CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION OF FIRE

"A fire-mist and a planet, A crystal and a cell, A jelly-fish and a saurian, And a cave where the cave-men dwell; Then a sense of law and beauty And a face turned from the clod,-- Some call it Evolution, And others call it God."

A strange-looking animal was running across the open glade toward the forest. It looked something like a human being, but was entirely naked. Its body, except on the palms of the hands and soles of the feet, was covered with reddish-brown hair, but on the head it was nearly black and long and matted; while on the rest of the body it was short and curled--nearly fur, in fact. Its arms were long, reaching below the knees, and the great toes, as it ran, stood nearly at right angles to the others.

The animal carried no weapon of any kind, if we except a club or staff broken from a dry branch, which it seemed to use in maintaining an upright position as it hurried toward a large tree with pendent branches which stood at the edge of the forest.

Just as the creature reached the outer branches, which extended nearly to the ground, a storm, which had been rapidly approaching, burst with great violence. There was a loud clap of thunder, a bolt of lightning tore the tree to splinters, and the animal fell to the ground, stunned by the shock. It lay unconscious for some time, and the thunder shower had passed, leaving the sun shining brightly, when it raised its head and sat up. At first it slowly rubbed its body and head, and then, reaching full consciousness, its attention was attracted by a roaring and crackling sound a short distance away.

The lightning had prostrated the tree and had set fire to a mass of brush and logs lying at its roots. The beast sprang to its feet in astonishment and alarm.

The animal was one of our primitive ancestors, and he now saw fire for the first time.

As his body, chilled by the recent rain, began to feel the warmth, he first drew near, but as the heat increased, he was compelled to withdraw to a greater distance. He gazed as if fascinated, however, at the curious sight for a long time.

When it began to grow dark, he was surprised to see that the forest for some distance around, remained nearly as light as day.

His feeble intellect, however, soon wearied of the new sensation, and he withdrew to an overhanging rock near-by. He knew of a small cave at its base with a narrow entrance, and of this he at once took possession, rolling against the opening some masses of stone lying near and piling in others after he had entered, until he had secured the opening against any dangerous animal. He gave little further thought to the phenomena of the fire, for man had not yet reached a development in intellect which permitted a consecutive train of thought for any considerable length of time. He slept soundly, but when he crawled from his refuge in the morning, the smoke still rising from the pile of logs and brush attracted his attention and recalled to his mind what had occurred the evening before. He approached the fire, which had nearly consumed its supply of fuel, but was smouldering still in a large decayed log and the ends of several poles which lay partly in a bed of glowing coals.

So much was the man now interested in this new phenomenon that he forgot for a moment his usual caution when in the forest, and failed to observe a huge tiger which was slowly creeping up behind him, and, but for the sharp sound of a dry stick breaking under the animal's weight, this story would have ended then and there.

The man had just drawn from the fire a burning pole and was examining with much curiosity its glowing end, when the sound caused him to turn, only to meet the tiger, which had made its leap. The man bounded to one side, and at the same time, more by accident than design, he thrust the burning stick against the animal's breast. The fierce beast came against it with such impact that it penetrated through the skin and into the flesh. With a scream of terror and pain and many snarls and spits, the tiger began biting the injured spot and then turned and fled into the forest. Our man, who had given himself up for lost, stared in bewilderment at the retreating animal and then at the pole which had saved his life. He thought longer and more deeply than he had ever done before, as he stood beside the smouldering embers. Without any particular reason for his action, he gathered up some of the unconsumed ends of the branches, cast them into the coals, and was much amused to see them ignited and the flame renewed. It was a new plaything, and for a long time he continued to pile sticks upon the coals and to delight in the bright flame, the ascending smoke and the crackling sparks; but that he could make any practical use of his new discovery had not yet been suggested to his feeble intellect.

Tiring at length of the sport, he realized that he was hungry, and, turning into the forest, he sought for food. For some hours he roamed the hills and valleys, striking down with his stick a small animal which he devoured raw; finding a few grubs under fallen logs which he turned over; and he found also a few berries, prematurely ripened, and finally satisfied his ravenous appetite by filling his stomach with buds of shrubs and some succulent roots, which experience had taught him were not injurious and were at least satisfying.

By this time he had reached a part of the forest in which he had been making his home for a few weeks and, seeking out a tree, in which he had constructed a sort of nest with interlaced sticks and leaves, he lay down for a nap. He wakened late in the afternoon, climbed to the ground and started on an aimless walk through the forest, carrying his stick, but no other weapon, for other weapons than stones for throwing and sticks for striking were then unknown.

Most of the people in the group to which he belonged had short round heads, such as scientists call brachiocephalic, but this man was dolichocephalous, or longheaded, and this peculiarity had given him the name of Longhead among this group at the few gatherings of these people, which happened occasionally, more by accident than design, for they had no social organization whatever. They had no laws; no leaders; no permanent habitations and wore no clothing. They slept in nests built in the branches of trees at night, or sought shelter in any chance caves of the region through which they roved. This had no defined boundaries and they remained in the locality only because they found food fairly plentiful.

As yet, there was not even family organization, for it was many ages after this time before it dawned upon man anywhere that the male animal played any part in the propagation of species. To the ordinary and usual phenomena of nature our primitive forefathers never gave a thought or question, but accepted them without speculation as to their cause or fear as to their continuance, so long as regularity obtained. The rising and setting of the sun were to him perfectly natural events of daily occurrence from his childhood, and had so continued during the recollection of the oldest members of the group, and it was only when eclipses occurred, breaking this orderly continuity, that he felt at all alarmed. It was natural for the moon to shed her soft light when not obscured by clouds, and even its waxing and waning occasioned no alarm, for this, likewise, had continued "since the fathers fell asleep." There was nothing strange about the gentle dew descending by night or rain falling from the clouds; these he had observed from his earliest youth; but when the loud thunders reverberated through the hills, and the forked lightnings flashed athwart the sky, frequently rending the giant trees of the forest or bringing sudden death to a comrade, this mysterious and dangerous display of an unknown power, was, to him, alarming, and he early attributed these and all other infrequent or unaccountable phenomena to supernatural beings with whom his fancy peopled the hills and forests, the rivers and the sky.

It was entirely natural to primitive man that in the spring the trees and plants should bud and send forth leaves and blossoms, to be followed later by fruit, "each after its kind." This, also, had always occurred from his earliest recollection and that of his elders, and it occasioned no thought upon his part. It was only when floods, drouths and other calamities interfered with this orderly sequence of events that any mystery was presented or any thought required. It is clear that among these common and natural occurrences, which were simply accepted without question because they had always happened, must be classed the bringing forth of young by all mammals. Man had always observed that the females of all the animals about him brought forth young, "each after its kind." This was to be expected and gave him no surprise, nor, in the then condition of his intellect, did it give rise to a thought as to its cause. Likewise, his own womankind gave birth to young, from time to time, just as did the other animals, and there was no cause for speculation or thought in regard to this; the occurrence was too common to be a mystery.

There being then no knowledge of fatherhood, there were no fathers, and for many generations no relatives were known except in the female line. Consequently, there was no family hearthstone; no paternal love; no marriage. The relations of the sexes was purely physical and were generally indiscriminate, as opportunity might afford; but doubtless, with some, this companionship was continued for a longer or shorter period, as circumstances or congeniality might induce.

In these ages, and they were long ones among some peoples, it is obvious that there could have been no such emotion as paternal love, for no man even suspected that he was a father. No man experienced the exquisite pleasure of hearing the first cry of his first-born child; no man heard "Dada," from infant lips. No man assisted in the support of his children or took part in their care, except unconsciously as he aided in the maintenance of the children of the group or tribe; no man cared more for the mother of his children than he did for any other woman who might attract his fancy or passion. Above all, the men and women of that long epoch were strangers to the sacred companionship, the life-long attachment and communion of souls with mutual interests which attach to the true marriage of to-day. The children were the common care of the group or tribe; the boys that they might grow up to be hunters and warriors, and the girls that they might contribute to the sensual enjoyment of the men, or, if it pleased the spirits, or stars, or some other supernatural agency, might become mothers for the perpetuation of the tribe. In times of extreme danger, famine or privation, or when too feeble to follow the migrations of the group, the babies, especially the female ones, were ruthlessly abandoned to wild beasts or slaughtered outright. There existed, doubtless, the mother instinct which prompts females, even among the lower animals, to care for and defend their offspring, but it certainly fell far short of the mother love among civilized peoples.

After wandering aimlessly a number of miles, Longhead encountered a female of his own species who was not altogether unknown to him. They had met occasionally at the infrequent gatherings of the people who inhabited that part of the forest, and on one or two occasions had remained together for a few days in that anomalous companionship which took the place of marriage in those far-off days. There was no kiss, caress or other sign of affection or pleasure; the pair merely gave each other a friendly grin and grunted in a satisfactory tone. Words were scarce in the vocabulary of the people of that epoch, and they communicated with each other largely by means of signs, gesticulation and pantomime. The woman could not have been called handsome, according to our ideas of beauty. She, too, was naked and hairy, but the hair on her head was longer and less matted than on that of the man, and was held back from her face by being drawn behind the ears with a strip of bark twisted about her head to keep it somewhat in that condition. Her body was smaller than that of Longhead; but her limbs were slender and ungainly and her stomach also protruded, in consequence of the quantities of coarse vegetable food required to sustain life. By an accident in childhood, she had lost one of her front teeth, and on this account, she was known as Broken Tooth.

The woman soon gave Longhead to understand that she was hungry. The protective, or probably, the sexual instinct, prompted him to act as a provider, and he offered to assist her in a search for food. Together they roamed, finding here a few grubs and there a juicy root, and finally the man killed a small animal with his club, which they shared, Longhead tearing it in pieces with his hands and teeth and throwing small pieces to Broken Tooth, which he admiringly watched her devour. Her appetite finally satisfied, she lay back in the sunshine against the roots of a tree, closed her eyes in great contentment, and began a conversation with her companion in the few words then constituting the human vocabulary. She recalled their last meeting and asked why she had not seen him at any of the gatherings of the group since. He told her that in consequence of the jealousy of one of the giants of the group to which they both belonged, who had resented his attentions to one of the females of his harem, he had become involved in a fight with the giant in which he had been beaten nearly to death, and that, fearing to remain with his fellows, as well as on account of his serious injuries, he had retired to a distant part of the forest where he had found sufficient food and had recovered his strength. He told her that he had rather enjoyed his isolation and, had present company been with him in his forced retirement, he would have been entirely content. At this statement, the woman merely gave an incredulous sniff.

The man then related numerous encounters with wild animals, in which, of course, he had come off successfully--and just here he recollected his strange experience with the fire and his encounter with the tiger. With great truthfulness, and as much detail as his vocabulary permitted, he told her what had occurred to him the evening before and that very morning. How, seeking for refuge from a storm, he had been suddenly stricken unconscious, by what means he did not know; and the strange sight he had witnessed on recovery. He told her, also, of his adventure with the tiger that morning and its discomfiture. Broken Tooth laughed long and loudly at this and was wholly incredulous. Such a thing had never happened before, and consequently could not have happened now. She asked him what kind of a weed he had been eating, and said she was not born yesterday to believe such nonsense. This led to quite a discussion, the man insisting upon the reality of his experiences and the woman ridiculing the whole narrative as impossible. The colloquy finally ended by her asking him to conduct her to the place where he claimed such wonderful things had happened, that she might see if anything remained there to confirm his absurd story. Longhead assented and, as it was not far distant, they arrived at the locality a little before dark. The fire still smouldered in the decayed log and numerous sticks still smoked at their ends. Mindful of his morning's amusement, Longhead gathered a number of the burning poles, placed their glowing ends together and threw on them some dry leaves and twigs. In a moment a column of smoke began to ascend, followed soon by a tongue of bright flame and many rising and glowing sparks. One of these Broken Tooth caught in her hand, but dropped it with an exclamation of pain. "If a small one hurts so much, I don't wonder your tiger fled when you thrust a large one against his breast," she said.

Long they played with the fire, throwing upon it sticks and dry branches, and the woman clapped her hands and screamed with delight at each succeeding shower of sparks.

When at length night came on and the darkness made the firelight more brilliant, the man piled a large number of sticks on the fire to show how the forest was lighted up; but finally both became weary of the sport, and then he told her of the cave near-by--just large enough for two--and invited her to share it with him for the night. She consented, and as they were about to start, the man, without any thought of the effect, gathered up four or five of the sticks with live coals at the end and placed them together. These he waved in the air to amuse the woman with the flying sparks, as they passed along, she still screaming at each successive sparkle, until suddenly a bright flame shot up and, by accident, like many other valuable discoveries, a torch was invented. By its light they easily made their way to the rocky platform in front of the cave sheltered by the overhanging rock, and when Longhead cast down the torch Broken Tooth placed the ends of the burning sticks together as she had seen him do, and again the flame shot up. The new experience was too delightful to be given up, and, at the woman's suggestion, they gathered large armfuls of dry branches and some heavy logs which lay scattered about near the platform, which they piled up and from time to time added to the fire.

The night was cool, but as they sat back against the wall of rock under the sloping cliff to watch the blaze and flying sparks, a pleasant warmth, new to their experience, pervaded their bodies, and they gave themselves up to the luxury of the sensation.

The fire roared and blazed merrily, Broken Tooth shouted in glee, and Longhead began to think, in a slow ponderous way, that this new agent in his life might do much for his comfort if it could be perpetuated, but his mental power was too limited to suggest any method for this.

Their shouts and laughter had attracted the attention of the wild animals, and all at once Broken Tooth saw two glowing eyes and the crouching form of a great tiger almost at the edge of the platform. Longhead caught sight of it at the same moment, and with a yell of fear each scrambled for the narrow entrance of the cave. Broken Tooth, lighter of form and quicker of movement, reached it a moment the soonest, but no promptings of sex, gallantry or politeness prevented Longhead from throwing her roughly to one side while he attained the coveted shelter. Once within, he began to fill the entrance with stones, leaving his companion to the fate which he supposed had already befallen her, when, greatly to his surprise, she tumbled in unhurt. Filling the entrance so that it would not admit the body of the tiger, they peered together through the openings and saw the disappointed animal pacing back and forth just at the edge of the semi-circle of brilliant light made by the fire. Long they watched the baffled beast, and at first they were unable to understand why the animal did not approach the entrance and attempt to remove the stones and secure his prey. At length Broken Tooth said: "I believe he is afraid of the fire." She did not, of course, use the word "fire;" she probably said "brightness," or some equivalent word, if they had one. Longhead agreed that this might be the case, and together they watched the animal with great interest. Finally Longhead, emboldened by the tiger's hesitation, removed one of the stones, and, protruding his head, shouted in derision at his ancient enemy. The animal, whose rage or hunger made him momentarily forget his fear, made a dash toward the cave, but, when he came within the bright light and felt the heat of the fire, he retreated precipitately. Longhead finally crawled outside and Broken Tooth soon followed him. They taunted the great cat with the vilest words they knew; threw stones at it, and simply revelled in their new sensation of safety. Here was Old Saber-Tooth, the one animal of all others whose vicinage carried terror wherever he went, at bay at last. For a while the animal would make dashes toward them, when Broken Tooth would tumble into the cave and Longhead draw near the entrance, ready for instant retreat to safety; but each time the fear of the fire sent the tiger back beyond the charmed circle of its light, where it gave vent to its disappointment in savage growls and spittings. At length, wearied by the unprofitable labor, and awed by the strange light and heat, the beast disappeared; its snarls and growls grew fainter in the distance and ceased to be heard. Saber-Tooth had at last found something he feared, and man a protector.

Delighted with this new feeling of security from danger in the night, the man and woman sat long before the cheerful blaze and enjoyed its grateful warmth. They agreed that wild animals were afraid of this new agent, and if they could always have its protection they would have nothing to fear from them; but to their weak intellects no thought of an attempt to perpetuate the fire was suggested.

When their fuel was exhausted and nothing but a bed of glowing coals remained, they retired to the cave, carefully closing the entrance against the possible return of the tiger or the attack of some other animal, for they realized that the fire, being now nearly out, they could no longer depend upon it for protection.

Late in the morning Longhead and Broken Tooth emerged from the cave. The fire was out and the ashes cold. When they thought of the pleasurable warmth it had produced and the protection it had afforded they indulged in some expressions of regret that it was gone, and then thought no more about it. They soon made their way to the place of the smouldering log, but it was now nearly consumed. Directly the woman noticed two or three tiny threads of smoke, and on investigation they found that some dry excrescences, which we call "punk," had fallen away from the burning log and that on one side of each was a small spark. Broken Tooth took up one of these and, noting the white ash so like the down on certain plants which she had often blown away in sport, she blew upon it as she held it in her hand, and was delighted to see the spark spread and glow afresh. Longhead, too, picked up a piece of the lighted punk and, after blowing upon it for a few minutes, dropped it carelessly at his feet, where it fell upon some dry rotten wood and leaves. Without noticing this, he watched the amusement of his companion as she made the sparks fly from the piece she held, and then, suddenly, with a yell of pain, he jumped aside and hopped about on one foot, holding the other in his hand. The rotten wood and leaves upon which he had dropped the punk had ignited and the fire had reached his foot. He now understood the defeat of the tiger the morning before, and had ocular and painful demonstration of the fact that punk will retain fire, at least for a few hours.

Longhead now seemed to wake up; at last he had an idea, and he talked it over with the woman as they slowly returned to the cave platform, each carrying a piece of the lighted punk. Once there, the man sought for dry, rotten wood and small twigs, which they piled upon the punk and, after some vigorous blowing, produced flame.

An idea was born; a discovery was made; the greatest in all time. Broken Tooth remained to maintain the fire by putting on fresh fuel, while Longhead carried armfuls of sticks and logs from the forest, together with pieces of punk for future use. The punk he piled at the cave entrance to keep it dry, and man was now master of fire, the most beneficent of nature's gifts. Thenceforth it only remained that a plentiful supply of dry fuel and punk should be maintained at the cave, and their comfort and safety were assured.

Their delight at their mutual discovery--for Longhead insisted that if Broken Tooth had not blown upon the punk for amusement, he would not have discovered a method for the preservation of the fire--drew the two closer together as having a great secret in common. The necessity that the fire be supplied with fuel that it might be kept alive, and that fresh fire might occasionally be applied to the pieces of punk, suggested that one should remain for that purpose; and when Longhead proposed that the two should remain permanently together, the woman to keep the fire alive while the man sought for food for both, Broken Tooth agreed at once; and thus came about the first union resembling marriage in which the man became the provider and the woman the home-keeper.