CHAPTER XIV
It was an excited audience that made way before Ru as he steered himself to land. Heedless of the waiting throng, he jumped into the water as soon as the head of his craft struck the river bottom; then, by means of strenuous straining and tugging, he pulled the catamaran up upon the bank, lest it be borne away by the current.
In this task he was greatly impeded by the people that swarmed about him, gibbering and shouting, gabbling incessant questions, staring at the raft in wide-eyed curiosity.
"Do not touch it!" Ru felt forced to cry, in exasperation. "If you do, the river-god will strike you down!" The threat proved effective; the people at once backed away to a respectful distance, and stood regarding Ru and his handiwork with a reverence that was a compound of wonder and fear.
"Now do you not believe the river-god is my friend?" exclaimed Ru, when at last the raft was safely beached. "Do I not speak truth when I say that the river-god and the wind-god have done great deeds for me?"
Not a person had a word to say in reply; and, in the midst of an impressive silence, Ru started away. There was none who raised a hand or spoke a word to stop him; even the glowering Grumgra and the glaring Zunzun seemed not less impressed than the others, and gazed after him in a sort of stunned respect.
But there was one who did make bold to follow the retreating Ru. She pursued him not directly but in a wide ambling curve, and her course was not apparent; yet it was not many minutes before Ru, approaching the edge of the woods, heard a light voice calling behind him, and turned to find himself confronted by—Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed!
Truly, she deserved her name now if ever, for her face was like a burst of laughter. Her large black eyes burned with brilliant fires beneath beetling ridges; her gleaming white teeth shone merrily by contrast with the tan of her face and the black of her dense, loose-flowing locks; her manner was as simple and ingratiating as that of a child who comes to crave a favor.
Ru, although he still felt anger against her, could not but be impressed. He thought that he had never beheld anyone quite so beautiful before; once again a strange, unaccountable feeling, half tender and reverential, took possession of him; and he experienced vague stirrings of a longing which he could not understand, and which could be at once fierce and sweet.
"So the Sparrow-Hearted has worked wonders!" she exclaimed, not waiting for the preliminary of a greeting. "Soon we will call you Ru the Marvel-Worker! Zunzun will envy you—he has no marvel like yours! Tell me, Ru, how did you do such great deeds?"
"I have told you already," he returned, eying her questioningly. "Have I not told all the people about it?"
"But there are things you have not told them!" she cried. "I know there are things you have not told them! Let me hear those things, Ru!" And she flung herself down upon a clump of grass, and motioned to him invitingly.
Therefore what was Ru to do but obey?
"Tell me all that you did!" she urged, smiling her most ingratiating smile as he took a seat beside her. "Did the river-god and the wind-god show you how to walk upon the waters? Or did you find out all by yourself?"
"Do you not believe it was as I said?" he asked, regarding her gravely. "Do you not believe I spoke truth?"
"I know you spoke truth!" she assured him, with what may have been a trifle too much emphasis. And the smiles rippled across her face as she proceeded: "But I wish the gods had not helped you so much. I wish you had found out all by yourself how to walk upon the waters. That would be a much bigger deed!"
"I did find out all by myself!" Ru found himself admitting; then stopped suddenly, fearing he had said too much.
"Did you? Did you?" exclaimed Yonyo, clapping her hands delightedly. "Tell me about it! Tell me!"
Confused and embarrassed, Ru did not know what to do except to confess everything.
And so, beginning with how he had been saved by the drifting log in the Harr-Sizz River, and how he had propelled himself across the lake and later rescued himself from the man-eating savages, Ru gave Yonyo a full account of his experiences as navigator. He dwelt at greatest length upon the way in which he had made a raft by lashing two logs together; and he spared no details in his description, particularly since Yonyo hung eagerly upon his every word, questioned him when she did not understand, made him repeat when she was in doubt, and all the while regarded him with such wondering and admiring eyes that he felt his adventures had been worth while merely in order to make this moment possible.
When he had finished, she beamed upon him genially, and told him that surely, after all, he was favored by the gods, for without the gods' help no one could have done all that he had done. Her manner was so affable that he felt again the old curious impulse to put his arms about her and draw her close. But perhaps she did not know what was in his mind, for just when he was about to act upon his desire, she rose abruptly to her feet, and started tripping merrily away across the fields.
"Let us go back to camp!" she called; and though he cried out his objections, she danced away all the more swiftly. Not to be daunted so easily, he set out in pursuit; but she increased her speed; and all the way back she led him a gay chase, for women in those days were fleet-footed and skilled in saving themselves by flight.
Immediately upon his return to the camp, he was waylaid by tribesmen, who deluged him with questions; and while he was busy attempting to answer, Yonyo disappeared among the crowd.
That evening, while Ru sat with his kinsmen before the camp-fire, chewing at his scanty portion of meat and at some tough, uncooked roots he had gathered, there occurred an event that brought Yonyo back to his mind in no pleasant fashion. While scores of men and women munched and munched contentedly and the sound of busy jaws mingled with that of the crackling fires and jabbering tongues, the tall form of Grumgra was seen to arise; and the thunderous voice of Grumgra lifted itself above that of the multitude.
"One of our people has been telling us great lies!" he proclaimed, wasting no time about coming to the point. "He has said that the wind-god and the river-god showed him how to walk upon the waters. But the wind-god and the river-god did not show him anything at all. One of our people heard him say that he only tied two logs together, just as we sometimes tie fagots. There is no magic in that at all. Is it not so, Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed?"
And Grumgra nodded significantly toward Yonyo, before continuing: "After the sun comes up again, I myself will show you how to walk upon the waters. I will tie two logs together, and then one of you may go across the river just as the Sparrow-Hearted has done. Who wants to be the first to do that?"
Grumgra paused.... An utter silence fell across the assemblage.
"You may do it!" pronounced the chieftain, designating one of the most stalwart-looking of his followers. "You, Kimo the Hairy Mammoth!"
Kimo shuddered; a frightened light flashed from his tiny black eyes. But he answered not a word.
"Kimo will show you that the Sparrow-Hearted has learned no magic at all," concluded the Growling Wolf. "He will walk across the waters very easily—and after that we will punish the Sparrow-Hearted for telling us lies!"
Titters and loud guffaws greeted this speech; and, from the scornful glances in his neighbors' eyes, Ru perceived that his prestige had dwindled toward the vanishing-point.
But it was not his prestige that troubled him now, nor even his impending punishment—it was the treachery of her whom he had adored. Could she actually have told Grumgra the secret he had confided for her ears alone? If so, she was not to be forgiven! Without being able to say why, he felt that a great wrong had been done him. And anger, proportionate to his very helplessness, flamed to life within him. He was gripped by a passion that was almost murderous, and he would have been glad to strike out violently to relieve his overburdened mind and wounded feelings.
Fortunately, it was not possible to strike out violently just then; he had to content himself with clenching and unclenching his fists furiously and kicking savagely at the unoffending soil. That night he could not sleep, but stared out wide-eyed through the long hours at the pale twinkling stars and the weird flickering firelight. When morning came, his frenzy had spent itself; he felt little besides a great weariness, and a disgust that was made up in part of his resentment at the world, and in part of an insatiable vague melancholy. Yet he did find the energy to move his lips in a whispered prayer—and, had one drawn close, one might have heard an invocation to the river-god to bring down vengeance upon his betrayers.
The last star had hardly been extinguished when the camp was astir. Among the first to rise, Ru observed that gigantic figure which he loathed above all others. He noticed apprehensively that Grumgra appeared unusually cheerful this morning, and that, accompanied by two or three of his henchmen, he set off toward the woods with a jauntiness which bespoke no good design.
It was two or three hours later when Grumgra returned. His arrival created a consternation equaled only by that which Ru had caused the day before. Wading through the shallow water near the river bank, he and his helpers were pulling a raft similar to that which Ru had made! Similar, but not quite the same, for it was longer and the logs were thicker, which made it more impressive and also more unwieldy; and the vines and creepers that bound it were fastened in two places instead of in four.
Mounting the bank, the Growling Wolf stood regarding his handiwork with every sign of pleasure, while the vociferous multitude pressed close to see. "Grumgra's magic is better than Ru's!" they cried, jubilantly. "The river-god does great deeds for Grumgra! He has made a bigger wonder than Ru can make!" And many were the exclamations of awe and admiration at the cleverness of Grumgra.
"Now I will show what big lies the Sparrow-Hearted tells! Kimo the Hairy Mammoth, you walk upon the waters!" ordered the chieftain, pointing to the bulky form of the chosen one, who stood cowering in the rear.
Urged by his companions, Kimo came slowly forward, although his knees seemed unsteady beneath him, and terror shone from his eyes.
"Take this club," Grumgra continued, thrusting the long, straight limb of a dead tree into Kimo's hand. "Take it, and push yourself to the middle of the river! It is very easy—even the Sparrow-Hearted can do it!"
But, at the crucial moment, the Hairy Mammoth stood hesitating, and casting desirous eyes toward the forest. Had not strong arms restrained him, he might have been tempted to make a dash for liberty and life. "O chief," he pleaded, "the river-god wants to take me. I cannot swim farther than a strong man can jump. Let some other—"
But Grumgra's club was raised like a challenge, and a foreboding scowl came across the chieftain's face.
Understanding the strength of this argument, the unlucky one stepped toward the waiting logs.
In the moment that elapsed before he had mounted the raft, the throng was startled by an unexpected voice.
"Anger the river-god, and he will strike you down!" came the warning of Ru, whose clear tones rang with the courage of desperation. "Terrible is the punishment of the river-god!"
There was a moment's silence; several of the people shuddered; Kimo again glanced longingly toward the inaccessible woods. But in an instant there came the deep reassuring voice of Grumgra. "What is this the Sparrow-Hearted says? Who would be stopped by the Sparrow-Hearted? He speaks only empty words! And he who speaks empty words shall be punished! Go, Kimo! Go out and walk upon the waters!"
Still trembling, Kimo stepped into the water, and hauled himself clumsily onto the raft. Then, standing with one leg planted on each log, he began to push his pole awkwardly and yet powerfully against the river bottom. And the raft, responsive, slid slowly out into the waters!
Eagerly the people crowded forward to see, until, in the excitement, not a few were shoved into the river. But no one seemed to notice; all eyes were fixed upon the retreating figure. And Kimo, finding himself perched safely upon the raft, appeared to regain confidence; he began to push and paddle as if accustomed to manipulating rafts all his life; and once or twice he even paused to wave to his gaping tribespeople.
Farther and farther into the waters he propelled himself; farther and farther, until a stone thrown by the strongest man could not have reached him; farther and farther, until he became but a vague and minute black blur, with features no longer distinguishable, with voice scarcely audible even when he shouted. Now he was approaching the middle of the river, and the current was carrying him slightly down-stream, yet he still struggled toward the opposite bank; now the head of his raft was buffeted and turned by the waters, and he was straining to keep it straight; now he seemed actually past the middle, seemed actually to be drawing near the land beyond—when suddenly he was to be seen no more.
There was a splash, a far-off, quickly muffled scream—and two logs, bound together at one end but disentangled at the other, were floating haphazard down the current. From just behind the logs came a series of small splashes; then a hoarse cry, then another hoarse cry, like a half-stifled call for help; then still feebler splashes; then suddenly only silence, and the undisturbed wide current, and the two logs drifting slowly down-stream.
The people gaped in amazement. For a moment they did not seem to understand what had happened; then, as realization gradually came to them, they uttered low cries of fear and horror. Their glaring eyes were shocked and frightened; and first one and then another began to pray to the river-god, until all had joined in a distracted chorus, and there burst forth a tumult of pleas and groans and mutterings to the god of the waters not to punish them for their daring, and not to believe that they would willingly do him wrong.