Part 4

And he made the arrows, too, taking from his stock of arrow-sticks six of the shorter ones. These he trimmed and scraped, and made a deep notch at the top of each, to take the bow-string. Then at the tip he made a deep cut, lengthwise, with the saw, and fitted in a bit of the leg bone of a deer, shaped and pointed. Then he cut a very fine strip of fresh hide and bound it around the base of the bone point; and afterwards laid the arrows one by one in the sun, so that the hide might dry and shrink, and hold the arrow-head tight in its place.

And Garff took some wing-feathers of a wild goose and split them; and to each of the arrows he bound three strips of the feathers a little below the notch, to make them fly straight. And he made a quiver of birch bark, bound with bands of hide, for Tig to carry his arrows in. And he cut a mark upon the quiver, and the same mark on each of the arrows, so that Tig might always know his own; and he told him to be very careful about his arrows, not to waste them on chance shots, and always to recover them after shooting, if possible.

None of the boys had a better outfit than Tig’s. Among them they made a target out of an old skin, stuffed with dry grass, and practised shooting at it. The men taught them how to aim, standing sideways, on to the target, with feet well apart, firmly set, and to draw the bow by hooking the first two fingers of the right hand into the bowstring, not by pinching the arrow between thumb and finger. Every boy in the village wanted to practise and become a good marksman. The boys who could shoot well and run well were always thought much of; and sometimes they were allowed to go hunting with the men.

_Chapter the Twelfth_

_How Tig visited Goba the Spear-maker_

ONE day, not long after this, Tig was bringing in a faggot of sticks for his mother, when he saw his father getting ready for a journey. He had a wallet, with food packed into it, slung over his shoulders; also his bow and a quiver full of arrows. He carried a spear in his hand and had his stone axe slung at his side.

Tig had never been away with his father, and he wished very much to go. He asked his father where he was going, and Garff said:

“I am going away over yonder, to get some arrow-heads from Goba, the spear-maker; but it is too far for thee to travel. We shall be three days or more about our journey, and we shall sleep out at night. Thou art better at home.”

But Tig begged hard; so Garff said he might go, if his mother would let him; and though his mother said she feared it would be too far for him, yet he might go, for he was getting a big boy and must learn to march like a man.

Four or five men of the village were going with Garff, and at last they set out. They left the open ground where the cattle were feeding, and made their way into the forest, going downward until they came to the river. They marched along the river-bank, going up the stream, and then crossed the water and mounted upward by a track through the thick forest until they reached the high ground on the other side of the valley. Here they were on the open moor; and the men began to practise shooting for a match. One man shot an arrow ahead, and then the others, each in turn, aimed at the first man’s arrow. Then they walked on, and as soon as they were near enough to see how the arrows lay, they sent Tig to pick them up. But Tig did not have to ask whose arrow each one was, because every man had his own mark on his arrows, and Tig knew the marks just as well as one of us nowadays knows his own initials on a pocket-knife.

After sunset they came to a sheltered spot near a clump of oak trees, and here they camped for the night. Garff and another man then gathered up dry grass and dead leaves and twigs, and set to work with their fire-stick to make a fire. This they did by setting the fire-stick upright, with its end sunk into a hole in a little slab of wood that they had brought with them. Then one pressed his hand lightly on the top of the upright stick, while the other brought out a kind of bow with a loose bow-string, and looped the string around the middle of the upright stick. Then he worked the bow backward and forward and so made the fire-stick spin in its socket, which after a while became so hot that it set fire to the dry leaves and twigs that had been laid around it.

Meantime the other men had collected dry brushwood and had cut logs, so that they soon had a good fire. They sat round the fire and ate of the dried meat and corn-cake that they had with them, and then lay down to sleep. The men watched by turns to keep the fire up; for so long as there was a good blaze they need not fear the attack of wild beasts. Tig lay close beside his father; and when one of the men wakened Garff to take his turn of the watch, Tig wakened too, and saw the darkness all about them and the sparks flying upward towards the stars, and he heard the wind rushing in the tops of the trees around them, and far away the howling of the wolves hunting through the night.

After three days of such marching and camping, they came to Goba’s village. Goba’s village was in the hill country and at the top of a low, rounded hill. There was a wall set with stakes all round the village, and the huts were mostly larger and better built than any Tig had seen before. Goba and his sons never went away from their village. When the people moved off in the summer and went camping with their cattle, Goba and his sons stayed at home, working at their trade. They were all busily working when Garff and his party arrived.

All about Goba’s hut there were great heaps of flint stones, and the floor of the sheds where they worked was covered with broken pieces and waste chips. Goba and the other men all had different pieces of work on hand. Goba was making a spear-head; he had laid it on a large stone between his knees and kept striking it sharply and delicately with a small stone which he held in his right hand, to finish chipping the edge and make it sharp. Tig stood by and watched; and when Goba saw that Tig was watching him, he let him take the spear-head in his hands and look at it and feel the sharp point. It was made of beautiful yellow flint stone.

“Did you make it out of one of those stones?” Tig asked.

“Yes,” said Goba, “out of such a one as they have there, see,” and he pointed to where two men were fixing a large grey flint stone into a groove between two great logs. Then one of the men took a large stone and struck the flint at the top and knocked off a long flake. This they did six or seven times; and then they gathered up the flakes and took them into the shed.

And Goba showed Tig some of the things the other men were making. Two of them were at work upon arrow-heads, chipping them very slowly and carefully; and while Tig was watching, one man made an unlucky stroke and broke his arrow-head in two. So he spoiled all his day’s work at one blow, and there was nothing for it but to take another flake and begin all over again. But the other man took a bone tool like a chisel, and pressed it along the edge of his arrow-head all the way along, flaking off tiny chips and making the arrow-head very sharp.

Another man was making a stone axe. He had shaped it out by hammering it with stones of different shapes and sizes, and was then busily grinding the cutting edge by rubbing the axe-head backward and forward, backward and forward all the time, upon a large grooved slab of hard sandstone.

“With such as this we can cut,” said Goba; “we can fell trees and hew them in pieces. There is nothing like my axes for cutting. Now see, I will show thee how the men of the old time made their axes--they that were in the land before our fathers came hither;” and Goba picked up a heavy lump of flint stone that had been roughly chipped into the shape of an axe-head. “Even such as this were the axes of those rude folk! Ho! ho! right enough to brain a wolf withal, but good for naught when it comes to felling of trees or hewing of timber. We must have our axes well ground to an edge for felling timber, little son.”

“Why doesn’t my father make spears for himself?” Tig asked.

“Thy father is a hunter, boy,” said Goba. “Look at me! Can I chase the deer? Nay! Too heavy and slow am I for hunting. Set thy father’s leg against my leg and his arm against my arm: then thou wilt see.

“But set thy father’s hand against my hand, his eye against my eye! He can spy the deer when they are many paces distant among the fern, where I should see naught. But can he see, as I can see, into the heart of the stone, and can he handle it aright to shape an arrow or an axe? Nay, he cannot. Now I was born to love the good stones, and these my sons follow after me. It is not born in thee to handle stones: thou wilt grow up to be a hunter, like thy father.”

“I should like to be a spearmaker, and make spears and arrows like these of yours,” said Tig.

“Then thou must come and learn our craft,” said the old man, “and that is a long matter. Start young, that’s the only way. The hand must learn, and the eye must learn, and many a likely piece of stuff be spoiled before a craftsman is made. But thou wilt not come. Thy father likes better for thee to learn how to hunt deer and slay wolves, with the good stones that I and my sons will make for thee. It is not born in thee to follow our craft, little son.”

Inside his hut Goba had his store of all kinds of weapons made of stone--axes and spears and arrow-heads and daggers; he also had knives and chisels, and scrapers to scrape hides with, and little saws, and many other such things all of flint stone.

Then Garff and his men unpacked the goods they had brought with them--fine skins, and pickaxes made of deer’s antlers (of which Goba was always in want, for digging out the flint), and a fine buck that they had killed in the forest that morning, and as much of the crushed corn out of their stock as they could spare. And these things they exchanged with Goba for flint arrows and spears and two or three axes. And Goba gave Tig a javelin or little spear for his own; because he said that the party had a long way to travel before they could get home, and Tig must have his weapon like the rest, in case they should fall in with wild beasts and be attacked.

_Chapter the Thirteenth_

_Arsan’s Story about Grim the Hunter_

ARSAN was the oldest man in Garff’s village; he was so old that no one knew how old he was. He could remember things that happened before anyone else in the village was born; and he was very fond of telling stories about the old times. The people liked to listen to Arsan’s stories, when they were gathered round the fire in winter, or when sitting out of doors on a summer evening.

One day in winter, when the snow was thick outside and the people were keeping at home out of the storm, many of them gathered together in Garff’s hut. Old Arsan was there, and the people asked for a story, and Tig crept near so that he could hear it. And Arsan said:

“Once, when I was a child, about the bigness of this youngling here, or less, I beheld Grim the Hunter. Well do I remember the day when I beheld Grim the mighty hunter.”

Then the people said: “Tell us a story of Grim the mighty hunter.”

So Arsan began his story, and he said: “In the days long ago men were great hunters. There be none now that are hunters like them of the old time. For in the old time there were beasts more and mightier than there be nowadays, and the men who hunted them were mightier likewise. There was Laidir who once tracked out the great wild ox and slew him in the swamp. And there was Curad who wore about his neck a necklace of three rows of the fang-teeth of wolves that he had slain with his own hand. But greater than Laidir and greater than Curad was Grim, the mighty hunter.

“When Grim was but a little more than a babe, he took a spear and killed a wolf-cub that his father had brought into the hut alive. And it was said of him, by them that were wise among the folk, that he would live to be a slayer of beasts.

“Now when he was grown a tall youth, it befell one day that he went forth into the woods to kill meat. He carried his bow and arrows at his back, and in his hand a spear. By his side hung his trusty axe, a stone of the best. So he went, armed like a man, but without the wit of a man, and heeding naught.

“For by and by he spied a bear-cub moving among the fern in an open space of the woods. Now Grim greatly desired to have the skin of a bear-cub, so, without more ado, he shot at the bear-cub thrice with his arrows and wounded it; and then ran after it and smote it as it ran, and slew it. And then, since it was too heavy a beast for him to carry off, he fell to skinning it there and then, so as to load himself with the hide and come again for the meat. But suddenly he heard a terrible roar behind him, and turning round he saw a great big she-bear, that was the mother of the cub, coming upon him out of the forest.”

Then some of the people cried out: “Nay, tell us now--surely she slew him not!”

And Arsan said: “Nay, she slew him not. For Grim was but a youth then, and as ye know he was thereafter an old man dwelling among the people. Nay, she slew him not. But the she-bear came upon him with a terrible roaring. She was dreadful to look upon, of a vast bigness, her eyes like hot fire and her jaws dripping foam. And Grim turned and ran for his life; but she ran faster than he, and would surely have caught him, but that he won to a tree, and climbed up instantly out of her reach.

“Then the she-bear climbed up into the tree after Grim. So he crept out upon a long branch, and the bear made ready to follow him. Then Grim fitted an arrow to his bow and took steady aim and shot, and shot again, and wounded her in the body. But she came on, nevertheless, growling, and mowing with her great jaws. Then Grim worked himself along to the end of the branch and held by his hands, and swung and so dropped to a branch below. And the she-bear turned herself about and climbed down to that branch and came along towards him as before. And, again, Grim drew two arrows on her and wounded her twice again, and the blood came streaming from the wounds. Then Grim saw that he had only three arrows left. So again he swung from the branch and dropped, and thence to the ground; and he stood up and shot all three arrows into the bear from beneath, with all his might and main. And she turned to climb downwards, and ripped the tree with her great claws, and fell to the ground; and though she was stricken to the death, she reared herself on her hind legs and made as though to set upon him. Then, being eager to kill, he picked up his spear and hurled it, so that it pierced the bear’s breast, and she fell forward, tearing and biting at the spear. Then Grim ran in upon her with his axe, and clove her skull and made an end of her. And he cut out his arrows from her carcase and struck off her four paws and took them; and he took the skin of the bear-cub. And then, because it was near to nightfall, he hastened home.

“And he and some of the people came on the next day to the place, and, lo! the wolves had devoured the carcases of the she-bear and of the bear-cub in the night, and there remained not even the bones of them.

“And Grim made him a necklace of the claws of the she-bear that he slew on that day; and it was ever about his neck. This have I seen. And it was meet that he should wear her claws for bravery and strength; for he slew her with his own hands.

“Thus was Grim great and famous among the people; and far be it from me to name his name to his hurt. Howbeit, he was a mighty hunter!”

And the people all said: “Aye, surely that was he--he was a mighty hunter!”

_Chapter the Fourteenth_

_DICK AND HIS FRIENDS: A Talk about Stone Weapons_

AS soon as he had finished reading the chapter, Uncle John went to a cabinet and took out a box in which were a number of flint arrow-heads of different shapes and sizes. Some were not longer than one’s finger-nail, and some were two or three inches in length, long enough to be used as heads for a javelin, such as Goba gave to Tig. Some were oval in shape like the leaf of a privet bush, others were shaped like the ace of diamonds; some had barbs at each side, and some a tang between the barbs for fixing the head to the shaft of the arrow.

Uncle John asked David if he could tell why some of the arrows were barbed and some not. Joe said that perhaps only the cleverest men could make the barbed arrows; the others were easier to make.

“No doubt that was so,” said Uncle John, “but all the same, they made a great many of both kinds.”

Dick said perhaps the plain arrows were for shooting at a target, but the barbed ones for killing things.

“I expect,” said Uncle John, “that the barbed arrows were used in battle. A barbed arrow cannot be plucked out of a wound, and so it is more deadly than the other. The plain arrows were generally used in hunting. When a man had shot a deer or a hare, he wanted to be able to pull out his arrow at once and use it again, but a barbed arrow sticks in the wound and cannot be pulled out.”

Dick wanted to know if one of these little arrow-heads would really kill a big animal like a deer. David said, “Yes, of course it would. It is as big as a rifle bullet.”

“But it wasn’t shot as hard as a rifle bullet is,” Dick said.

“However, these arrows were shot quite hard enough,” said Uncle John. “Some years ago the skeleton of a man was found in a cave in France. The man had evidently been killed in battle in the old times that we have been reading about, for sticking in his backbone was the head of a flint arrow, which had been shot at the man with such force that it had pierced his clothing and his body, and had half buried itself in his spine.”

Then Uncle John opened another drawer in his cabinet, and took out a stone axe-head, beautifully ground and polished, shaped to a cutting edge both back and front, and with a hole drilled through for the shaft. The boys all looked at it and handled it, and Joe said:

“How could men cut down trees with an axe like that? It would never be sharp enough to cut wood with, surely.”

“I think this one was a battle-axe,” Uncle John answered, “because it is small and very carefully finished, as you see, and ornamented with these lines at the top. Axes for cutting wood were larger and plainer, I daresay. But even then, of course, they weren’t such useful tools as our steel axes that we use nowadays. Has anyone of you ever heard what else the men of those old times used, when they wanted to fell a big tree?--Why, fire! They lighted a fire at the foot of the tree, and when it was burnt out, they hacked away the charred wood and lighted the fire again--and so on, until they got the tree down. Then they had to chop and chop with their axes to trim the trunk; so it was a long business. But they managed it all the same; for they needed hewn wood for many purposes, of which, no doubt, the book will tell us later on.”

The next day, out on the heath, the boys gathered flint stones and tried to make some arrow-heads. They found it very hard work. It was easy to knock off pieces that had a cutting edge or a sharp point; but it was very hard to chip these flakes into anything like the proper shape. They all tried for a long while, and banged and cut their fingers, without producing a single good specimen; and this they found a little disappointing. But, as Uncle John reminded them, Goba and his men were old hands at the business, and no doubt they had had to spend a long time learning and practising it before they could do it well. “And even then,” said Uncle John, “how long do you think it would take a skilled man to make a single arrow-head?” The boys all guessed about an hour or two. “Well, of course, we don’t know,” said Uncle John. “But I can tell you this. Some years ago two Englishmen, who were travelling in the wild parts of North America, came across a tribe of Red Indians who had nothing but stone weapons. And the Indians told them that even the cleverest workman of the tribe could not make more than one arrow-head in a whole day’s work. So a dagger, or a long spear or a stone axe, especially of the sort that was ground to an edge at both ends and polished all over, must have taken weeks or even months to make.

“In the British Museum,” Uncle John went on, “there is a large collection of very wonderful flint weapons. Some day we will all go to London, and Dick shall take us to the Museum to see them; and besides these we shall see the hammer-stones that were used for chipping flints with, and the grinding stones on which the stone axes were rubbed and ground to an edge.”

_Chapter the Fifteenth_

_THE STORY OF TIG: The Village Pond_

THE pond from which the women of the village used to get water for drinking and washing and cooking was outside the village on the top of the hill. It was always full of good water, even in dry weather. The women dipped their jars there, and the cattle drank from it, but there was always plenty of water. No one had ever known the pond to run dry.

However, one day when the men had all gone hunting, some of the women went to the pond to fetch water. But soon they came back and ran about among the huts, crying out, “Oho, oho! The pond is dry! The pond is dry, oho! oho!”

Then the other women came out of the huts, and some of the old men and boys with them, and they all made haste to go to the pond. When they got to it, they found that what the first woman had said was true. There was not a pond at all, but only a puddle where the pond had been. And the women tossed up their arms and wailed, “Oho-ho-ho! the pond is dry!”

Then during many days the people were sadly troubled for want of water close at hand. The women had to go in parties down to the river in the valley and carry the heavy jars of water all the way up the hill to the huts. And the men had to beat a track through the woods and take the cattle down to drink at the stream, and guard them carefully going and coming for fear of wolves, every man carrying his weapons: and this kept the men at home and hindered them from hunting.

So they sent for a wise man, called a Medicine Man, to come to tell them what they might do to bring back the water. And the Medicine Man said, “Make a feast and dance and sing and call upon the gods, praying them to send rain; and the rain will come and fill up the pond.”

So the people made a feast, and they danced for many hours and sang all their songs over and over again, and yet no rain came. However, after three days there was a thunderstorm, and much rain fell; but it did not fill up the pond.

Then they asked the Medicine Man again, and he said: “Let the people dance and sing and call upon the gods again. And afterwards let the women take jars and go and fill them at the river and bring them up and pour out the water upon the pond. Then the spirits of the water will return, and the pond will be filled.” So the people did all this; and the women carried up jars and jars full of water from the river and poured it into the pond. But the water sank away faster than they could pour it in, and there was nothing left but a puddle.

Then they asked the Medicine Man again. And he went and brought two other Medicine Men, and they walked round and round the pond with their wands in their hands. Then they said: “The gods are angry and have taken away the water. They will not send it again unless the people offer sacrifices. Let an ox be sacrificed.”