Part 2

Up on the hill-side, at the edge of the forest, where the ground had been partly cleared, was the place of the first summer camp. The summer huts were built above ground, of branches of trees, wattled with withies and twigs, and daubed with clay. Sometimes a man had only to repair the hut that he had lived in the summer before. But even if he had to build a new one, it was not such hard work as to build a winter hut. Before a man began to build his summer hut, he picked out a tree with a straight trunk to act as the main support of his hut. He used the tree as a centre pillar to hold up his roof-beams. If he built his summer hut in the open, away from the trees, he set up a pole for a roof-tree. We still talk of living under our own roof-tree, just as those people did long ago.

The fireplaces were made out-of-doors. If they had been indoors, the huts would often have been burned down. Probably they often were burned down even then. So whatever cooking Tig’s mother wanted to do in the summer camps she did at a big fire outside the huts.

The winter village of dug-out huts was high up on the hillside at the upper end of a sheltered valley, and the summer camps were set up at different places upon the hills, as the people moved about with their cattle; and wherever they were, they always put up a stockade of posts around the huts, to keep themselves and their cattle safe from wolves and bears.

But besides their dwelling-places, the people had a fort, which was meant to be used only in time of war for the tribe to retire to, if their enemies should attack them. It was built at the top of a high hill, in the form of a ring, with a mound of earth and stones, and a stockade all round, and a deep ditch outside. The fort was big enough to take in all the people and their cattle in case of necessity; but when Tig was a baby, it had not been used for a long time and nobody lived in it.

_Chapter the Third_

_Tig’s Mother, and the Lessons that she taught him_

TIG’S mother was called Gofa. She was the mistress of the house and the housekeeper. She did not keep any servants, but did the work herself; she minded Tig and his little brothers and sisters, and cooked their meals and made clothes for Garff and all the family. Their clothes were mostly made of skins, and Gofa always prepared the skins for the clothes with her own hands. To make a suit out of a deerskin was a long business. The hide had to be dried in the open air, and then scraped all over with flint scrapers until all the hair was taken off. Then it was smeared with the animal’s brains and fat, and allowed to dry again; and then thoroughly washed in wooden tubs and tanned with the bark of oak-trees. When at last it was cured and dried, it was cut into pieces and the pieces sewn together with sinews. Gofa’s needles were made of bone, and they were not very sharp: she used to pierce holes in the leather with a little bodkin made of flint stone before she could put in the stitches. But once the stitches were made, they held firmer than any that are sewn with thread.

Whenever a deer was brought home or a cow killed, Gofa always kept the big sinews from the legs and dried them in the sun or under the roof of the hut indoors.

Then she took a flint knife and scraped the sinew and shredded it into threads, and drew the threads separately through her fingers, and put them away in a pouch made of deer-skin. This was her store of thread.

The suit that most people wore was a sark; it was a sort of shirt which came down to the knees, and was girded with a belt at the waist. This was generally made of dressed hide; but almost every one had besides a thicker dress for cold weather, with the hair left on; and the richer people had these trimmed with different sorts of fur. Some wore cloaks besides, and caps made of skin with the hair on.

When the men went hunting they wore shoes made of hide, and leather bands wrapped round their legs for leggings. The people let their hair grow long; and they often used to spend much time combing and dressing it.

Most people, unless they were very poor, had also finer garments of cloth, which the women span and wove. But cloth was much scarcer than skins, besides being more easily worn out; and so the clothes for everyday wear were always of dressed hides. Men who spent a great part of their time hunting and creeping about in the thickets of the forest, wanted a suit which would turn the wet and not tear easily among the thorns and briars.

Tig had his first little sark and belt when he was seven years old--it was made of deer-skin; but he had neither cap nor leggings; for, like all the other children, he used to run about barefoot and bareheaded.

Gofa taught her children many things, but she did not teach them to read or to write: she could neither read nor write herself, nor could any of her neighbours.

People had no books and no writing in those times. Tig did not learn to do sums or to say the Multiplication Table; but he did learn to count, by saying the numbers on his fingers. However, as it is such a long time since he lived, and as no one ever wrote down exactly how people counted in those days, Tig’s names for the figures are not known for certain. But it is very likely that they were something like this. On the fingers of one hand, instead of One, Two, Three, Four, Five, he said what sounded like

_Ahn_, _Da_, _Tree_, _Kethra_, _Kweeg_:

and then on the fingers of the other hand,

_Say_, _Sect_, _Oct_, _Noi_, _Dec_,

for Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten; and that was as far as he got in the way of counting at first.

But there were many things that Tig learned from his mother out-of-doors; for Gofa used to do a great deal of work with the other women, preparing the ground for corn and reaping the crops at harvest time; and Tig used to go with his mother to the fields, or to the river when she went to cut osiers for making baskets, or into the woods to gather firewood. He learned to be always on the look-out; always to listen for every sound--even so little a noise as the snapping of a twig; and always to bear in mind what he was going to do in case of sudden danger, and where he should run to for safety if he had to flee from a wild beast. Tig did not know many things that most boys and girls know in these times; but he could do one thing that hardly any boy or girl can do nowadays--he could move his ears backward and forward just as he wished, when he was listening very carefully to any slight sound in the woods.

Tig liked the summer-time best. It was much better fun playing in the forest near the huts and lying basking in the hot sun than crawling about in the dark, smoky winter pit-hut. He used to climb about in the trees, even when he was quite little. While his mother was busy with her work out-of-doors, she used to put him up into a tree and let him play about among the branches by himself; and sometimes she even made a sort of little crib for him with bands of hide, and left him to sleep safe and sound in a big oak tree. This was to keep him out of danger from wild animals. For in those days it was dangerous for children to be out in the open or in the woods away from the huts, because there were often wolves or other savage beasts prowling about.

But round Tig’s home there was less danger, because the wild beasts had learned to fear men and their weapons and their fires. But still, wolves and bears were seen sometimes close to the village; so the children were safer playing up in the trees than on the ground; and they all learned to be very good climbers.

From the boys with whom he played, when he grew older, Tig learned many other useful things. He learned to swing himself down from one branch of a tree to a lower branch, and catch hold with his feet; to dive without splashing, and swim under water right across to the opposite bank of the river; to save his breath when running, so as to last out on a long race. He and the other boys practised shooting with bows and arrows, which their fathers helped them to make. And they had stone-throwing matches, too; and no one was considered to be any good unless he could throw hard and straight with both hands. Tig and his friends all longed to become hunters, and their favourite game was to play at hunting; and as they grew older, they used to go out in parties into the woods to hunt and fish. But they did not often bring home any game.

_Chapter the Fourth_

_DICK AND HIS FRIENDS: The Hut that the Boys built_

AS soon as Uncle John had finished reading, he asked the boys if any of them could guess why Tig’s father’s winter hut was partly dug out of the ground.

Dick thought because of wild beasts; and Joe said: “Because it would be warmer underground.”

Uncle John said that those were very good reasons, but he thought the chief reason was that in those early times people could not build walls. They had no tools such as masons and carpenters have nowadays. They had no iron to make pickaxes and saws and planes with; they had only stone axes that were not much use for splitting or shaping beams. And so they had to live in houses not much better than foxes’ dens or rabbit-burrows.

They went to the heath next day, and looked at the pits again. Dick and Joe were talking about the pit-dwellings. Dick said they must have been very damp places to live in; but Joe said no--rabbits and foxes and badgers live in burrows underground, and their fur is always dry. They asked Uncle John’s opinion. He said that he thought in very wet weather the huts would be damp, because the rain would soak in through the roof. But as the village was on the top of the hill, no water would lie about the ground; and, anyway, the men probably dug trenches to carry off the water down the hill.

David said he thought the huts must have been very small; he wondered how the people managed to live in them.

“Yes,” said Uncle John, “they must have been small. But you see, the people who lived in them had no furniture, and they did not mind crowding. It is very likely, too, that they did not lie down full-length when they went to sleep. There was no room for that in the winter huts. They slept sitting, with their hands clasped over their feet and their chins on their knees. We should not find this a comfortable position to sleep in; but it was the way they were used to. And besides, if a man had tried lying at full length in one of these huts, he would soon have found his toes in the fire.

“Before the people learned how to build huts they lived in caves. Why was it better to live in huts than in caves?”

None of the boys could think of the answer, so Uncle John said:--“If a man could find a cave that was roomy and dry, it would be a pleasanter place to live in than a dug-out hut with a leaky roof. But if he wanted to live in a cave, he would have to go where the cave was; though if he could build a hut, he might live wherever he pleased. In the whole of a countryside there might not be more than two or three caves fit to live in, so that relations and friends could not live near to each other. But once men had learned to build huts, whole families could live together, and, what is more, they could build a wall or a stockade round the huts, as we have read. There is safety in numbers too, and in many ways it was much more comfortable for them than living scattered over the country in caves.”

The boys wished very much to build a hut. But as it was summer-time, they thought they had better try to build a summer hut. Besides, it would have been too big a piece of work to dig down four or five feet into the ground. They were a long time before they could find a place for their hut, because, as they said, they must pretend that it was not one hut that they were going to build, but a whole village of huts. They talked over with Uncle John the things that the people had in mind when choosing a site for a village. They decided that, no doubt, it must be on high ground, with a clear view of the country round about on every side, so that the dwellers in the village could see if their enemies were coming to attack them. Then they would be better able to defend themselves if they stood above their enemies, than if their enemies stood above them.

There was another reason for having the village up on the hill rather than down in the valley, and it was this. The valleys were thick with forests, in which were bears and wolves, so they were dangerous for men and cattle. But on the open hill-sides the cattle could be driven out to feed every day in safety; and if wolves came out of the forest, the men could see them in the open and keep them in check.

Joe said they must have water for the village, so they must be sure of being close to a stream or a spring.

Uncle John said that water was very necessary, of course; but that if you went to live on the top of a hill for safety you could not expect to have water in abundance, for there are no streams about the tops of hills, and not often springs. However, he said, the people managed to overcome this difficulty, as the book would tell.

David wanted to know about firewood; wouldn’t they need to be near the forest for that?

They certainly would want firewood, Uncle John said, and they must always depend on having to make many journeys to the forest to get wood. But the ground must be cleared and kept open round about the village, so that there might be pasture for the cattle and ground for growing corn and other crops.

At last the boys found a very good place. It was high up, beyond a grove of oak trees, and there was a little spring close by: they called the grove of oak trees the forest. They had not very good tools to work with. David had a big clasp-knife with a spring at the back, to prevent it shutting up on his hand, and Joe had a little hatchet that was not very sharp. But Dick wrote to his mother in London, and his father sent him a little axe like an Indian’s tomahawk.

It took them three days to build the hut. Although the trees were Uncle John’s, he could not let them cut down branches. But he let the woodman bring them some cut boughs from the wood-yard.

This was how they built the hut. They chose a young tree with a straight trunk. Around this they fixed the longest and straightest of their boughs upright in the ground. Then they cut smaller pieces of willow and birch and hazel, and laced them in and out of the uprights, until they had got a wattled wall all round, except between two of the uprights, where they left a space for the door-way. The roof they made by tying sticks across from the uprights to the centre tree, and lacing these with twigs and brushwood. Then they plastered the outside with clay and earth. They made a door, with two light poles for the sides and two shorter ones for the ends, tied cross-wise at the corners, and the whole interlaced, like the walls, with hazel shoots and willows.

When the hut was finished, they brought Uncle John to see it. The boys could all get inside quite comfortably by squeezing a little; but there was not room for Uncle John. So, as it was a very hot afternoon, they all sat outside under an oak tree, and read the next chapter from the brown book.

_Chapter the Fifth_

_THE STORY OF TIG: The Food Supplies_

TIG’S father, Garff, was one of the chief men of the village. He was very strong and a clever hunter, and the people used to look to him to take the lead in the big hunting expeditions. He was a rich man, too; but that does not mean that he had much money, because he had no money at all. Nobody had money in those times: they had cattle instead, and if a man had to pay a great deal to another man, he gave a cow or a bullock; but if he had to pay only a little, he gave a joint of meat, perhaps, or a skin or part of a skin, or a basket of nuts, or a jar of corn, or a piece of honeycomb.

Garff had a herd of about twenty small shaggy cows like Welsh cattle. They used to be driven out to feed on the pasture grounds on the hills in the daytime with other people’s cows, and some of the old men and boys with the dogs used to look after them. But at sunset the cowherds drove the cattle inside the stockade of the village for the night, to keep them safe from wild beasts; and then the women used to come out to milk the cows.

Garff used to spend most of his time hunting in the forest. Sometimes he went alone, and sometimes two or three of his neighbours went with him. They were not often away from home for more than a day or two. But now and then it happened that they had to follow the game far afield, and then they were absent for a longer time. They hunted the deer mostly; but sometimes they killed the great wild cattle and wild horses and boars. They shot birds, too, of all kinds, and caught fish in the lakes and streams. They used to bring home anything they could catch that would serve for food. Sometimes it happened that all the hunters were unlucky for many days, and meat became scarce. Then the killing of a bison or a wild horse was a great event. Everybody in the village came for a share of the meat, and either carried it home or made a fire and cooked it on the spot. The meat was eaten up to the very last morsel, and the people used even to smash the bones with pieces of stone to get the marrow.

When Tig was a boy, the flesh of wild game was the favourite food of most people, and it was generally the commonest and the most plentiful. But it is easy for us to understand that, as the people multiplied and spread about over the country, all kinds of wild game became scarcer. The more the animals were hunted, the more difficult it became to get them. So it was well that there were other things for food. In the autumn the people used to gather all the wild fruits they could get, and store them up for use in the winter--nuts and acorns and wild apples. There were other things, too, that could not be stored, such as pignuts and blackberries and other sorts of berries.

But the best food of all was corn, of which two kinds, wheat and barley, were grown. Corn was nicer and more wholesome than acorns, and much more useful, because, with care and good management, the stock could be increased; but of the wild fruits and nuts men could gather only what natural supply there might be.

Of their corn, the people made porridge and flat cakes of bread, first pouring the grain upon a flat stone and rubbing and grinding it with a long bar-shaped piece of stone, to make it mealy. Also they pounded their corn and acorns and nuts in mortars of wood or stone. This was the women’s work: and it might be said that the women were the millers and bakers, and even the butchers to the households in those days; for whenever the men brought home a deer or any other game, the women always came out to skin it and cut it up and to dress the meat for cooking.

The people used not always to have regular times for meals, as we have nowadays. They generally had a morning and an evening meal, but otherwise, while there was food, they ate when they were hungry, and only at the feast times did they eat together in company. Gofa generally used to make a bowl of porridge for breakfast, and for supper she cooked whatever game Garff had brought home with him; for Garff, as we have said, was a clever hunter, and could generally provide better food than roots and acorns for his family.

There were times, of course, when everybody had to go short. In some years, when the crops had been scanty, food became very scarce before the end of winter, and then the people used to suffer greatly from hunger. At such times, men used to hunt longer and more keenly than during the summer and autumn months; and if a boy could snare a hare or catch a hedgehog, or creep up along the bank of a pool where the wild ducks rested, and fling a couple of stones hard among them as they rose, he would be warmly welcomed at home when he took in his game.

Of course, when food became very scarce indeed, men killed their own cattle. But they did not do this so long as there was wild game to be got. Some men were not such skilful hunters as others; and so it sometimes happened that a man would have to kill all his cows, one after another, for food during the cold time, and a long winter would make many men poor. The women and children suffered terribly, and everybody got very thin. We sometimes say nowadays that the spring is a trying time to live through; but it was very much harder when there were no shops where food could be bought, all the year round alike.

The dogs had a bad time, too: and they used to scratch up buried bones and gnaw them over again, till they had gnawed away all the softer parts. Everybody longed for the summer and the time of plenty again; and there were always great rejoicings when the crops were ripe, and the time came to get in the harvest.

Before he was seven years old, Tig had learned in many ways to be useful to his mother. He used to go with her to the field and pull weeds out of the corn, or to the woods and help her to gather dry sticks and fir cones for fuel; and when she went to milk the cows, Tig went too and carried one of the milk jars; so he always earned his supper.

There was one thing Tig never tasted: he never had any kind of sweets. Of course he used to have honey at home, and he used to pick and eat all kinds of wild fruit, wild strawberries and raspberries and blackberries, but he never had sweets. There were not such things in those days. Nobody had sugar because it was not made then. Even salt, which is so common with us that you can buy as much as you can carry for sixpence, was very scarce among Tig’s people. The Medicine Men of the tribe always had some which they got from some other Medicine Men, who got it from some other Medicine Men who lived by the sea-shore. But they were not willing to part with it except in little pieces; and for a handful of salt a man would have to give something valuable in exchange.

_Chapter the Sixth_

_How Gofa sold some Meal to a Hungry Man_

ONE night, after the cold-time was over, Gofa and Tig and his little brother Ban and his little sister Fearna and Sona the baby were in the hut waiting for Garff to come home from hunting. Gofa was making porridge for supper, and Tig and Fearna and Ban were waiting to have theirs, for they were hungry. By this time Gofa’s store of corn was low, and she used to put a handful or two of pounded-up acorns with the corn-meal when she made porridge or bread.

Gofa was stirring the porridge when she heard a noise outside the hut. She jumped up and snatched a club and stood ready to strike if there should be an enemy at the door. Then she called out:

“Who is there?”

“It is I, Tosgy,” said a voice outside. So Gofa laid down the club and pushed aside the stone at the doorway, and then Tosgy crept into the hut. Tosgy was not a strong man like Garff. He had had his feet frost-bitten in the cold-time, and he could not run and so he could not hunt. The people called him Tosgy because he had big teeth.

“See,” he said, “I have brought you a beautiful fox-skin--a fine one, a rare, fine one; and I beg you give me some meal for it, a little meal for my children. It is now five days, nay, six days since we have eaten bread. We have had naught to eat but the green buds and leaves that we have plucked from the trees and boiled--and oh, but they are poor stuff! There is no goodness in such food, and my little ones are ailing. I beg you take the skin and give me meal.”

Gofa took the skin and looked at it; and she said:

“My man brings me many skins as good as this one; but you shall have the meal for the little ones--mixed meal, look you, such as we have to eat ourselves. We have no better.”