 26 One day at noon a man burst panting through the wide-open entrance to the fire valley. His coat of skin was rent and hung awry, and as all could see when he staggered down the pathway, the flesh was torn from one cheek and arm, and down his leg on one side was a stain of dried blood. He was exhausted from his hurt and his run, and his talk was at first almost unmeaning. He was met by some of the older and wiser among those who saw him coming, and to their questions answered only by demanding Ab, who came at once. The hard-breathing and wounded man could only utter the words, Big Tiger, when he pitched forward and became unconscious, but his words had been enough. Well understood was it by all who listened what a raid of the cave tiger meant, and there was a running to the gateway, and soon was raised the wall of ready stone, up built so high that even the leaping monster could not hope to reach its summit. Later the story of the wounded, but now conscious and refreshed runner, was told with more of detail and coherence. The messenger brought out what he had to tell gaspingly. He had lost much blood and was faint, but he told how there had taken place, something awful in the village of the Shellmen. It was but little after dust the night before when the Shellmen were gathered together in a merry-making after good fishing and lucky gathering of what there was to eat along the shores of the shellfish and the egg-laying turtles and the capture of a huge river-horse. It had been, up to midnight, one of the greatest and most joyous meetings the Shell people had joined in for many years. They were close, gathered and prosperous and content, and though there was daily turmoil and risk of death upon the water, and sometimes as great risk upon the land, yet the village fringing the waters had grown, and the midden, the kitchen-midden, or future ages had raced itself steadily and now stretched far up and down the creek which was the river branch and far backward from the creek toward the forest which ended with the uplands. They had learned to dread the forest little, the water-people, but from the forest now came what made for each in all the village a dread and horror. The cave-tiger had been among them. The Shell people had gathered together upon the sword fronting their line of shallow caves, and one of them, the storyteller and singer, was chanting aloud of the river-horse and the great spoil which was theirs. When there was a hungry roar and the yell or shriek of all, men or women, not too stricken by fear, to be unable to utter sound. And then the leap into their midst of the cave-tiger. Perhaps the storyteller's chant had called the monster's attention to him. Perhaps his attitude attracted it. Never may have been the influence the tiger sees the singer and leap lightly into the open beyond the caves, and as lightly, with long bounds, into the blackness of the forest beyond. There was a moment of awe and horror, and the spirit of the brave Shell men asserted itself. There was grasping of weapons and an outpouring in pursuit of the devourer. Easy to follow was the trail, for a monster beast carrying a man cannot drop lightly in his leaps. There was a brief mile or two traversed, though hours were consumed in the search, and then, as mourn was breaking, the seeker's came upon what was left of the singer. It was not much, and it lay across the forest path, for the cave-tiger did not deign to hide his prey. There came a half-moaning growl from the forest. The growl meant lurking death, then the seeker's fled. There was consultation and a resolve to ask for help. After the runner, the man stricken down by casual stroke in the tiger's rush, was bravest among his tribe, had come to the fire valley. To the panting stranger Ab had not much to say. He saw to it that the man was refreshed and cared for, and that the deep scars along his side were dressed after the cave-man's fashion. But through the night which followed, the great cave-leader pondered deeply. Why should men thus live and dread the cave-tiger? Surely men were wiser than any beast. This one monster must, anyhow, be slain. But little it mattered to all surrounding nature that the strong man in the fire valley had resolved upon the death of the cave-tiger. The tiger was yet alive. There was a difference in the pulse of all the woodland. There was a hush throughout the forest. The word somehow went to every nerve of all the world of beasts. Saber-tooth is here. Even the huge cave-bear shuffled aside as there came to him the scent of the invader. The oryx and the urus, the towering elk, the reindeer, and the lesser horned and antlered things fled wildly as a tainted air brought to them the tale of impending murder. Only the huge rhinoceros and mammoths stood their ground, and even these were terror-stricken with regard for their guarded young whenever the tiger neared them. The rhinoceros stood then, fierce-fronted and dangerous, its offspring hovering by its flanks, and the mammoths gathered in a ring encircling in their calves and presenting an outward range of tusks to meet the hovering devourer. The dread was all about. The forest became seemingly nearly lifeless. There was less barking and yelping, less reckless payfulness of wild creatures, less rustling of the leaves and pattering along the forest paths. There was fear and quiet, for saber-tooth had come. The runner, refreshed and strengthened by food and sleep, appeared before Ab in the morning, and told his story more in detail, and got in return the short answer. We will go with you and help you and your people. Tigers must be killed. Really before had man gone out voluntarily to hunt the great cave tiger, he had, sometimes in awful strait, defended himself against the monster as best he could. But to seek the encounter where the odds were so great against him was an ugly task. Now the man's lair was to be the pursued instead of the pursuer. It required courage. The vengeful wounded man looked upon Ab with a grim admiring regard. You fear not, he said. There was bustling in the valley, and sooner stalwart dozen men were armed with bow and spear, and the journey was taken up toward the shell men's home. The village was reached at midday, and as the little troop emerged from the forest, the death wail fell upon their ears. The tiger has come again, exclaimed the runner. It was true, the tiger had come again. Once more with his stunning roar he had swept through the village and had taken another victim, a woman, the wife of one of the head men. Too benumb by fear this time to act at once, the shell men had not pursued the great brute into the darkness. They had but ventured out in the morning and followed the trail, and found that the tiger had carried the woman in very nearly the same direction as he had borne the man, and that what remained from his gorging of the night lay where his earliest feast had been. It was the first tragedy almost repeated. The little group of fire valley folk entered the village and were received with shouts from the men, while from the throats of the women still rose the death wail. There were more people about the huts than Ab had ever seen there, and he recognized at once among the group many of the cavemen from the east. Among people of his own kind. As the wounded runner had gone to the fire valley, so another had been sent to the east to call upon another group for aid, and the eastern cave people, under the leadership of a huge swarly man called Boreface, had come to learn what the strait was and to decide upon what degree of help they could afford to give. Between these eastern and the western cavemen there was a certain coldness. There was no open enmity, though at some time in the past there had been family battles and memories of feuds were still existent. But Ab and Boreface met genuinely, and there was not a trace of difference now. Boreface joined readily in the council, which was held and decided that he would aid in the desperate hunt. And certainly his aid was not to be despised when his followers were looked upon. They were a stalwart lot. The way was taken by the gathered fighting men to ward where across the forest path lay part of a woman. As the place was neared the band gathered close together and there were out-pointing spears just as the mammoth's tusks out-pointed when the bees guarded their young from the thing now hunted. But there came no attack and no sound from the forest. The tiger must be sleeping. Beneath a huge tree bordering the pathway lay what remained of the woman's body, fifty feet above and almost directly over this dreadful remnant of humanity, shot out a branch as thick as a man's body. There was consultation among the hunters, and in this Ab took the lead, while Boreface and the shellmen who had come to help assented readily. No need existed for the risk of an open fight with this great beast. Craft must be used, and Ab gave forth his swift commands. The Fire Valley leader had seen to it that his company had brought what he needed in his effort to kill the tiger. There were two great tan-tough urus hides. There were lengths of rhinoceros hide cut thickly, which would endure a strain of more than the weight of ten brawny men. There was one spear, with a shaft of ash wood at least 15 feet in length, and as thick as a man's wrist. Its head was a blade of hard as flint, but the spear was too heavy for a man's hurling. It had been made for another use. There was little hesitation in what was done, for Ab knew well the quality of the work he had in hand. He unfolded his plan briefly, and then he himself climbed to the treetop and out upon the limb, carrying with him the knotted strip of rhinoceros hide. In the pouch of a skin garment were pebbles. He reached a place on the big limb, overhanging the path and dropped a pebble. It struck the earth a yard or two away from what remained of the woman's body, and he shouted to those below to drag the mangled body to the spot where the pebble had hit the earth. They were about to do so when from the forest on one side of the path came a roar, so appalling in every way that there was no thought of anything amongst most of the workers save of sudden flight. The tiger was in the wood, and very near, and the scent had reached him. There was a flight which left upon the ground beneath the tree branches, only old hilltop and the rough bore face and some dozen sturdy followers. These about equally divided between the east and the west men of the hills. There was swift and sharp work then. The tiger might come at any moment, and that meant death to one at least. But those who remained were brave men, and they had come far to encompass this tiger's ending. They dragged what remained of the tiger's prey to where the pebble had hit the earth. Ab, clinging and raging aloft, are far out upon the limb, shouted to hilltop to bring him the spear and the urus skins. And soon the sturdy old man was beside him. Then about two deep notches in the huge shaft, thongs were soon tied strongly, and just below its middle were attached the bag shaped urus skins. Near its end the rhinoceros thong was knotted, and then it was left hanging from the limb supported by this strong rope. While three-fourths of the way down its length dangled on each side the two empty bags of hide. Short orders were given and directed by bore face. One man after another climbed the tree, each with a weight of stones carried in his pouch, and each delivering his load to old hilltop, who, lying well out upon the limb, passed the stones to Ab, who placed them in the skin pouches on either side of the suspended and threatening spear. The big skin pouches on either side were filling rapidly when there came from the forest another roar, nearer and more appalling than before, and some of the workers below fled panic-stricken. Ab shouted and frothed and foamed as the men ran. Old hilltop slid down the tree, ax in hand, followed by the dark bore face, and one or two of the men below were captured and made to work again. Soon all the work which Ab had in mind was done. Above the path just over what remained of the woman hung the great spear, weighted with half a thousand pounds of stone, and sure to reach its mark should the tiger seek its prey again. The branch was broad and the line of ronoceros skin taught, and Ab's flint knife was keen of edge. Only courage and calmness were needed in the dread presence of the monster of the time. Neither the swarthy bore face nor the gaunt hilltop wanted to leave him, but Ab forced them away. Not long to wait had the caveman, but the men who had been with him were already distant. The shadows were growing long now, but the light was still from the sunshine of the early afternoon. The man lying on the limb, knife in hand, could hear no sound, save the soft swish of leaves against each other as the breeze of later day pushed its way through the forest, or the alarmed cries of knowing birds who saw on the ground beneath them a huge thing slip along, with scarce a sound from the impact of his fearfully clawed but padded feet, as he sought the meal he had prepared for himself. The great beast was approaching. The great man aloft was waiting. Into the open along the path came the tiger, and Ab, gripping the limb more firmly, looked down upon the thing so closely, and in daylight for the first time in his life. Ab was certainly brave, and he was calm and wise and thinking beyond his time. But when he saw plainly this beast which had slipped so easily and silently from the forest, safe though he was upon his perch, he was more than startled. The thing was so huge, and with an aspect so terrible to look upon. The great cat's head moved slowly from side to side. The baleful eyes blazed up and down the pathway, and the tawny muscle was lifted to catch what burden there might be on the air. The beast seemed satisfied, emerging fairly into the sunlight, immense of size, but with the graceful lengthness of the tiger soft today. Saber too somewhat resembled them, though beside him the largest inmate of the Indian jungle would appear but puny. The creature Ab looked upon that day so long ago was beautiful in his way. He was beautiful as is the peacock or the banded rattlesnake. There were colour contrasts and fine blendings. The stripes upon him were wonderfully rich, and as he came creeping toward the body he was as splendid as he was dreadful. With every nerve strained but with his first impulse of something like terror gone Ab watched the devourer beneath him while his sharp flint knife hard gripped more lightly against the taut rhinoceros hide-rope. The tiger began his ghastly meal but was not quite beneath the suspended spear. Then came some distance down in the forest and he raised his head and shifted his position. He was fairly under the spear now. The knife pressed firmly against the raw hide was drawn back and forth noiselessly but with effectiveness. Suddenly the last tissue parted and the enormously weighted spear fell like a lightning stroke. The broad flint head struck the tiger fairly between the shoulders and impelled by such a weight passed through his huge body as if it had met no obstacle. Upon the strong shaft of ash the monster was impaled. There echoed and re-echoed through the forest a roar so fearful that even the hunters whom Ab had sent far away from the scene of the tragedy clambered to the trees for refuge. The struggles of the pierce brood were tremendous beyond description but no strength could avail it now. It had received a death wound and soon the great tiger lay still as harmless as the squirrel, frightened and hidden in his nest. In wild triumph Ab slid to the ground and then the long cry to summon his party went echoing through the wood. When the others found him he had withdrawn the spear and was already engaged flint knife in hand and stripping from the huge body the glorious robert war. There was excitement and rejoicing. The terror had been slain. The shell people were frantic in their exultation. Meanwhile Ab had called upon his own people to assist him and the wonderful skin of the tiger was soon stretched out upon the ground. A glorious procession for a caveman. I will have half of it, declared boar face and he and Ab faced each other menacingly. It shall not be cut was the fierce retort. It is mine, I killed the tiger. Strong hands gripped stone axes and there was chance of deadly fray then and there but the shell people interfered and the shell people excelled in number and were a potent influence for peace. Ab carried away the splendor trophy but as boar face and his men departed there were black faces and threatening words. End of Chapter 26 Chapter 27 of the story of Ab. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Magdalena Cook The Story of Ab by Stanley Waterloo Chapter 27 Little Mock Among all the children of Ab and remarkable it was for the age the best loved was Little Mock, the eldest son. When the child's strong and joyous was scarcely two years old he fell from a ledge off the cliff where he had climbed to play and both his legs were broken. Strange to say he survived the accident in that time when the law of the survival of the fitters was almost invariable in its sternest and most pure and physical demonstration. The mother love of Lightfoot warded off the last pitiless blow of nature, although the child a hopeless cripple never after walked. The name Little Mock was naturally given him and before long the child had won the heart as well as the name of the limping old maker of access spearheads and arrows. The closer ties of family life as we know them now existed but in their outlines to the caveman. The man and woman were faithful to each other with the fidelity of the higher animals and their children were cared for with rough tenderness in their infancy. The time of absolute dependence was made very short, though and children very early were required to find some of their own food and taught by necessity to protect themselves. But Little Mock, unable to take up for himself the burden of an independent existence, was not slain nor left to die of neglect as might have been another child thus crippled in the time in which he lived. He, once spared, grew into the wild hearts of those closest to him and became the guarded and cherished one of the rude home of Abern Lightfoot, and to him was thus given the continuous love and care which the strong limb boys and girls of the family lost and never missed. It was a strange thing for the time. The child had qualities other than the negative ones of helplessness and weakness with which to bind to him the hearts of those around him. But the primary fact of his entire dependence upon them was what made him the centre of their little circle of untaught, untamed cave people who lived in the fire valley. He may have been the first child ever so cherished from such impulse. From his mother the child inherited a joyous disposition which nothing could subdue, often on the return home from some little expedition on which it had been practicable to take him, sitting on Lightfoot's shoulders or on the still stronger arm of old one ear, his silent, somewhat brooding grandfather. The little brown boy made the woods ring with shrill bird calls or the mimicry of animals, and ever his laughter filled the spaces in between these sounds. Other children flocked around the merry youngster seeking to emulate his play or voice, and the oldster smiled as they saw and heard the joyous confusion about their tiny reveler. The excursions to the river were little mocks' chief delight from his early childhood. He entered into the preparations for them with a zest and keen enjoyment borne off the presence of an adventurous spirit in a main body. And when the fishing party left the fire camp, it was incomplete if little mock was not carried lightly at the van, the life and joy off the occasion. No one ever forgot the day when little mock, then about six years old, caught his first fish. His joy and pride infected all as he exhibited his price and boasted of what he would catch in the river next. And when, on the return, old mock saluted him as the great fisherman, the elves elation became too great for any expression. His little chest heaved, his eyes flashed, and then he wriggled from lightfoot's arms into the lap of old mock, snuggled down into the old man's furs, and hid his face there, and the two understood each other. It was soon after this great event of the first fish catching that Red Spot, Aps mother, died. She had never quite adapted herself to the new life in the Fire Valley, and after a time she began to grow old very fast. At last, a fever attacked her and the end of her patient, Death, one ear, was much in old Mox Cave. The two had so long been friends. There with them the crippled boy was often to be found. He was not always gay and joyous. Sometimes he lay for days on his bed of leaves at home in weakness and pain, silent and unlike himself. Then, when lightfoot's care had given him back a little strength, he would beg to be taken to old Mox Cave. There he could sleep, he said, away from the noise and the lights of the outside world. And finally he claimed, and was allowed to nest of his own in the warmest and darkest nook of old Mox Den, where he slept every night and sometimes a good part of the day, when one of his times of pain and weakness was upon him. Here, during many long hour of work, experiment and argument, the wide eyes and quick ears of little Mox saw and heard, while ab, Mox and one ear bent over their work at arrowhead or spare point and talked of what might be done to improve the weapons upon which they were so much dependent. Here, when no one else remained in the weary darkness of night and the half-light of stormy days, old Mox beguiled the time with stories and sometimes in a hoarse voice, even attempted to chant to his little hear as snatchers off the wild singing tales of the shell-people, for the shell-people had a sort of story song. Once, when Lightfoot sat by old Mox's fire, she told them off the time when she and Ab found themselves outside their cave, unarmed, and bare to be eaten through before they could get into their door. And little Mox surprised his mother and old Mox by an outburst of laughter at the tail. He had a glimmering of humour and saw the droll side of the adventure, a view which had not occurred to Lightfoot nor to Ab. The little lad of the world, yet not in it, saw vaguely the surprises, lights and shades and contrasts off existence and sometimes they made him laugh. The laugh of the caveman was not a common event and when it came was likely to be sober and sardonic. At least it was so when not simply an evidence of rude health and high animal spirits. Himmer is one of the latest as it is one of the most precious grains shaken out of Time's hourglass. But little Mox somehow caught a tiny bit of the rainbow gift, long before its time in the world. And soon, with him, it was to disappear for centuries to come. One day when little Mox was brought back from an expedition to the river, he told Old Mox how he had sat long on the bank, too tired to fish and had just rested and feasted his eyes on the wood, the stream, the small darting creatures in it, the birds and the animals which came to drink. Describing a herd of reindeer which had passed near him, little Mox took up a piece of Old Mox red chalk stone and on the wall of the cave drew a picture of the animal. The veteran stared in surprise. The picture was wonderfully lifelike in grasp and detail. The child owned that great gift, the memory of sight, and his hand was cunning. Encouraged by his success, the boy drew on, delighting Old Mox with his singular fidelity and skill. Then came hours and days of sketching and etching in the Old Man's Cave. The master was delighted. He brought out from their hiding places his choicest pieces of mammoth tusk or teeth of the river horse for little Mox etchings and carvings. And as time passed, the young artist excelled the Old One and became the pride and boast of his friend and teacher. Sometimes the little lad would work far into the night for he could not pause when he had begun a thing until it was complete. But then he would sleep in his warm nest until noon the next day, crawling out to cook a bit of meat for himself at the nearest fire or sharing Old Mox meal, as was more convenient. While everything else in the fire valley was growing, developing and flourishing, little Mox frail body had ever grown but slowly. And about the beginning of his twelfth year, there appeared a change in him. He became permanently weak and grew more and more helpless day by day. His cherished excursions to the river, even his little journeys on Old One ear strong arm to the cliff top. From whence he could see the whole world at once had all to be abandoned. When the winter snows began to whirl in the air, little Mox was lying quietly on his bed, his great eyes looking wistfully up at life foot, who in vain taxed her limited skill and resources to tempt him to eat and become more sturdy. She hovered over him like a distressed mother bird over its youngling fallen from the nest. But with all her efforts, she could not bring back even his usual slight measure of health and strength to the poor little Mox. Ab came sometimes and looked sadly at the two and then walked moodily away, a great weight on his breast. Old Mox was always at work and yet always ready to give little Mox water or turn his weary little frame on its rude bed, or spread the furce over the wasted body and always light foot waited and hoped and feared. And at last little Mox died and was buried under the stones and the snow fell over the lonely can under the fir trees outside the fire valley where his grave was made. Lightfoot was silent and sad and could not smile nor laugh anymore. She longed for little Mox and did not eat or sleep. One night Ab, trying to comfort her, said, You will see him again. What do you mean? cried Lightfoot. And Ab only answered, You will see him. He will come at night. Go to sleep and you will see him. But Lightfoot could not sleep yet and for many a night her eyes closed only when extreme fatigue compelled sleep toward the morning. And at last, after many days and nights Lightfoot, when asleep, saw little Mox. Just as in life she saw him with all his familiar looks and motions. But he did not stay long. And again and again she saw him and had comforted her somewhat because he smiled. There had come to her such a heartache about him lying out there under the snow and stones with no one to care for him that the smile warmed her heavy heart and she told Ab that she had seen little Mox only whispering it to him for it was not well she knew to talk about such things. And she whispered to Ab too her anguish that little Mox only came at night and never when it was day. But she did not complain. She only said, I want to see him in the daytime. And Ab could think of nothing to say. But that made him think more and more. He felt drawn closer to Lightfoot, his wife, no longer a young girl, but the mother of little Mox who was dead and of all his children. In his mind arose vaguely obscure yet persistent the idea that brute strength and vigor, keen senses and reckless bravery were not, after all, the sole qualities that make an influenced man. Old Mox, crippled and disabled for the hunt and defence, was nevertheless a power not to be despised. And little Mox, the helpless child, had been still strong enough to win and keep the love of all the stalwart and rough-cave people. Ab was sorry for Lightfoot. When in the spring the fallen mother held in her arms a baby girl, a little brightness came into her eyes again and Ab, seeing this, was glad. But neither Ab nor Lightfoot ever forgot the eldest and dearest little Mox. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE BATTLE OF THE BARRIERS While Ab had been occupied by home affairs, trouble for him and his people had been brewing. By no means unknown to each other before the tiger hunt were Ab and Boreface. They had hunted together and once Boreface, with half a dozen companions, had visited the Fire Valley and had noted its many attractions and advantages. Now Boreface had gone away angry and muttering and he was not a man to be thought of lightly. His rage over the memory of Ab's trophy did not decrease with the return to his own region. Why should this caveman of the West have sole possession of that valley, which was warm and green throughout the winter and where the wild bees could not enter? Why had he, this Ab, been allowed to go away with all the tiger skin? Brewding enlarged into resolve and Boreface gathered together his relations and adherence. Let us go and take the Fire Valley of Ab, he said to them. And gradually, though objections were made to the undertaking of an enterprise so fraught with danger, the listeners were persuaded. There are other fires far down the river, said one old man. Let us go there, if it is fire we most need. And so we will not disturb nor anger Ab, who has lived in his valley for many years. Why battle with Ab and all his people? But Boreface laughed aloud. There are many other earth fires, he said. I know them well. But there is no other fire which chances to make a flaming fence about a valley close to the great rocks and which has water within the space it surrounds and which makes a wall against all the wild beasts. We will fight and win the Valley of Ab. And so they were led into the venture. They sought to the aid of the shell people in this raid, but were not successful. The shell people were not unfriendly to those of the Fire Valley and had not Ab been really the one to kill the tiger. Besides, it was not wise for the waterside dwellers to engage in any controversy between the forest factions. For the hill people had memories and heavy axes. A few of the younger and more adventurous joined the force of Boreface, but the alliance had no tribal sanction. Still, the force of the swothered leader of the eastern cavemen was by no means insignificant. It contained good fighting men, and when runners had gone far and wide in the eastern country, there were gathered nearly ten score of hunters who could throw the spear or wield the axe and who were not fearful of their lives. The band led by Boreface started for the Fire Country, intending to surprise the people in the Valley. They moved swiftly, but not so swiftly as a fleet young man from the shell people who preceded them. He was sent by the elders a day before the time fixed for the assault, and so Ab learned all about the intended raid. Then went forth runners from the Valley. Then the Mater and Lightfoot's eyes became fiery since Ab was threatened. Then Old Hilltop looked carefully over his spears and poised thoughtfully his great stone axe. Then Moonface smote her children and gathered together certain weapons. And then Old Mock went into his cave and stayed there, working at none knew what. They came from all about the western cavemen, for never in the Valley had food or shelter been refused to any, and the eastern cavemen were not loved. Many a quarrel over game had taken place between the raging hunters of the different tribes, and many a bloody single-handed encounter had come in the depths of the forest. The band was not a large one, the eastern men being far more numerous, but the outlook was not as fine as it might be for the advancing Boreface. The force assembled inside the Valley was in point of numbers, but little more than half his own. But it was entrenched and well-armed, and there were those among the defenders whom it was not well to meet in fight. But Boreface was confident and was not dismayed when his force crept into the open only to find the ordinary valley entrance barred and all preparations made for giving him a welcome of the warmer sort. There was what could not be thoroughly barricaded in so brief a time, the entrance where the brook issued at the west. This pass must be forced, for the straight uprising wall between the flames and across the opening to the north was something relatively unassailable. It was too narrow and too high and sheer, and there were too many holes in the wall through which could be sent those piercing arrows, which the western cavemen knew how to use so well. The battle must be up along the bed of the little creek. The water was low at this season, so low that a man might wade easily anywhere, and there had been erected only a slight barrier, enough to keep wild beasts away, for Ab had never thought of invasion by human beings. The creek tumbled downward through passages between straight-sided ruggedly built stone heaps, with spaces between wide enough to admit a man, but not any great beast of prey. There was no place where, by a man, the wall could not easily be mounted and above, there was no really good place of vantage for the defenders. So the invading force, concealment of action being no longer necessary, ranged themselves along the banks of the creek to the west of the valley and prepared for a rush. They had certain chances in their favour. They were strong men who knew how to use their weapons well, and they were in numbers almost as two to one. Meanwhile, inside the valley, where the approach and plans of the enemy had been seen and understood, there had gone on swiftly under abster direction, such preparation for the fray as seen most adequate with the means at hand. The great advantage possessed was that the defenders on firm footing themselves could meet climbing men, and so a little further up the creek than the beaster-posting wall had been thrown up what was little more than a rude platform of rock, wide and with a broad expanse of top on which all the valley's force might cluster in an emergency. Upon this the people were together, defending the first pass, if they could by flights of spears and arrows and here at the end to win or lose. This was the general preparation for the onslaught. But there had been precautions taken more personal and more involving the course of the most important of the people of the valley. At the left of the gorge where must come the invaders, the rock rose shealy and at one place extended outward a shelf, high up, but reached easily from the fire valley side. There were consultations between Abbe and the angry and anxious and almost tearful lightfoot. That charming lady now easily the best archer of the tribe had developed her ones into a fighting creature and now demanded that her place be assigned to her. With her own bow and with arrows in quantity it was decided that she should occupy the ledge and do all she could. Upon the ledge was comparative safety in the fray and Abbe directed that she should go there. Old hilltop said but little. It was understood almost as a matter of course that he would be upon the barrier and their face with Abbe the greatest issue. The old man was by no means unsatisfactory to look upon as he moved silently about and got ready the weapons he might have to use. Gawnt, strong-muscled and resolute he was worthy of admiration. Ever following him with her eyes when not engaged in the chastisement of one of her swat brood was Moonface. For Moonface had long since learned to regard her grizzled Lord with love as well as much respect. There were other good-fighting men and other women beside these mentioned who would do their best. But these few were the dominant figures. Meanwhile Boreface and his strong band had decided upon their plan of attack and would soon rush up the bed of the shallow stream. With all the bravery and ferocity of those who were accustomed to face death lightly and to cease that which they wanted. The invaders came clamouring up the creek's course openly and with menacing and defiant shouts. For any concealment was now out of the question. They had but few bows and could under the conditions send no arrow flight which would be of avail. But they had fuse and sinews and spears and axes. As they came with such rush as men might make up a tumbling waterway with slipping pebbles beneath the feet and force themselves one by one between the heap stone piles and fairly in front of the barrier there was a discharge of arrows and more than one man impaled by a stone-headed shaft fell to dabble feebly in the water and did not rise again. But there came a time in the fight when the bow must be abandoned. The assault was good and the demeanour of the men behind the barrier was good as well. Not more glant was one group than the other for there were splendid fighters in both ranks. The boast of short sword of the Romans in times effeminate as compared with these afforded not in its wielding a greater test of personal courage than the handling of the flint-headed spear or the stone-knife or chipped axe. There all along the barrier was the real grappling of man and man with further existence as the issue. The invaders losing many of their number for arrows fled steadily and a mass so large could not easily be missed even by the most bungling of those strong archers. Swept upward toward the barrier and then was a muscular, deadly tumult worth the seeing. To the south and the nearest side where Lightfoot was perched with her bow and great bunch of arrows abstood in front. While to his right and near the other end of the Roodstone Rampart were stationed old hilltop. And he hurled his spears and slew men as they came. The fight became simply a death struggle with the advantage of position upon one side and of numbers on the other. And Ab and Boarface were each seeking the other. So the struggle lasted for a long half hour and when it ended there were dead and dying men upon the barrier while the waters of the creek were reddened by the blood of the slain assailants. The assault now ebbed a little. Neither Ab nor hilltop had been injured in the struggle. As the invaders pressed close Ab had noted the wish of an arrow now and then and the hurt to one pressing him closely. An old hilltop had heard the wild cries of a woman who hovered in his rear and hurled stones in the faces of those who strove to reach him. And now there came a lull. Boarface had recognised the futility of scaling under such conditions a steep so well defended and had thought of a better way to gain his end and crush Ab and his people. He had heard the story of Ab's first advent into the valley when chased by the wolves he leaped through the flame and there came an inspiration to him. What one man had done others could do and with the picked warriors of his band he made a swift detour while at the same time the main body rushed desperately upon the barrier again. What had been good fighting before was better now. Lives were lost and soon all arrows were spent and all spears thrown. And then came but the dull clashing of stone axes. Ab raged up and down and ever in the front faced the oncoming foe and slew as could slay the strong and utterly desperate. More than once his life was but a toy of chance as men sprang toward him two or three together. But ever at such moment there sang an arrow by his head and one of his assailants pierced in throat or body fell back blindly hampering his companions whose heads Ab's great acts were seeking fiercely. And all the time nearer the northern end of the barrier old hilltop fought serenely and dreadfully. There were many dead men in the pools of the creek between the barrier and the entrance to the valley and about Ab ever sang the arrows from the rocky shelf. There was wild clamour, the clash of weapons and the shouting of battle-crazed men. But there was not enough to drown the sound of a scream which rose piercingly above the din. Ab recognised the voice of Lightfoot and raised his eyes to see the woman, regardless of her own safety standing upright and pointing up the valley. He knew that something meaning life and death was happening and that he must go. He leaped backward and a huge western caveman sprang to his place to serve as best he could. Not a moment too soon had that shrill cry reached the ears of the fighting man. He ran backward, shouting to a scorer of his people to follow him as he ran and in an instant recognised that he had been outwitted, at least for the moment by the vengeful boreface. As he rushed to the east to war the wall of flame he saw a dark form pass through its crest in a flying leap. There were others he knew would follow. His own feet of long ago was being repeated by boreface and his chosen group of best men. It was not boreface who leaped and it was hard for a glant youth of the eastern cavemen that he had strength and daring and had dashed ahead in the assault. For he had scarcely touched the ground when there sank deeply into his head a stone axe impelled by the strongest arm of all that region and he was no more among things alive. Ab had reached the firewall with the speed of a great runner while close behind him came his eager following. The forces could see each other clearly enough now and those on the outside outnumbered those on the inside again by two to one. But those leaping the flames could not a light poise ready for a blow and there were a droid and vengeful axmen awaiting them. There was a momentary pause for planning among the assailants and then it was the ab fumed over his own lack of foresight. His chosen band who were with him now were all bowmen and about the shoulder and chest of each were still slung his weapon but there were no more arrows. Each quiverful had been shot away early in the fight and then had come the spear and axe play. But what a chance for arrows now with that threatening band preparing for the rush and leap together and while out a reach of spear or axe within easy reach of the singing little shafts. Oh for the shafts now those slender barb things which were hurled in his new way and even as he thus raged there came a feeble shout from down the valley behind him and he saw something very good. Limping with effort but resolutely forward was a bent old man bearing encircled within his long arms a burden which Ab himself could not have carried for any distance without stress and laboured breathing. The lean old mox arms were locked about a monster sheaf of straight flint headed arrows a sheaf greater in size than ever man had looked upon before. The crippled veteran had not been idle in his cave. He had worked upon the store of shafts and flint heads he had accumulated and here was the result in a great emergency. The old man cast his sheaf upon the ground and then sank down somewhat totteringly beside it. There needed no shout of command from Ab to tell those about him what to do. There was one combined yell of sudden exaltation a rush together for the shafts and a swift filling of empty quivers. It was but the work of a moment or two. Then something promptly happened. The great fellows though acting without orders shot almost all together as the later English archers did and so close just across the flame wall was the opposing group that the meanest archer in all the lot could scarcely fail to reach a living target. And stronger arms drew back those arrows than were the arms of those who drew bowstring in the battles of medieval history. With the first deadly flight came a scattering outside and men laid tossing upon the ground in their death agony. There was no cessation to the shot. Though Boreface sought fiercely to rally his followers until all had fled beyond the range of the bowmen. Upon the ground were so many dead that the numbers of the two forces were now more nearly equal. But Boreface had brave followers. They ranged themselves together at a safe distance and then started for the flame wall with a rush to leap it all together. There was another arrow flight as the onslaught came and more men went down but the charge could not be stopped. Over the low flame crest shot a great mass of bodies there to meet that which was not good for them. The struggle was swift and deadly but the forces were almost evenly matched now and the insiders had the advantage. Boreface and Ab met face to face in the melee and each leaped toward the other with a yell. There was to be a fight which must be excellent for two strong leaders were meeting and there were many lives at stake. End of Chapter 28 Chapter 29 of The Story of Ab This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Magdalena Cook The Story of Ab by Stanley Waterloo Chapter 29 Old Hilltop's Last Struggle Even as he leaped the flames the desperate Boreface hurled at Ab a fragment of stone which was a thing to be wisely dodged and the invader was fairly on his feet and in position to face his adversary as the Axis came together. More active, more powerful it may be and certainly more intelligent was Ab than Boreface. But the leader of the assailants had been a raider from early youth and knew how to take advantage. In those fierce days to attain the death of an enemy in any way was the practical end sought in a conflict. Close behind Boreface had leaped a youth to whom the leader had given his commands before the onrush and who, as he found his feet upon the valley's sword, sought not an adversary face-to-face but circled about the two champions seeking only to get behind the leaping Ab while Boreface occupied his sole attention. The young man bore a great stone-headed club, a dreadful weapon in such hands as his. The men struck furiously and flaked spun from the heavy Axis but Boreface was being slowly driven back when they descended upon Ab's shoulder a blow which swerved him and would certainly have felled a man with less heat brawn to meet the impact. At the same instant Boreface made a fierce downward stroke and Ab leaped aside without parrying or returning it for his arm was numbed. Another such blow from the newer assailant and his life was lost. Yet he dare not turn. That would be his death. And now Boreface rushed in again and as the Axis came together called to his henchmen to strike more surely. And just then, just as it seemed to Ab the end was near, he heard behind him the sharp twang of the bow-string which had sounded so sweetly at the valley's other end. And with a groan there pitched down upon the sword beside him a writhing man whose legs drew back and forth in agony and who had been pierced by an arrow shot fiercely and closely from behind and driven in between his shoulder blades. He knew what it must mean. The arm which had drawn the arrow to its head was that of a slight strong creature who was not a man. Lightfoot, wild with love and anxiety, had shot past Old Mock just as he laid down his bundle of arrows and when she saw her husband's peril had leaped forward with arrow upon string and slain his latest assailant in the nick of time. Now with arrow notched again and a face ablaze with murderous helpfulness she hovered near intent only upon sending a second shaft into the breast of Boreface. But there was no need. Unhamped now Ab rushed in upon his enemy and reigned such blows as only a giant could have parried. Boreface fought desperately but it was only man to man and he was not the equal of the madden one before him. His axe flew from his hand as his wrist was broken by Ab's descending weapon and the next moment he fell limply and hardly moved. For a second blow had sunk the stone weapon so deeply in his head that the haft was hidden in his long hair. It was all over in a moment now as Ab turned with a shout of triumph there was a swift end to the little battle. There were brief encounters here and there but the Eastern men were leaderless and less well equipped than their foes and though they fought as desperately as cornered wolves there was no hope for them. Three escaped. They fled wildly toward the flame and leaped over and through its flickering yellow crest and there was no pursuit. It was not a time for besieged men to be seeking useless vengeance. There came wild yells from the lower end of the valley where the great fight was on. With a cry Ab gathered his men together and the victorious band ran toward the barrier again there with overwhelming force to end the struggle. Even in later years did Ab regret that his fight with Boreface had not ended sooner. To save an old hero he had come too late. Boreface when taking with him a strong band to the upper end of the valley had still left a supposedly overwhelming force to fight its way up and over the barrier. Ab, away from the scene of struggle old hilltop assumed command. He was a fit man for such death-facing steadfastness as was here required. Never had Ab been able to persuade Lightfoot's father to use or even try the new weapon, the bow and arrow. He had no tender feeling toward modern innovations. He had a clear eye and strong arm and the axe and spear were good enough for him. He recognized Ab's great qualities but there were some things that even a well-regarded son-in-law could not impose upon any elder family male. Among these was his twanging bow with its light shaft better fitted for a child's plaything than for real work among men. As for him, give him a heavy spear with a blade well set in thongs or a heavy axe with a head well clenched in the sinew-bound wooden half. There was really a miss or failure to the spear thrust or the axe stroke. And now in proof of the soundness of his old-fashioned belief he staked ruggedly his life. There were few spears left, there were only axes on either side and there stood old hilltop upon the barrier, while beside him and all across stood men as brave if not quite as sturdy or as famous. In the rear of the line noise he sometimes fears and sometimes weeping were the women whose skill was only a little less than that of the males and who were even more ruthless in a feeling toward the enemy. And still easily chief among these and spicuous by her noisy and uncaring demeanour of mingled alarm and vengefulness was the raging moon-face. She rushed up close behind her husband's defending group and still hurled stones and hurled them most effectively. They went as if from a catapult and more than one bone or head was broken that day by those missiles from the arm of this squat-savage wife and mother. But the men below were outnumbering and brave and now maddened by different emotions, the lust of conquest, the murderous anger over slain companions and underlying all the thought of ownership of this fair and warm and safe place of home were resolute in their attack. They had faith in their leader, boar-face, and expected confidently every moment and onslaught to aid them from above. And so they came up the watery slope, one pressing blood thirstily behind the other with an earnestness none but men are strong and well-equipped and as brave or braver could hope to withstand. The closing struggle was desperate. Hilltop stood to the front between two rocks and few yards apart, over which bubbled the shallow creek and between which was the main upward entrance to the valley. He stood upon a rock almost as flat as if some expert engineer of ages later had planed its surface and then adjusted it to a level, leaving the shallow waters tumbling all about it. The rock outjutted somewhat on the slope and there must necessarily be some little climb to face the age defender. On either side was a stretch of down-running, gradually sloping waterfall full of great boulders embarrassing any straight rush of a group together. But between and upward sprang swat men and facing them on either side of old Hilltop beyond the rocks where the remainder of the mass of cavemen upon whom he depended for making good the defence of the whole barrier. Beside him in the centre of the battle were the two creatures in the world upon whom he could most depend. He stole water and splendid suns, strong arm and branch. With them, as Galant, if not as strong as his great brother, stood Brace the eager bark. They were ready these young men, but as a chance there could be at the beginning of the strong clamber of the foe only one man to first meet them. All were behind this man at the front for the flat rock came to something like a point. He stood there, hairy and bare, except for the skin about his hips and with only an axe in his hand. But this did not matter so much as it might have done, for only axes were borne by the up clambering assailants. The throwing of an axe was a little matter to the sharp-eyed and flexible muscle cavemen who could not dodge an axe was better out of the way and out of the world. A meeting such as this impending must be a matter only of close personal encounter and fencing with arm and wooden handle and flint head of edge and weight. There was a clash of stone together and one after another strong creatures with cloven skulls toppled backward to fall into the babbling creek, their blood helping to change its colouring. Leaping from side to side across his rock along each edge of which the water rushed, old hilltop met the mass of enemies, while those who passed were brained by his great sons or by those behind. But the forces were unequalled and the plain in front was not steep enough nor the water deep enough to prevent something like an organised onslaught. With fearful regularity, uplifted and thrown aside occasionally in defence to avoid a stroke, the axe of hilltop fell and there was more and more fine-fighting and fine-dying. On either side were men doing scarcely less stark work. Hilltop's two sons on either side of him now as the assailants, crowded by those behind, pressed closer, fully justified their parentage by what they did, and bark was like a young tiger. But the onslaught was too strong. There were too many against too few. There were loud cries, a sudden impulse, and though Axis rose and fell, and more men tumbled backward into the water, the rock was swept upon and won and the old man stood alone amid his foes, his sons having been carried backward by the pressure of the mass. There was solemn battling on the upper level, but there was no fray so red as that were hilltop. Old as he was, swung his awful axe among the close crowding throng of enemies about him. Four fell with scales cleanly split before a giant of the invaders got behind the gray defender of the pass. Then a knax came crashing down an old hilltop pitch forward, dead before he fell into the cool waters of the pool below. There was a yell of exaltation from the upward climbing eastern cavemen as they saw the most dangerous of their immediate enemies go down. But before the echoes had come back, the sound was lost in that which came from the height above them. It was loud and threatening, but not the yell of their own kind. There had come sweeping down the valley the victors in the fight at the eastern end. Ab, with the lust of battle fully upon him as he heard the wild shriek of moon face who had seen her husband fall, was the creature as hungry for blood as any beast of all the forest and his followers were scarce less terrible. Swift and dreadful was the encounter which followed, but the issue was not doubtful for a moment. The barrier's living defenders became as wild themselves as were these conquering allies. The fight became a massacre. Flying hopelessly up the valley, the remnant only some 20 of the eastern cavemen ran into the vacant big cave for refuge and there barricaded could keep their pursuers at bay for the time at least. There was no immediate attack made upon the remnant of the assailants who had thus sought refuge. They were safely imprisoned and about the cave's entrance there lay down to eat and rest a body of vengeful men of twice their number. The struggle was over and won, but there was little happiness in the fire valley which had been so well defended. Moon face, wildly fighting, had seen her husband's death. With the rush of abs returning force which changed the tide of battle she had been swept away, shrieking and seeking to force herself toward the rock whereon old hilltop had so well demeaned himself. Now there emerged from one side a woman who spoke to none but who clambered down the rough waterway and waded into the little pool below the rock and stooped and lifted something from the water. It was the body of the brave old hunter off the hills. With her arms clutched about it, the woman began to clamber upward again, shaking her head dumbly when rude warriors touched somehow despite the coarse texture of the being came wading in to assist her with a ghastly burden. She emerged with it upon the level and laid it gently down upon the grass but still uttered no word until her children gathered and the weeping life foot came to her and put her arms about her. And then from the uncouth creature's eyes came a flood of tears and a gas which broke the tension and the death wail sounded through the valley. The poor affectionate animal was a little nearer herself again. There were dead men lying beside the flames at the eastern end of the valley and these were brought by the men and tossed carelessly into the pools below where lay so many others off the slain. There were storm clouds gathering and all the valley people knew what must happen soon. The storm clouds burst, the little creek transformed suddenly into a torrent by the fall of water from the heights above, swept the dead men away together to the river and so toward the sea. Of all the invading force, there remained alive only the three who had re-leaped the flames and those imprisoned in the cave. There was counsel that night between Ab and his friends and as the easiest way of disposing of the prisoners in the cave. It was proposed to block the entrance and allow the miserable losers in battle to their starve at their leisure. But the thoughtful Olmok took Ab aside and said, why not let them live and work for us? They will do as you say. This was the place they wanted. They can stay and make us stronger. And Ab saw the reason of all this and the hungry and present men were given the alternative of death or obedient companionship. They did not hesitate long. The warmth of the valley and its other advantages were what they had come for and they had no narrow views outside the food and fuel question. The valley was good. They accepted Ab's authority and came out and fed and with their wives and children who were sent for became of the valley people. This place of refuge and home and fortress was acquiring an importance. End of chapter 29. Chapter 30 of the story of Ab. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Amane Nochidehi. The Story of Ab by Stanley Waterloo. Chapter 30, Our Very Great Grandfather. And the years passed. One still afternoon in autumn, a gray, hairy man, a man approaching old age but without weakness of arm or stiffness of joint as yet, sat on the height overlooking the village. He looked in tranquil comfort, now down into the little valley and now across it into the wood beyond where the sun was approaching the treetops. He'd come to the hill with the mere instinct of the old hunter seeking to be completely out of doors but he'd brought work with him and was engaged when not looking thoughtfully far away and finishing a huge bow, the spring of which he occasionally tested. Every motion showed the retained possession of tremendous strength as well as the knowledge of its use to most advantage. A very hail old man was Ab, the great hunter and head of the people of the fire valley. A few yards away from Ab, leaning against the trunk of a beach stood Lightfoot, her quick glance roving from place to place and as keen seemingly as ever. These two were still most content when together and it was well for each that they had in the same degree withstood what the years bring. The woman had perhaps changed less than the man. Her hair was still dark and her step had not grown heavy. She had changed in face and expression rather than in form. There had grown in her eyes and about her mouth the indefinable lines and tokens, pathetic and sweet, of care, of sorrow, of suffering and of quiet gladness and short of motherhood. As twilight came on the woods rang with the shouts and laughter of a party of young men who were coming home from some forest trip. Ab looking down the valley over the flashing flame into the forest hills in whose deep shade lay little mock old hilltop and ob's mother. Could see the lusty youths in the village, running, leaping, wrestling and throwing spears, axes and stones in competition. A strange oppression came upon him and he thought of oak lying in the ground alone on the hillside miles away. Ob felt even now the strong helpful arm of his friend around him, just as it was in the evening journey from the feast of the mammoth homeward when he had been rescued from almost certain death by oak. A lump rose in the throat of the man of many battles and many trials. He shook himself as if to shake off the memory that plagued him. Oak came not often to trouble ob's peace now and when he came it was always at night. Morning never found him near the fire village. The young hunters, rioting like the young men in the valley, were passing now. Ob looked upon them thoughtfully. He felt dimly a desire to speak to them to tell them something about the hurts they might avoid and how hard it was to have a great heavy load on one's chest at times, all one's life. But the caveman was, as to the emotions, an articulate. Ob could no more have spoken his half-defined feelings and the tree could cry out at the blow of the axe. The woman left the beech tree and approached the man and touched his arm. His eyes turned upon her kindly and after she had seated herself beside him, there was laughing talk. For Lightfoot was declaring her desperate condition of hunger and demanding that he return to the valley with her. She examined his boat critically and had an opinion to express. For so fine a shot as she might surely talk a little about so manful a thing as the making of the weapon. And as the sun sank lower and the valley fell into shadow, the two descended together, a pair of who, after all, had reason to be glad that they had lived. And the children these two left were bold and strong and dominant by nature and maintained the family leadership as the village grew. With later generations came trouble, vast and dire, to the people of the land. But it was not the part of this proud and seasoned and well-weapened group to flee like wild beasts when came drifting to the westward, the first feeble vanguard of the Ariane overflow. The vanguard was overthrown, its men made serfs and its women mothers. Other cavemen in other regions might escape to the northward as the wave increased, there to become frostbitten laps or the scrawlings of the Norsemen, the Eskimo of today. But not so the people of the Great Fire Valley or their stern and sturdy vessels for half a hundred miles about. No child's play was it for those of another and still rude civilization to meet them in their fastnesses. And the end of the struggle for this region at least was not a conquest but a blending, a blending good for each of the two forces. And as the face of nature changed with the ages, as the later glacial cold wavered and fluctuated and forced back and forth migrations of men and beasts, still the first formed group retained coherence, retained it beyond great natural cataclysms, retained it to historic ages to wield long the smooth stone weapons and afterward the bronze axes and to diverge in many branches of contentious defenders and invaders to become Iberian and Gaul and Celt and Saxon to fight family against family and to commingle again in these later times. Upon the beach the other day, watching the waves lap toward her, sat a woman, cultured, very beautiful and wise in women's way and among the fairest and the best of all earth can produce. There are many such as she. Barely longer ago than the other day, as time has counted, a rugged man, gentle as resolute and noble, became the enshrined hero of a vast republic when he struck from slave limbs and shackles of four million people. In an insular home across the sea, interested still in the world's affairs, is an old man vigorous in his octogenarianism, a power, though out of power, a figure to be a monument in personal history, a great man. But a few years ago the whole world stood with bowed heads while into the soil he loved was lowered the coffin of one of who has bound the nations together in sympathy for Les Miserables of the earth. In a home on the continent broods watchfully the bald-headed giant in cavalry boots, one who's dictated arbitrarily as premier, the policy of the empire he's largely made. The woman upon the sands, the great liberator, the man wonderful even in old age, the heart-stirring writer, the man of giant personality, physical and mental, have had reason to boast alike a strain of the blood of ob and light foot. And the veins of each has danced the transmitted product of the identical corpuscles which coursed in the veins of those two who first found a home in the fire valley. Strong was primitive man, adroit, patient, unfaithful was primitive woman. He, the strongest, she, the fairest and cleverest of the time, could protect their offspring, breed and care for great children of similar powers, and so ensure a lasting race. Thus has the good blue blood come down. This is not romance, this is not fancy, but this is faithful history. End of chapter 30, an end of the story of Ab.