CHAPTER XIII
On the day following Ru's return, a badly needed hunt was held—for the tribe was running short of provisions, and many were the complaints that there was not meat enough. Several hours were occupied in digging pits in the rough earth by means of rude flint spades, and in covering these cavities with grass and the green limbs of trees. Since this was unfamiliar territory, however, much more than the usual time was necessary for stationing the men in a circle about the snares before the howling dash upon the prey. Yet even after the most careful precautions—and Grumgra, wielding his club, saw that the precautions were careful indeed—the hunt was a failure; all that the men gained for their efforts was two small deer and one half-grown boar.
But there was one who took no part in the hunt. While his tribesmen set off in pursuit of the game, Ru started away by himself along the bank of the river. In his gray eyes, as he ambled slowly up-stream, there was a contemplative glow; while his ample brow was contracted in thoughtful furrows. He realized that he must do something spectacular before another day had passed; otherwise, his story about the wind-god would be disbelieved, and the torture of the branding would be as nothing compared to that which awaited him.
But what was he to do? He did not know; and in his mind was merely the vaguest idea about floating logs propelled by long poles ... an idea so indefinite that it flashed into his consciousness and flashed out again as something alluring, provocative, and elusive as a dream.
He had strolled perhaps two or three miles before a lucky chance—coupled with his own quick perception—offered a solution of his problem. Rounding a turn in the river, he found himself on the shores of a placid little lake or pond opening into the stream. It was so small that he could have passed around it in two or three minutes; and no doubt he would soon have left it behind him had not his eyes been caught by that which filled him with sudden gladness. Here, in truth, was a lucky find! Half covered by the shallow water, half stranded on the sandy beach, were not less than six or eight trunks of dead trees.
It was not a minute before Ru had renewed his experiments in navigation. Using his club as paddle, he launched himself toward the middle of the pond; while, standing on a huge log, he balanced himself precariously. Or—to be more precise—he hardly balanced himself at all; time after time the log rolled and he toppled into the water, and before long he realized that it would be wiser to seat himself, as formerly, astride the log.
This he was about to do when a second log, released by his efforts, chanced to brush gently against that on which he stood. For a minute the two floated side by side, moving almost as one across the calm surface of the pond. And Ru, hoping to gain a better foothold, stationed one foot on each log—with the result that the two glided abruptly apart, and he was precipitated once more into the water.
But this time he emerged a wiser man. A sudden idea had come to him—an idea so simple that he could not understand why he had not thought of it before, and yet so amazing that at first he could only hold his breath and wonder if he were not dreaming. Suppose that he found some way of holding the two logs together!—would he not have a craft on which he might stand without fear of being plunged into the pond? Would he not be able to ride as he pleased across the waters, propelling himself by his pole, and so winning a might that even the river-god could not challenge? And would he not thereby surprise and dazzle his people? make them believe that he had indeed wonderful powers, powers that proved him especially favored by the spirits of the wind and waters?
So Ru reflected—but he did not spend much time on fruitless reveries. The problem before him was a practical one; and, with all the practical sense at his command, he set about to solve it. In constructing his new craft, the one important step would be to lash the two logs firmly together—and how could this be accomplished? Fortunately, Ru recalled how members of his tribe, in carrying fagots from the woods, had long been accustomed to bind them together with the tough stems and tendrils of creeping plants; and, moreover, he had long ago learned just what plants were most useful for such purposes and where to find them. So it was a matter of but an hour to go browsing through the woods, and, with the aid of flint implements, to cut off fibers enough to bind as many logs as need be.
Late that afternoon, as the Umbaddu huntsmen, laden with their meager trophies, returned gloomily from the chase, they were startled by an extraordinary sight. Coming out through a clump of bushes onto the river bank, they paused with exclamations of wonder and fear—in the midst of the waters was a spectacle such as no eye had ever rested on before since the world's beginning. Was that a man standing on a little platform in the center of the river, standing in one place and yet moving slowly down-stream, while pushing and pushing with a long pole? Was it a man, or was it a god? For what man had ever been able to stand on the waters without being drowned?
"The bad spirits of the river! The bad spirits of the river are coming after us!" cried some of the more superstitious. Hysterical with dread, they flung themselves down on the ground, and began to pray frantically. At the same time, some of their fellows fled shrieking back to the woods, and some merely watched and trembled—and all the while that terrible figure on the river kept drawing nearer, nearer. At length it was no longer a vague black blur, but had taken on definite outlines. And, strange to say, those outlines were familiar! The watchers were amazed to see the hairy limbs and deerskin robe of one whom they recognized.
Or, if their eyes bore false reports, could their ears also deceive them? Was that not a well-known voice crying out, faintly and from afar, and yet clearly and in their own tongue: "My tribesmen, my tribesmen, look what the river-god has given me! Come, and see what the river-god has given!"
Ru walks the waters
Ru walks the waters
Ru walks the waters
And while scores of gleaming black eyes stared out across the waters in consternation and wonder, Ru the Sparrow-Hearted rode by on his way down the river.
Half an hour later an excited group had gathered on the bank by the tribal camping-place. Men were shouting, women gibbering and crying, children racing back and forth with tumultuous exclamations; and all eyes were fastened upon a solitary form in midstream. But Ru, while he could not but know of the uproar he had caused, seemed in no hurry to come to land. He appeared not to hear his people calling, but by turns allowed himself to drift slowly down-stream, and then paddled energetically up-stream until he had regained every lost inch.
Never before had he been so much admired. "It is magic! A wizard's magic!" murmured the people; and many were the prayers offered by frightened lips and awestricken minds to Ru and the river-god. Even Zunzun the Marvel-Worker—he for whom magic was a daily affair—watched in a sullen silence that made his amazement only too apparent. Even Grumgra the Growling Wolf—he who believed in the might of clubs far more than the might of spirits—stood staring open-mouthed and gaping-eyed toward that wonder on the river. Whatever he may have felt, he expressed himself only by an occasional growl; and it was not anger or contempt that shone from those glittering ferret eyes, but rather bewilderment tinged with what may have been a hint of fear.
Not the least astonished of the party, and not the least interested, was Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed. She stared out toward the waters as intently as any of the others, and her cries expressed as much of wonder and awe; yet, after the spectacle had lasted for some minutes, she succeeded in veiling her surprise, and went so far as to chaff her two companions—Kuff the Bear-Hunter and Woonoo the Hot-Blooded.
"See! There is a real man!" she cried, pointing to Ru. "He stands on a log—and it carries him out across the waters! It is really nothing—any of you could do the same—but none of you are brave enough! No, neither you, Kuff, nor you, Woonoo, are such a man as Ru! You could not go walking on the river!" And long and scornful was the laughter of the Smiling-Eyed.
"I could do it! It is easy!" pleaded Woonoo, stung by her contempt.
"I too!" chimed in Kuff, not to be outdone.
"I do not see you do it!" she flung her challenge.
For a moment Kuff and Woonoo stared at one another in uncertainty; confusion and fear shone in their eyes.
"I do not see you do it! I only hear your words!" taunted Yonyo. "Are you going to let the Sparrow-Hearted laugh at you?"
This gibe was more than Woonoo could endure. With an angry cry, he pointed to a fallen tree that lay near the river at the verge of the forest. "Come!" he growled, and, with Kuff at his heels, started hastily away.
By means of a tremendous straining and tugging, the two men pulled the log into the water. Before they had succeeded, a crowd had been attracted by their noise and exertions, and had gathered shouting about them. Among the onlookers, the gigantic form of the chieftain was conspicuous.
It was Woonoo that made the first attempt. Mounting the log, while his watchers murmured in astonishment and delight, he pushed with his club against the bottom of the stream—and for a moment he seemed to be emulating Ru, for a moment he too seemed favored of the river-god, and balanced himself securely on the surface of the gliding log.
A proud and envied figure he was as the distance between him and the land gradually widened—one pace, two paces, five paces, until he seemed to be doing all that Ru had done!
"Look at Woonoo! Woonoo is walking upon the waters!" cried the excited people. "The river-god does what Woonoo tells him to!"
Even Grumgra, forgetting his club, seemed to be mightily impressed; he yelled and clamored with the others, exclaiming in a thundering bass: "Look at Woonoo! Woonoo is an enchanter! Walk all the way across the river, Woonoo! Walk all the way across the river!"
But, just when the applause was at its highest, something happened. Just what it was that happened, Woonoo himself could never say, for it was all over too quickly for him to know. Perhaps the log struck a snag in the stream, perhaps it merely rolled and turned over, perhaps Woonoo was so overwhelmed by the cheering that he, forgot to keep his balance. At any rate, all that he knew was that one moment he was standing like a conqueror on the log, and the next had gone plunging through space and felt the cold waters closing over him.
But as, wildly sputtering, he arose from his unpremeditated bath, tumultuous laughter came to his ears. And, turning his eyes shoreward, he beheld scores of amused faces shining derisively.
A sobered and much meeker man, he waded slowly to land, while the unoccupied log went drifting away with the current.
But his misfortunes were not over, for no sooner had he reached the bank than he was confronted by the irate Grumgra.
"You are more foolish than the Sparrow-Hearted!" bawled the chieftain. And the great club was lifted, and came down with a resounding smack.
Howling with agony, Woonoo clutched a bruised shin and limped away toward the woods, while after him rang the mocking laughter of his people.
Not the least contemptuous was the laughter of the Smiling-Eyed. "Is there no man among you?" she ridiculed, as she pointed to the retreating form of the abject Woonoo. "Must you let yourselves all be laughed at by the Sparrow-Hearted?"
So saying, she turned again to the river bank, and bent her eyes upon that lonely figure, far out in the stream, who was now beginning to propel himself slowly landward.