CHAPTER XXIII
The following day passed without event. The beast-men remained encamped near the river within plain view of the cave entrance, and still showed no inclination to leave; but neither did they seem disposed to launch another attack. Meanwhile the Umbaddu held carefully to their safe rocky fastnesses, and never once did any tribesman descend within a stone's throw of the enemy. So far as any observer might have judged, the contest was developing into a perpetual deadlock.
But although the day witnessed not so much as a hint of action, yet the approach of evening was the signal for unusual agitation within the cave. Men and women were bustling about in a thousand directions on a thousand eager errands; some were busily sharpening flint implements, some affectionately smoothing the edges of their clubs; some were fastening pouches of pebbles in convenient positions on their deerskin mantles; some were gustily eating, some industriously chattering, some merely pacing back and forth, back and forth in savage impatience; a few were praying silently to the gods of the woods and the fire, and one or two of the women were weeping; while over them all brooded an atmosphere of expectation, of apprehension, of hope tempered by a sense of impending peril and even of disaster.
The patch of light that marked the cave entrance had dwindled to the gray of twilight, and then been lost in the opaqueness of night before Grumgra, stalking out of the shadows with club portentously swinging, bellowed the signal that sent scores of hearts beating pell-mell. He looked unusually impressive this evening, with his circlet of wolf's fangs fastened conspicuously about his head and his wolfskin robe hideously black against his black form; and never had his people been quicker to make way before him and to murmur obedience to his orders.
"Are all of us here?" he began, eying his followers not without satisfaction. "Is every tribesman here?"
"I am here!" volunteered Woonoo the Hot-Blooded, striding forward ostentatiously.
"I am here!" echoed Kori the Running Deer.
"I am here!" chorused Targ the Thick Club, Kuff the Bear-Hunter, and Mumlo the Trail-Finder.
"Does anyone look for any tribesman, and not find him?" thundered Grumgra, scowling his severest.
There was an interval of confusion, while each man turned to search inquiringly among his neighbors. "Where is Karv the Leaping Stallion?" "Where is Zuno the Wily Fox?" "Where is Ugwung the Wolf-Faced?" came the voices of baffled seekers. But always, after an instant, there would be a reply, perhaps from across the cave, "Here am I, Ugwung the Wolf-Faced!" or, "Here he is, Zuno the Wily Fox!" And so, after some minutes' delay, the roll was completely called, and it was found that every man in the tribe was present—with only one exception.
"Where is Ru the Sparrow-Hearted?" shouted Grumgra, after the whereabouts of all the others had been established.
But there came no reply.
"No one knows where Ru is," Zunzun at length reported, with a malicious smile. "No one has seen him since two suns have set."
"Ru the Sparrow-Hearted does not act like a man!" grumbled the chieftain. "Truly, he is like a sparrow! He runs away when we need him most!"
"Ru runs away when we need him most!" echoed a score of angry voices.
"He will not be able to run away from my club!" growled Grumgra, half under his breath. "He will not be able to run away from my club—when I see him next!"
And the tribesmen turned to one another, and muttered, "Ru will not be able to run away from Grumgra's club!" Whereat some tittered gleefully, and from the lips of others came suppressed chuckles.
But their merriment was interrupted by the voice of Zunzun the Marvel-Worker, who began solemnly to invoke the fire-god, entreating victory for his kinsmen in the hazardous undertaking of the night. And straightway the people forgot all about Ru and joined fervently in the prayers, crying out their hopes and their terror in tones so loud that the fire-god must certainly have heard.
Having duly summoned that powerful deity to their aid, the men began to follow Grumgra in a slow, cautious procession toward the cave entrance. All wielded their clubs as if to do instant execution upon the foe; many muttered audibly their defiance of the beast-men. But as that grim-faced, straggling band filed from the firelit cavern into the outer darkness, the murmurings of the men were almost drowned out by the lamentations of the women. "May the good spirits of the cave be with you! May you eat out the hearts of the beast-men!" cried the wives and mothers of the tribe; and many, flinging their arms about the shoulders of the departing males, screamed and wailed as though thus to detain the bold ones, until in the end their hands had to be disengaged by sheer force and they were left to voice their sorrow to their sorrowing sisters. At the same time some of the younger women, more given to action than to words, seized clubs and quietly trailed in the wake of the men.
It was a silent, crawling party of marauders that descended the face of the cliff by the light of the half-moon. With snail-like patience and slowness, the men and women moved through the night; with infinite caution they crept from rock to rock, guided more by the sense of feeling than of sight. Each warrior could dimly distinguish above him the shadowy form of the next in line; each warrior could see below him a warily retreating figure that sometimes lay flat against the rocks, sometimes seemed to mingle with the vague ledge and to vanish, and sometimes did vanish to reappear again around the windings of the precipitous trail. Not a voice could be heard in that ghostly darkness, though now and then the stillness was broken by a pebble which, dislodged by chance, went plunging below with unearthly rattling and clatter.
Down and down, on a common impulse that had no need of words, that stealthy procession continued; down and down, with the alertness of mountain-sheep and the caution of prowling cats. When at times they paused and the apprehensive eyes wandered away from the rocks close at hand, the vision of all was fastened upon a glowing red, wavering patch beneath, from which the golden sparks darted and flashed....
At length, after a period impossible to compute, the first of the band reached the flat, open space at the base of the cliff. And there, without a word, he waited, while one by one his companions took their places at his side. Many minutes went by, and each moment the party silently grew, until scores of dim figures stood motionless in the moonlight. But it was long before Grumgra, convinced that the last of his followers had joined him, lifted his club in token of command, and, still speechless, started along the river bank in the direction of the crimson flames.
If the progress of the party had been by inches before, it was now hardly by half-inches. Crouching low beside the river, the warriors worked their way at a worm's rate among the rocks and through the underbrush, cautious not to disturb a pebble or rustle a leaf. At the distance of a dozen paces, one could have seen little more than a succession of vague shapes drifting phantomlike through the darkness....
After a few minutes, the foremost of the raiders emerged from a clump of bushes into a boulder-strewn open space. Directly across from him, the red fires flashed and beamed, brighter and more vigorous than before, with angry leaping tongues of flame that illuminated dimly the ragged rim of the woods. With the exception of an occasional jutting rock, there was no obstacle between. The men now stretched themselves full-length upon the ground, and, still clutching their clubs, began to creep with serpent-like contortions and convolutions toward the intended prey. As they made their painfully slow progress, sometimes dragging their hairy bodies through patches of mire and sometimes tearing and scratching themselves on the sharp stones, they caught occasional glimpses of a huge squat form indistinctly outlined against the fire—a huge squat form brandishing a gigantic club and shuffling slowly back and forth after the manner of a sentinel.
As yet, no other living thing was to be seen; but as the marauders drew near, the sound of heavy breathing became audible, a stertorous breathing that seemed to issue not from one source but from a hundred. And the prowling ones realized that, strewn somewhere around the fire, among the rocks and near the borders of the wood, their enemies lay in unsuspecting sleep.
It was at about this time that one of the beast-men—he who had been observed stalking like a sentry near the fire—seemed to become vaguely aware of danger. He was not quite sure; but he ceased to shamble back and forth and stood rooted in silence to one spot, his eyes fastened intently before him. From among the confusion of shadows, he thought he beheld one shadow that had not been there before—a creeping shadow that glided slowly, slowly toward him. But when he paused to stare at it, the shadow ceased to move—was it really there at all? or was it but some fancy that the bad spirits of the woods had put into his mind? Perhaps it was only the moonlight shedding a pale reflection on the rocks; perhaps merely one of the boulders he had not observed before. Minutes went by, and still nothing stirred—the world seemed empty except for the wilderness of rocks, the faintly shining river, the ragged line of the cliffs and the still more ragged line of the woods, with the yellow half-moon poised in the emptiness above.
Yet to that lonely watcher came the thought that living shapes were abroad in the darkness. The suspicious shadow had not ceased to disturb him, although it was now still and innocent-looking enough. At last, tentatively and with the caution of the prowling panther, he began to glide forward, inch by inch, his club held defensively before him. He had not more than five or six yards to cover, yet many slow seconds dragged by while he crawled through the flickering gloom. Still all lay unmoving and calm; the shadow had not stirred but lay before him, dark and irregular in contour as any boulder.
Straining his eyes in a blackness that told him nothing, the sentry suddenly reached out his club and prodded the doubtful shadow. Simultaneously, a terrified scream started from his lips—the object was soft and yielding before his touch!
As the startled beast-man leaped back, a huge form sprang up from amid the shadows; and through the darkness a huge club swung. And the beast-man's scream gave place to a moan, agonized and swiftly passing; and the great shape slumped to earth, and stirred no more.
Then all at once the gloom was peopled. A hundred figures darted forward, with long clubs swinging; and, at the same time, pandemonium burst forth from the obscure depths behind the fire. A chorus of screams, responsive to the screams of the stricken one, pierced the stillness of the night; then came a tumult of voices crying out in bewilderment, terror, and rage.
The Umbaddu plunged to the attack
The Umbaddu plunged to the attack
The Umbaddu plunged to the attack
Blending with that tumult, and almost drowning it out, there sounded the exultant shrieks and howls of the marauders. Hooting and wailing in a din as of charging demons, the Umbaddu plunged to the attack. Straight toward the camp-fire they rushed in a roaring mob, while their clubs, wildly swinging, dashed out the brains of many a startled foe. Then, fiendishly yelling with the joy of triumph, they started pell-mell toward the shadows behind the fire, where the surging figures were gathering in a turbulent swarm.
Now all was blurred amid the confusion of battle. One could have seen little more than a jumble of tempestuously swaying forms; one could have heard little more than an uproar as of fighting beasts. In that deafening racket, one might have distinguished at times the crash of club on club, at times the groans and whines of the wounded, the sighs and moanings of the dying; one might have made out growls and snarls of challenge, snortings of defiance, squeals and bawlings of terror, bellowings and thunders of rage; but one could not have told whether defenders or assailants clamored the louder, or which was defender and which assailant amid that phantasmagoria of stormy, furiously swaying shadows.
In darkness the battle was fought out—in darkness or semidarkness, for the fire cast a weird, variable half-light upon the nearer contestants, showing here two writhing figures clasped in a smothering grip, and there two stooping forms confronting one another watchfully with lifted clubs; while beyond, where even the half-light could not penetrate and utter blackness began, the hissing and muttering and screeching and shrieking of savage-voiced combatants gave proof of a contest that no eye could see.
As the conflict proceeded, and the noise and confusion grew and grew, the fire, untended, sank constantly lower and lower; the pale rim of the light constantly narrowed; and the moon, sliding behind a cloud, threatened to leave the scene in total gloom.
It was at about this point that the battle took a decisive turn. One of the fighters, on an impulse that no one ever explained, snatched a burning brand from the still-glowing fire; and wielding the flaming weapon, went dashing headlong toward the enemy. All, both friend and foe, gaped in terror and fled before this fire-swinging apparition; and for a few minutes he darted unchallenged wherever he would, while at his approach great shaggy forms went crashing right and left into the brush. Then, when the brand had burned low, the bold one thrust the still-flaming remains into the shrubbery, and went slouching away in search of other weapons.
Without knowing it, he had made the end imminent. Through his unwitting intervention, the culmination was to be sudden beyond all expectations.
Almost without warning, the darkness was overspread by an unearthly yellow illumination; and a row of bushes along the river bank burst into bright flame. The nearer fighters turned and gazed in consternation, muttering to themselves and staring like men whom the power of action has deserted. And while, stupidly bewildered, they gaped and gaped, the fire leaped higher and higher, till it was taller than a tall man, and the sparks flew like meteors, and glowing spirals of smoke soared to the skies. Then, as the screams of battle gave place to screams of terror, and fresh combatants forgot their clubs and crowded close to see, the blazes spread and spread, till in places they filled the cañon from the river to the cliff.
Encouraged by a rising breeze, they sprang from the shrubbery to the overhanging branches of the pine trees, which began to burn and sparkle gustily. And enormous flames, greater than any of the fighters had ever seen before, began to roar and crackle among the trees. The bright streamers leaped far heavenward, licking their greedy lips rabidly; with amazing rapidity they grew, even vaulting across the river, until from cañon wall to cañon wall there was a glaring, brassy-yellow, wavering bank of fire, which cast an unearthly, sultry illumination over the black knots of watching men. The air was filled with the acrid odor of smoke; great black cinders darted through the gloom; and high above the flames, where the red sparks vanished, all the heavens were discolored with an angry crimson glow.
Now, above the sizzling laughter and the howling of the conflagration, there arose the voices of men in mortal agony. All thought of the fight had been forgotten; each was bent only on saving himself. Some, trapped in pockets of the woods, shrieked and yelled in futile anguish before they gasped their last; others, with hair shriveling beneath the intense heat, cried out furiously and dashed for refuge into the river. "The fire-god! The fire-god! The fire-god comes to kill us!" wailed the panic-stricken Umbaddu; and mingled with their voices were the still ruder, more blatant ones of the beast-men. But friend knew not friend, and foe knew not foe, in that clamorous dash for the safe, cool waters. Side by side the combatants crept into the stream, side by side without so much as a hostile snort; and, once within the river, no man had any thought except to stand submerged with nostrils barely above the surface.
And while the survivors felt the refreshing waters roll over them, the hissing and roaring of the fire gradually grew less distinct, its heat a little less unbearable, its illumination dimmer and more remote. When at last the less timorous ventured out of the river, they beheld that same ghastly red glow reaching high in air and far along the horizon; but they could no longer see the shooting tongues of flame, and they knew that the fire-god had withdrawn and that it was safe to seek their people once more.
The following morning, in the cave of the Umbaddu, there was much weeping and wailing. Distracted women paced back and forth with prolonged sobs and lamentations; some tore furiously at the hair on their arms and chests; some beat themselves insanely upon the legs and thighs; some merely lay in a corner, moaning and moaning. As the survivors of the night's encounter trailed one by one up the cliff walls and back into the cave, it became apparent that the tribe's losses had been irreparable. The misfortune was not that those who came back were much bedraggled or disabled; that Kuff the Bear-Hunter limped grievously, while Woonoo the Hot-Blooded dangled a broken arm; that the throat and shoulders of Mumlo the Trail-Finder showed the red mark of teeth, while half the hair of Grumgra's back had been singed away—such injuries were of minor account. The real misfortune was that, of those who had gone forth the night before, nearly half had not returned. "Where is Targ the Thick Club? Where is Gurr the Stone-Flinger? Where is Ulu the Long-Armed?" rang forth the despairing cries of searching women—but none was ever to bring an answer to their appeals.
Most disturbing of all was the absence of one who had been thought immune to danger. "Zunzun the Marvel-Worker—where is he?" cried scores of anxious voices. But there came no reply; and the people groaned that their gods had indeed deserted them, for all the arts of Zunzun had not sufficed to save him from the beast-men.