CHAPTER III
Ru the Sparrow-Hearted did not remain to hear Grumgra's final words. Hurt in a manner that he himself could hardly understand, he shambled away into the farther darkness, picking his course along winding, coal-black passages with a certainty that only perfect familiarity could have made possible.
At length, out of the dusky distance, there shone a feeble light, flickering uncannily as a phantom. Gradually it brightened, until by the dim radiance Ru could distinguish the curving low-roofed outlines of the cavern, whose walls were irregular and misshapen as though carved by some egregious blunder of nature. But he kept on without paying any heed to those well-known formations; and finally, after rounding a sudden turn, he found himself face to face with a log fire—a much smaller fire than that at the farther end of the cavern, and yet large enough to shed a comfortable light and warmth.
With a thankful sigh, Ru flung himself down into a little hollow in the rock across from the fire. And there, curled up like a cat basking in the sunlight, he lay motionless for many minutes, staring with wide, contemplative eyes into the writhing flames.
Strange thoughts kept trailing through his mind—thoughts that stung and tortured and would leave him no peace. Why must he always call forth his people's raillery and jests? Was it only because his limbs were small and his eyes were gray? Had he not done that which none of them could do? Had he not, as the reward of many days of labor, hewed out this hollow in the cavern wall, where he might lie in comfort while his tribesmen lay on the rocky floor? And had he not built his own fire, and even made a chimney in the rock above, that he might have warmth and light while his fellows had only the dark and cold? And had he not made a club more powerful than any other of its size, by tipping it with flint while they used only wood? And had he not shaped and sharpened his flint knives and cleavers till they worked twice as easily as those his tribesmen used? And was he not even now planning that which no man had planned before—a weapon that would strike like lightning, and slay at a great distance?
As the thought of the new weapon came into his mind, Ru reached meditatively for a long, slender shaft of wood that lay concealed in a crevice between two rocks. It was little more than the thin, wiry trunk of a young tree, denuded of branches and leaves; but a crude perforation at each extremity showed the clear mark of human workmanship; and the dried tendrils of a fibrous plant, stretched loosely between the two ends of the shaft, gave evidence of what the young artizan was attempting.
Forgetting his resentment at the injustice of his tribe, Ru began to apply himself to his invention. First he stood with one end of the shaft pressed against the cavern floor, and strained and pushed with his right hand until the wood was bent outward in a wide curve; then he strained and pulled with his left to draw the tendril of the plant tightly from end to end of the shaft.
He had almost succeeded, when the tendril snapped and the wood shot out and straightened with a force that sent him reeling against the cavern wall.
Less bruised than angered, he was picking himself up, when a low merry giggling rang out of the darkness behind him. And even without turning he recognized the voice of Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed.
"So the Sparrow-Hearted is still playing his pranks?" laughed the newcomer, in tones that betrayed as much of malice as of good-natured gaiety.
And there stood before him, in the smoky firelight, she who of all women in the world was for him the most beautiful, the most tantalizing, and the most wrath-provoking. To the eye of a later age, she might not have proved seductive—but to the untrained eye of Ru she represented the acme of all things desirable and unattainable. Clad in a glossy robe of horsehide, with her full, well-rounded breasts and her muscular legs exposed, she bore on every feature the impress of her tribe—the massive head, the low, wide forehead and bony eyebrow ridges, the large, flexible ears, the powerful jaws and huge flat nose. But in her wily black eyes—somewhat larger than those of her kinsmen—there gleamed and glittered a strange, alluring light that set her off from all the other women of the tribe. When she smiled, Ru felt that a wonderful fire shone over her whole face, so that he would forget that she was a mere human like himself, but would think of wild flowers unfolding in the spring fields, and blue lakes twinkling beneath blue skies, and rainbows and stars and the song of birds.
Ru did not know why he had such thoughts on seeing Yonyo, for he had never heard any of his brothers speak of like feelings. Nor did he know why the very sight of Yonyo made him tremble as the sight of no other woman could do, so that he was often sad when she was away, and was filled with strange, disturbing longings when she was near. All this Ru did not understand, but he did understand very well that Yonyo would never be his woman—for did she ever seem glad when he spoke gentle words to her? And did she ever smile upon him except to mock? Besides, was she not coveted by Woonoo the Hot-Blooded and Kuff the Bear-Hunter?—And could he swing a club so well as these great rivals of his, and win his bride in an open fight?
With the anger of the baffled, he turned upon Yonyo; and there was no gentleness in his voice as he met her taunting question: "Yes, Yonyo, I am still playing my pranks. And there will come a day when the tribe will beg to play them with me! You, too!—even you, the tormenting and the Smiling-Eyed!"
A low burst of scornful laughter came as her reply. And pointing toward the shaft of wood, which he still held in his hand, she demanded contemptuously: "Is it with that stick that you will make us play your pranks? Tell me, Ru, is it a wonder stick?"
"Yes, it is a wonder stick!" flung back Ru, choking down an impulse to seize his bright-eyed tantalizer and force her to her knees before him, until she cried for mercy and the tears came.
For a moment he stood confronting her in a glaring silence, while the sparks danced about her and the flames fitfully illuminated her tanned hairless face.
And then, seized with a longing to make her understand, to make her share his own enthusiasm, Ru reiterated: "It is a wonder stick, Yonyo! Listen, and I will tell you about it!"
"Yes, tell me," she murmured, somewhat subdued by his earnestness, although ridicule still shone in her eyes.
"Have you never gone roaming among the bushes and shrubs, Yonyo?" he demanded, speaking with a fury born partly of the bright appeal in her face, and partly of the breathless interest of a great discovery. "Have you never noticed how one may twist and bend the small shoots, so that they will swish back with terrible force? I was wondering, Smiling-Eyed, if I could stretch a stout fiber between the ends of one of those shoots. Then I could bend and hold it so that it would swish back whenever I wanted. And it might throw a sharp stick through the air like a rock, and make a weapon that would strike from far away—"
"And strike those foolish thoughts from your head!" derided Yonyo, bursting again into laughter.
Ru, cut short at the climax of his discourse, felt a renewed impulse to seize and throttle her.
But perhaps she divined his intention, for with a scornful, "The Sparrow-Hearted has need of new weapons!" she went darting down the shadowy passageway, and in a moment had disappeared around a bend, her mocking laughter ringing merrily behind her.
Within Ru's breast a choking anger arose; and her flight was like a challenge to follow. With furious eyes and fast-heaving heart he set off in pursuit, filled by a blind desire to seize the elusive one and crush her madly to him.
But she was swift of foot, and in those dark corridors he could not even see her flying form. Only her laughter, echoing merrily through the gloom, told him that she was not far beyond; and such was his frenzy that he had little thought of possible danger, but dashed ahead despite the risk of stumbling over some unseen rock or depression in the cavern floor.
Yet not until he had approached the great fire at the cave entrance did he see her again. Then, still with a smile upon her taunting face, she stood gleefully awaiting his arrival. But she was not alone—just ahead of her, overshadowing her like a protective tower, stood Woonoo the Hot-Blooded!
And from the ugly thick lips of the giant there issued a menacing snarl; and the bull-like form advanced with powerful arms outspread to seize and strangle his adversary.
Knowing better than to risk a conflict, Ru merely answered his opponent's challenge growl for growl, while backing away at no inconsiderable speed. Then, when suddenly the Hot-Blooded tired of delay and started toward him with a swift ferocious lunge, Ru turned and raced furiously back into the shadows.
And merry was the tittering of Yonyo, as she witnessed the rout of the weakling. And merry was the laughter of the tribespeople as they watched Ru's hasty retreat, and murmured: "See the Sparrow-Hearted run! How well the Sparrow-Hearted runs!" But dark indeed was the gloom within the heart of Ru when at length he had outdistanced his rival and slouched sulkily back to his lonely fire in the loneliest, farthest corner of the cave.