around to
tease, he joined with me in attacking them; and so viciously did we
behave that before long I was let alone. Lop-Ear made me acquainted
with the village. There was little that he could tell me of conditions
and customs—he had not the necessary vocabulary; but by observing his
actions I learned much, and also he showed me places and things.
He took me up the open space, between the caves and the river, and into
the forest beyond, where, in a grassy place among the trees, we made a
meal of stringy-rooted carrots. After that we had a good drink at the
river and started up the run-way to the caves.
It was in the run-way that we came upon Red-Eye again. The first I
knew, Lop-Ear had shrunk away to one side and was crouching low against
the bank. Naturally and involuntarily, I imitated him. Then it was that
I looked to see the cause of his fear. It was Red-Eye, swaggering down
the centre of the run-way and scowling fiercely with his inflamed eyes.
I noticed that all the youngsters shrank away from him as we had done,
while the grown-ups regarded him with wary eyes when he drew near, and
stepped aside to give him the centre of the path.
As twilight came on, the open space was deserted. The Folk were seeking
the safety of the caves. Lop-Ear led the way to bed. High up the bluff
we climbed, higher than all the other caves, to a tiny crevice that
could not be seen from the ground. Into this Lop-Ear squeezed. I
followed with difficulty, so narrow was the entrance, and found myself
in a small rock-chamber. It was very low—not more than a couple of feet
in height, and possibly three feet by four in width and length. Here,
cuddled together in each other’s arms, we slept out the night.