CHAPTER XV
The disastrous failure of Kimo the Hairy Mammoth had more than one interesting sequel for Ru.
Not least important was the change it marked in his relations with Yonyo. Only a few hours after Kimo's fatal effort at navigation, Ru encountered Yonyo at the edge of the meadow where the tribe was still encamped. She was obviously glad to see him; her sharp black eyes shone with pleasure; her broad dark face grew bright with sudden smiles.
"Ru, you have done wonders!" she commended him. "Only you are loved by the river-god! No other can do as you do! No, not one—"
Here she stopped suddenly short, for the look in his face was not reassuring.
For a moment he stood staring at her as a man might stare at the foe he is about to throttle. His nostrils were dilated; his breath came fast; his fingers were clenched significantly about his club.
"Ru, what evil spirit has entered you?" she cried, in alarm.
But her words seemed only to provide the spur he required. With an inchoate growl, he strode suddenly forward; and his club, clenched more tightly than ever, was uplifted as if to strike.
Yonyo screamed, and darted away. Too often had she seen women struck—too often not to believe Ru in earnest. Without even a backward glance to see if she were pursued, she raced all the way back to her tribespeople.
With a black scowl, Ru stood staring after her. He did not know whether he would actually have hit her; he only knew that a blow would have been small repayment for all she had made him suffer. And, strange to say, a feeling of self-satisfaction, almost of exultation, came over him as he watched her flee; he felt strong with a strength he had never known before; he was almost ready to swagger with triumph, for now at last he, the Sparrow-Hearted, was acting as a man should act!
It did not even occur to him to wonder whether, by his wrath, he might not have alienated Yonyo altogether. At the moment, he did not care. Moreover, had he not often watched beaten women come cringing back to their men?
But before the issue between him and the Smiling-Eyed could be decided, he was confronted with a second result of Kimo's unhappy experiment.
On the evening of the following day, Ru was surprised to find himself again the center of attraction before the tribal camp-fire. It was a time of general complaining and gloom, for another hunt had just been held in order to replenish the tribe's dwindling larder; and the hunters had suffered more heavily than the hunted, for while one small deer had been brought down, two of the men had succumbed before the charge of an infuriated woolly rhinoceros.
Among the women there were lamentations, and among the children cries of hunger, as the tribe engaged in its meager repast of roots and berries seasoned with just a sprinkling of meat. The only exception occurred in the case of Grumgra, who feasted abundantly on the day's catch of venison.
But Grumgra's right to a major part of the supplies was taken as a part of the necessary order of things, and occasioned no comment; and it had nothing to do with the cries of discontent that shrilled from all sides, "What are we to do? What is to become of us, what is to become of us?" mourned some of the more dismal-minded folk; and many were the complaints that they had left the safety of their cave behind them, and many the prayers to the fire-god, the wind-god, and the gods of the woods and waters.
Seldom had Ru seen his people in so despondent a mood. Here, sprawled in the long grass before the fire, a three-year-old was wailing, or a scrawny infant screaming for food its mother could not give it; yonder an old man mumbled and muttered about the plenty he had known in the old days; a little farther on, a haggard group sat chattering, with occasional groans and sighs audible to the entire assemblage; and now and then, from any corner of the encampment, there would come a series of growls and frightful snarls, when some man would snatch at a bone being chewed by his neighbor, and the two would fight like famished dogs. But no one paid any heed to such scuffles, nor to the lamentations of his neighbors; and the firelight, leaping and wavering like some menacing giant, illuminated only sullen apelike faces, and heavy brows contorted in dreary scowls, and lips that grumbled, and eyes that spoke in silent complaint.
"Grumgra, come help us!" pleaded many a voice that had tired of vainly invoking the gods of fire, water, and air. "Grumgra, come tell us what to do! Shall we not go back to our cave? If we stay here we shall starve, and our children will die; and soon there will be only our bones to be picked by the vulture and the hyena."
At first Grumgra made only brusk answer to these appeals. "Zunzun the Marvel-Worker will help you!" he snapped. And Zunzun, coming unwillingly to the rescue, took his place before the fire. With his most eloquent gesticulations, he begged and implored the god of the flames to rescue his people; but even after he had worked himself into a frenzy and puffed and sweated profusely, there was no sign that the god had heard him.
Then, with unheard-of temerity, one of the men began to shout: "We do not need the fire-god! We need the river-god!" And Zunzun, although apparently he had had enough of magic for one evening, was compelled to execute a series of new incantations addressed to the god of the waters.
After he had finished, and while a few of his followers still chanted the prayers devoutly, Zunzun was seen to approach Grumgra as if on secret business. For some minutes the two of them sat in a group apart, talking eagerly in low tones and lifting their clubs threateningly whenever anyone ventured too close.
At length Grumgra sprang up decisively, and stalked energetically toward the fire. "My people, I must have speech with you!" he declared, in his usual bellow.
A murmur of excitement trembled through the assemblage, and all drew close to hear.
"We must all go away from here very soon," he announced, after a moment's pause. "The land of the noonday sun still lies before us; and the river must not stop us, for if we stay here, we will all starve. Is it not so, my people?"
A chorus of groans and sighs signified the agreement of the tribe.
"But how shall we cross the river?" Grumgra continued. "The river-god must show us the way—and there is only one of us that the river-god loves. That one is Ru the Sparrow-Hearted. We must ask Ru to speak to the river-god, so that we may go across. Tell us, Sparrow-Hearted, will you speak to the river-god?"
And the chieftain lifted the club high above his head, as if to indicate that a refusal on Ru's part would be summarily treated.
Rising from where he sat among the shadows to the rear, Ru strode forward until the firelight was full upon him.
"I will speak to the river-god," he began, while scores of serious little eyes, burning with a new eagerness, were fixed intently upon his slender form. "If you will do all that I tell you, I will find out how to take you across the river. But if you will not do as I tell you, the river-god will devour you! You remember what he did to Kimo the Hairy Mammoth, do you not, my people?"
Grumbled exclamations of fear and horror signified that the people had not forgotten.
"I am the only one that can speak to the river-god," Ru continued, severely. "I know a magic that will save you. But if I use that magic, what will you do for me?"
Ru paused; a hard glitter came into his eyes. "If I use that magic, what will you do for me?" he repeated, with the manner of one that strikes a shrewd bargain.
"What do you want us to do for you?" growled Grumgra, his thick lips twisting into a snarl. "There is nothing we can give. Would you have us throw you the meat we have not?"
"It is not meat I ask!" flung back Ru. "It is something I like better than meat!"
Scores of eyes were fixed upon him in uncomprehending amazement, while earnestly he continued: "For a long, long time, my people, you have not treated me as a brother should be treated. You have said bad things against me, and struck me with sticks and stones, and burned me with fire; and there has been evil laughter in your eyes when you did not understand the things I did. And deep within me there has been a great pain; but you could not see it or know it was there. If I help you, should you not try to take that pain away? Should you not show me that you will treat me as a brother?"
"How can we show you?" grumbled the chieftain, fumbling with his club impatiently. "You ask that which no man can do!"
"I ask that which every man can do!" insisted Ru. "Always you have called me by a name which does not belong to me, and which I do not like. Take that name away, and call me by my right name—and I will ask the river-god to do great things for you. If not—" Here Ru paused, as if to indicate that, unless his request were granted, the gods would avenge him.
"And what does the Sparrow-Hearted want to be called?" sneered Grumgra.
"The Eagle-Hearted!" replied Ru, without an instant's hesitation.
A little murmur of surprise ran through the assemblage.
"The Sparrow-Hearted cannot become the Eagle-Hearted just because he asks it!" thundered the Growling Wolf, glowering menacingly.
"And our people cannot cross the river just because they ask it!" countered Ru, retreating far enough to escape the swinging club.
"Call him the Eagle-Hearted, the Eagle-Hearted, the Eagle-Hearted! Only let him do as we want!" came a multitude of shouting voices.
Grumgra stood hesitating; it was easy to see that public sentiment was against him.
"What matter what we call him? Only let him take us across the river!" cried Zunzun the Marvel-Worker. "The Eagle-Hearted let it be!"
"Take us across the river, and you shall be Ru the Eagle-Hearted!" pronounced Grumgra, for once without his usual assurance.
And Ru, with an acquiescent smile, assured his people that they should not have long to wait before crossing the waters.
Early the following morning, Ru was observed to go gliding away into the woods. Toward noon he returned, but not directly from the woods; once more he astonished his people by "walking on the waters." Borne on a raft similar to that on which he had made his spectacular appearance a few days before, he first drifted slowly down-stream, then vigorously propelled himself landward; and, drawing his new creation to the bank by the side of the original craft, he paid no heed to the murmurs and exclamations of the watching throng, but burst at once into fervent prayer.
"O river-god," he cried, "I thank you for making me your friend and doing wonderful things for me. Take care of my people, as you have taken care of me; let them cross your waters, as you have let me cross; show them the way to the land of the noonday sun!"
Having uttered these words, Ru flung himself down on the ground, and began to mutter incoherently. No one could make out what he said; but the spectators gaped wide-eyed; and perplexity and fear were in their looks.
Suddenly breaking short his unintelligible mumblings, Ru leaped to his feet, and spoke in loud, clear tones: "My people, I have been talking with the river-god. Do you wish to know what he has told me?"
A loud-voiced chorus signified that the people did wish to know.
"He says that you may all cross the waters if you will let me show you how," Ru assured them. "But if you do not do as I tell you, the god will put an evil spell upon you all!"
"We will do as you tell us! We will do as you tell us!" the people avowed.
"First you must wear a charm," Ru continued—and in his gray eyes, as he spoke, was a sly twinkle, which no one appeared to observe. "You must each take a pebble from the river bank and tie it to you, so that the god may know who you are and use his magic for you."
Very solemnly every man, woman, and child—from Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed to Zunzun and the stern-browed Grumgra—reached down and selected a pebble, which they slowly and clumsily attached to their garments by means of strips of hide and the fibers of plants.
Following this ceremony, Ru again muttered a few meaningless phrases; then, having done everything necessary to propitiate the god, he declared: "Now I will show you how to cross the river. Who wants to be the first to find out how?"
A frightened silence greeted these words.
"Kori the Running Deer, you go with the Sparrow-Hearted," designated Grumgra.
"My name is the Eagle-Hearted!" corrected Ru, scowling a black scowl.
"The Eagle-Hearted," acknowledged Grumgra, also scowling.
Kori the Running Deer came slowly forward. He was an especially slender and wiry-looking tribesman; his muscles were stout and powerful, yet he had not the ox-like build of most of the Umbaddu.
He seemed to realize at once the uselessness of protest. "Tell me what to do, Ru, and I will try to do it," he declared, as he stopped within arm's length of the raft. And though his small black eyes showed more than a trace of fear, his limbs did not waver and his voice did not shake.
"Do as I do—and only that," directed Ru. And he climbed onto the farther end of the raft, and motioned Kori to take his place at the opposite extremity.
"Now push with your club," Ru ordered, after Kori had stationed himself on the raft. "And move it the way I move mine."
Whereat he gave a powerful shove, and Kori followed with another shove not less powerful. And the raft slipped away from the bank out into the wilderness of the waters!
Once again the people murmured in admiration and surprise; once again there were cries of wonder at the magic of Ru. And all eyes were riveted upon that little craft which made its way slowly, slowly out toward the center of the stream.
Loud was the splashing of the waters as Ru and Kori pushed and pushed with their clubs; and still louder the excitement of the people as the two tribesmen made their difficult headway. At times, to be sure, they made no headway at all, but would paddle in opposing directions, and the raft would merely swing round and round; at other times they seemed to be drifting backward, and once Kori lost his balance and fell into the river, but, with Ru's help, quickly recovered himself. Yet, with all their awkwardness, they did make some progress; and, as they advanced, their movements seemed to become slightly more efficient and assured. At length they had reached the middle of the river, at length had gone beyond the middle, and, dwindling each to a slender black line, were approaching the opposite bank. Smaller and smaller they grew, until they had disappeared entirely behind a projection of land and not even a speck remained to mar the slow-moving, muddy brown expanse of the waters.
Impatiently the people waited; the air rang with their disappointment and forebodings. Could it be that their tribesmen had vanished not to return? Could it be that the river-god had been angered after all, and had devoured Kori and Ru even as he had devoured Kimo the Hairy Mammoth? A period that seemed interminable went by; many a voice cried out in apprehension, and many a prayer was murmured by frightened lips. Then suddenly there came a shout of relief; then a great roar of applause—the missing ones were returning!
But were they returning? Only one slender form was to be seen against the vague vastness of the waters. Had Kori too gone the way of the Hairy Mammoth? Horror and dismay glared from the eyes of the people as they stood muttering and waiting, muttering and waiting, while that single figure gradually drew toward them, until at last the tribesfolk knew that it was Ru coming back.
"Where is Kori?" they cried, tumultuously. "Where is he? Where is he? Where is the Running Deer?" And from one corner of the crowd there sounded the sudden wailing of a woman.
Many minutes passed, and still their doubts remained. Not until Ru had drawn his raft up to the bank and alighted did he attempt to answer the stormy questions of the throng.
"Kori is waiting on the other side," he explained. "Who wants to go next?"
No one appeared anxious for the privilege. "Targ the Thick Club, you go now with Ru!" Grumgra had to command, before another candidate could be found, and Ru undertook to ferry his second passenger across the river.