Part 2

But all heard and heeded and hastened southward while behind them, across hill and dale, over forest and meadow, colossal mountains of ice glided irresistibly onward. The Vézère welcomed the swarms of fugitives within its sanctuary even as the north wind howled at its gates and all western Europe lay prostrate beneath the shadows of the glaciers.

Wherever peaceable creatures thrive, savage beasts will always be found preying upon them; and, sad to relate, the Vézère Valley—haven of refuge for all animals—had its share of those who continually annoyed the true lovers of peace. The Panther, Lynx and Wolf being the first on the ground, found abundant food—for the easy hunting; so easy, that in time, the fact became known throughout the world.

News travels fast among beast-folk; particularly if it is good news. The flesh-eaters of Africa finally became interested in the glowing accounts of opportunities awaiting them to the north and decided to have a look for themselves.

To reach France, it was necessary for them to cross the Mediterranean Sea or make a long journey around it. However, everything was conveniently arranged for them to make the trip without wetting their feet and that, too, by the shortest possible route.

As it chanced, Sicily and Italy were connected to each other and to Africa, thus forming a land bridge over which those who chose could enter southern Europe. The Lion, Leopard, Hyena and others were not long in crossing. Soon they arrived in France where an unpleasant surprise awaited them. The climate was cold and raw. Ice and snow confronted them at every turn. Being southern animals, they found themselves unprepared for such a change. Were it not for the hunting, every one of them would have turned about and gone back home.

But the hunting was excellent; so they stayed. Game was far more plentiful than reports had led them to believe. That being so, the rest soon took care of itself. Their fur and fuzz thickened to shaggy hair and underwool. Caves and rock-shelters gave further protection against the cold. The newcomers finally threw off all home ties and became full-fledged French citizens with new names: the Cave Lion, Cave Leopard and Cave Hyena.

For a time their frequent raids on the cloven-footed animals passed almost unnoticed. The latter had not yet learned to appreciate their danger. Those who fell victims were too dead to tell of their experiences while others fortunate enough to escape, thanked their lucky stars and thought no more about it. They made no concerted effort to protect themselves; and so, for a time, their enemies did about as they pleased.

Game was so plentiful that the cave-beasts grew careless. They threw off the cloak of secrecy and roamed through the Vézère Valley in the full light of day. In the heavy snow-drifts, the Moo Hooes were at a disadvantage as compared with their enemies whose broad soft feet enabled them to travel swiftly over the frozen crust. Seeing themselves threatened with destruction, the grass-eaters finally gathered together to find some way of protecting or ridding themselves of their fierce enemies. This was the occasion of their meeting with the Mammoth and Rhinoceros.

The Cave Lion, being the strongest and fiercest of the flesh-eaters, was the cloven-footed animals’ most dreaded foe. Every grass-eater in the valley had now learned to fear Grun Waugh above all creatures. As the Bison spoke his name, Hairi and Wulli looked inquiringly at each other. The former heaved a deep sigh and nodded gravely. The eyes of the Rhinoceros glistened and his lips set tightly together in a thin straight line.

“If you will, so do I,” he said to the Mammoth. “Our main task will be to make him stand and fight. He would never dare face both of us.”

“Drive him from his den, if you cannot kill him,” the Bison interrupted. “We do not ask more.” He suspected that Wulli was seeking an excuse to avoid the danger.

“Where is his den?” asked the Rhinoceros. “How can we find him?”

“No trouble about that. His home is high upon the big Rock.” The Bison nodded in the direction of a rugged promontory, the Rock of Moustier which jutted far into the valley, almost to the Vézère River. Its bare walls rose precipitously in limestone layers or ledges piled one upon another, to a broad table-like summit capped with snow. Facing the river, a steep slope composed of crumbled rock, formed the sole means of reaching the upper level from the valley beneath.

“Grun Waugh lives mid-way to the top,” the Bison explained. “The ground slopes up to his den. The den is his home.”

“Let us be off,” urged Wulli. “While we talk and do nothing, the Cave Lion may leave his hole and then we will be hard put to find him.”

To this Hairi agreed after a moment’s thought, so the pair marched off across the snow-covered meadow to the river. On reaching it, Hairi held back for an instant, then took a deep breath and set one foot upon the ice to test its strength. It creaked and trembled. The Mammoth retreated a step, raised his head and looked about him. The Rhinoceros hesitated not a moment but strode on ahead at his best gait. The air was cold, the ice proportionately thick and so he crossed in safety. Not until he reached the other bank and was pausing to catch his breath, did he realize that he was alone. With a surprised snort he turned and looked behind him.

About half-way between the two banks, Hairi was crawling along at a snail’s pace. His eyes never left the ice on which he trod. His footsteps rivalled the Panther’s stealthy tread. Had he been walking a tight-rope he could not have glided onward with more infinite pains.

To the Mammoth who had a healthy horror of mire, ice or any other support that threatened to give way beneath his weight, this was the most terrifying part of the whole adventure. To help matters, he held his breath and kept the fewest possible number of feet on the ice at any one time, all of which required his undivided attention. Meanwhile the Rhinoceros could only stand and stare, even after Hairi’s journey finally ended in a frantic leap to solid ground with half a dozen lumbering hops added to make sure.

“Stir yourself, Wulli,” bellowed a voice. “Why do you stand like a dumb Moo Hoo when there is work to be done?”

The Rhinoceros aroused himself and whirled about, too confused to express his thoughts with fitting words. He trotted behind his friend, sullen and thoughtful; and so in silence they approached the great Rock which thrust itself into the valley from the more distant heights like a rugged outpost placed there to guard the river and lowlands.

“This is the place,” said the Mammoth. “Now we must look around for Grun Waugh.”

“We can look when we get there,” Wulli sniffed and he scrambled boldly up the slope. Hairi followed. No more words were wasted. Their breath was needed for the steep climb. Higher and higher rose their huge bodies until they neared the foot of a more abrupt although short ascent; the middle terrace. This latter was topped by a broad rock-platform which projected from the towering back-wall. A few more steps and the Mammoth’s eyes were above the level of this platform.

“Take care, no noise,” he whispered suddenly. “Grun Waugh is not here. Another has taken his place.”

“Who?”

“Not so loud, I tell you. It is one of the Cave-folk; the kind that has no tail and walks around on its hind legs.”

“Bear?”

“No, no; come and see for yourself.”

The Rhinoceros advanced several steps which brought his eyes above the level of the ledge. He took a long, careful look, then turned to the Mammoth and said in a low voice trembling with disappointment:

“Trog-man; oo-oo-oo! Grun Waugh gone and all we have done goes for nothing. What shall we do?”

III

The Mammoth had no share in his companion’s regrets. That which he saw, aroused his interest to the full.

The rock-platform below which he stood was backed by a lofty limestone wall. The latter rose straight up in seamed and jagged layers and ended in a high table-land crowned with snow and leafless shrubs. A cavern opened at its base. In front of the cavern crouched the figure of a man. His back was turned towards the two friends, giving them only the rear view of a large bun-shaped head almost buried in broad, massive shoulders. A hyena skin partly covered his nakedness. It was but a single garment thrown over his back, with the forepaws tied together beneath his chin. Shoulders, arms and legs were left exposed. They bulged with fibre and sinew beneath their covering of short thick hair.

Suddenly the unknown half-turned to glance down beside him, revealing his features in profile; a low forehead, heavy brow-ridges and deep-set eyes. His lower face projected strongly forward. Its effect was massive rather than protruding because of the well-formed nose which amply filled the space between mouth and eyes. The lower jaw had a round, receding chin. The huge head was set upon a thick neck, so short that the base of the skull melted away into the shoulders and gave the latter a stooped appearance.

The stranger was about five feet tall. He sat, or rather squatted, thigh on heel with knees apart, devoting his entire attention to some peculiar task. In his right hand he held a large granite pebble with which he repeatedly struck a flint-flake held in his left. At every stroke, the chips flew about his ears beneath the blow of the hammer-stone.

To the Mammoth, this performance was more puzzling than the performer himself. He had seen cave-men before but never at such close range.

“Odd creatures these Trog-folk,” he whispered. “See how he sits on his hind legs and uses the front ones—just like a squirrel. What can he be doing?”

“Cracking rocks,” Wulli replied. “All Trog-men do the same thing—I know not why.”

“Indeed; I never noticed what they were doing,” said the Mammoth and he continued to watch the scene before him with the greatest interest. Apparently the Cave Man had espied neither him nor the Rhinoceros,—the two eavesdroppers peering over the terrace behind him. Rock-cracking claimed his sole and undivided attention. The hammer-stone in his right hand rose and fell with unbroken regularity upon the flint-flake held in his left.

Wulli quickly tired of this monotonous performance; but with every blow, the Mammoth’s eyes and mouth opened wider and wider.

“What does it mean?” he exclaimed. “So unusual. There must be something in rocks of which we have not yet learned.”

“Perhaps he eats them,” grunted the Rhinoceros. “If so he can have my share. They break teeth and taste of nothing. I prefer grass.”

“Look,” Hairi whispered in an awed voice. The Cave Man had ceased pounding the flint he held and was examining it with the greatest care, first on one side then on the other, meanwhile running his thumb along its ragged edges. Something about it must have displeased him, for with a grunt he tossed the flake over his left shoulder, then selected another from a small pile before him. The rejected flint, hurled so unceremoniously over the ledge, struck the Mammoth’s trunk. Hairi emitted a muffled squeal which instantly betrayed his presence.

The Cave Man sprang quickly to his feet. For an instant, he glared fiercely at the two eavesdroppers, then snatching up a jagged rock, bounded nimbly to the terrace edge.

“Ugh-h! What are you doing there?” he demanded in a deep guttural voice. The rock was poised threateningly over the Mammoth’s head.

Hairi was too startled by the suddenness of it all to speak or move. Wulli’s eyes sparkled. He was taking note of the Cave Man’s resolute bearing and the huge rock held aloft with such seeming ease. He was amazed that the Cave Man was prepared to defend himself and at the great physical strength which could lift a stone of such size and weight. No fear that it might at any moment come tumbling down upon his own head disturbed Wulli’s trend of thought.

The stranger had spoken words that neither of his hearers could grasp, the man-language which in their ears was a confused jabber of meaningless sounds. But his look and actions were enough. He had not flinched from even such a formidable pair as the Mammoth and Woolly Rhinoceros; and then as though realizing that he had none but brutes to deal with, he burst forth into the Mother Nature tongue:

“By the Lion’s tooth! What are you doing there?”

Hairi shrank back amazed. He now heard and saw familiar sounds and gestures—the beast-talk which all creatures could understand. Never had he thought Trog-men capable of talking sense—these strange beings who huddled together in caves and made no friends among the beasts about them.

“The Cave Lion—where is he?” was all the Mammoth could say.

“Gone. What do you want of him?”

“We came to fight,” replied the Elephant who by this time was fast recovering from his first astonishment. “He lives in that cave; so we have been told.”

The other lowered his arms and tossed the rock to one side. “Then you did not come here to fight me?” he demanded.

“As you please,” snorted the Rhinoceros. “But we must attend to Grun Waugh first. Then you may have your turn.”

The Cave Man smiled. Beasts never more than snarled and showed their teeth; and in their hideous mouthings was none of the joy and sunshine which now softened that friendly face. The smile was a revelation. Both the Mammoth and Rhinoceros unconsciously felt its warmth. Unkind thoughts were for the moment cast aside. After much effort, they dragged their great bodies up the steep face of the terrace. Seeing that the two beasts were peaceably inclined, the Cave Man stepped back and permitted them a foothold upon the rock-platform. As they scrambled up and found room for themselves, he stood fearlessly beneath the mighty Mammoth’s trunk and curling tusks; unabashed within thrusting range of the Rhino’s horn. With a confidence born only of the moment, he unhesitatingly placed himself at the mercy of his visitors, a situation which they were quick to see and appreciate.

“Oo-wee! No teeth nor claws and yet you do not fear us,” Wulli could not help saying. “But all is well; we wish you no harm.”

“Who are you?” Hairi asked.

“Pic.”

The Mammoth frowned. “None but leaders and fighters have names,” he said sternly. “You are but one of the poor Trog-folk as we can plainly see. We are Hairi the Mammoth and Wulli the Rhinoceros——”

“And I am Pic,”—said the other boldly. He hesitated a moment, then added—“the Ape Boy.”

“Ape Boy?” Wulli asked. “What is that?”

“A boy is a young man. As for the ape part I do not know, nor am I so sure I would like it if I did know. The Cave Lion, even men call me that.”

“Owk, the Cave Lion,” said the Mammoth, suddenly remembering what he was there for. “Where is he? How did you come here?”

“I live here,” was the answer. “I have lived in this valley ever since I can remember. Do you see that cave?”—the Ape Boy pointed to the dark opening in the rock-wall,—“It is mine. I sleep there.”

“Then we have come to the wrong place.”

“Yes and no. The Cave Lion lived there too but that was when I was away. When the cold weather came, I had to find shelter, so I drove him out.”

Hairi and Wulli pricked up their ears at this. Of all animals, Grun Waugh was a tough customer, as they well knew. As experts they took no small pride in their ability to tame him. But lo and behold! here was a puny Trog Boy who spoke of ousting him from his den as though that were a simple matter indeed.

“Drove him out, did you?” the Rhinoceros snorted. “Oo-wee! How did the Cave Lion like that?”

“He was angry,” replied the Ape Boy with a bland smile; “Arrah, so angry! He absolutely refused to be driven away at first; but I was determined that he must go. The air became so cold, I had to find shelter. You would not expect me to stay there with him in it, would you?” he demanded.

By this time Wulli’s professional pride was deeply wounded.

“We came to rid that den of its owner, Grun Waugh,” he said. “But now that he is gone, you who can manage the brute so easily may serve our purpose even better.” In spite of his endeavor to appear calm, Wulli’s voice jerked perceptibly.

The Ape Boy set his jaws tightly together and glared at the Rhinoceros.

“Take care,” he growled. “You see that I wear the skin of a hyena—my own killing. I have disposed of the Cave Lion for all of his sharp teeth and claws. You two—horns, tusks and everything—can be dealt with in the same way.”

Wulli promptly accepted this threat as a challenge. He trotted to the cave mouth and backed into the dark opening until only head and horn protruded. The Mammoth lumbered after and strove to imitate him. When about half-way in, he came to a sudden stop. His shoulder-hump had bumped against the roof and he could proceed no farther.

“Owk, owk; this hole is too small,” he bellowed. “What shall I do?”

“Be quiet,” sounded Wulli’s muffled voice behind him. “You are a cave-lion; so am I. Now let us see if he can drive us out.”

After waiting until the pair were firmly intrenched, the Ape Boy left them to their own devices for the moment while he darted about the rock-platform, picking up such dry leaves, sticks and brush as lay there fallen from above. These he piled in front of the two animals, now playing the parts of a pair of fierce cave-lions about to be driven forth into the cold world by the third and star performer—himself. The Mammoth and Wulli—peering between his partner’s forelegs—looked on, curious rather than fierce. They saw the Ape Boy glide away and disappear in a cleft behind a projection in the back wall. They were preparing to claim a well-earned victory when the youth suddenly reappeared with a smoking firebrand in one hand. As the odor of burning wood reached their nostrils, Hairi and Wulli coughed and stamped their feet uneasily. They saw the Ape Boy kneel down and thrust the brand into the mass of twigs and leaves. Then came a strange crackling sound followed by a sight fearful to behold.

From the pile arose red writhing tongues which leaped and lashed with burning breath. White cloud-puffs scattered by the breeze, curled about in all directions and filled the eyes and nostrils of the now terrified animals. Retreat was impossible; advance hopeless. Solid rock behind; red tongues and white clouds in front. Amid a chorus of frantic squeals and trumpetings, a voice rang out loud and clear from behind the red tongues and white curling clouds:

“Ya-ya, hi-yi! Come out of my cave or stay in and choke.”

But by this time, the two animals were in a panic of fear and took no heed. Nothing, not even the nearness of death, could have induced them to dash through the scorching heat and suffocating smoke. The Ape Boy saw their terror and decided that he had done enough. His heart softened. With one well-directed kick, he sent the burning embers flying across the ledge in all directions.

Out dashed the two would-be cave-lions in mad haste and raced along the platform until the grotto was hidden from their view by a projecting portion of the back-wall. Here they paused to gather breath and calm their nerves. Their eyes and noses still smarted from the irritating smoke.

“Kerchoo! I have had enough of that Ape Boy and his little red and white animal,” said the Mammoth.

“And I; oo-oo, my nose!” the Rhinoceros wailed. “Let us climb down again.”

So the two friends labored sideways down the steep terrace incline and were preparing to retreat along the main slope when a rustling sounded upon the rock-platform. There stood the Ape Boy watching them. His knees were bent forwards. His arms dangled with the palms of his hands turned backwards.

“Wait. Don’t go. Do come back.” He spoke so earnestly that the two animals paused. They saw him squat on the very edge of the terrace, perched like a bird with feet tightly gripping the shelving ledge. Each big toe was separate from its mates like a thumb. This peculiar arrangement enabled him to grasp the edge of the rock and hold himself securely anchored. No trace of red tongues or white clouds were to be seen about him. Hairi and Wulli made certain of this. They sniffed and sniffed but detected no alarming signs.

“What has become of the red animal with the bad, hot breath?” the Mammoth inquired.

At first the Ape Boy failed to understand, then his face expanded in an amused smile: “You mean fire and smoke. It is asleep now and I will not awaken it again if such is your wish.”

“It is,” declared Wulli emphatically. “I will not face it again.”

“I know,” the Ape Boy laughed. “All animals are afraid of fire. That is why I use it to fight them. The Cave Lion fears it too. Without it, I could never have driven him away. He could crush me with one blow of his big paw; but heat and smoke are too much for him.”

At this account of Grun Waugh’s discomfiture, the two animals were much interested.

“Tell us about him,” Wulli asked.

“And of yourself,” the Mammoth added. “Why do you live here alone?”

“Alone? Yes; why?” The youth’s face sobered in an instant. “Because I have no friends; that is why. You would not understand. None but men know what it means to live forever alone.”

The great Mammoth trembled. His ears fluttered like fans. Yes, he knew. Solitude was his own greatest dread. No lone beast or man need call vainly upon his sociable nature. The Ape Boy’s words and manner now impressed him more profoundly than even his first glimpse of the friendly, grinning face.

He wheeled and scrambled up to the rock-platform. “Come, Wulli,” he said. “The little red beast sleeps. We must remember our manners and show some courtesy to one who bears himself so boldly before the Rhinoceros, the Mammoth and Grun Waugh.”

IV

When on the rock-platform once more, Hairi and Wulli proceeded to make themselves at home. They settled down comfortably upon the rear cushions provided them by Nature and the Ape Boy squatted before them. The Mammoth’s attention was now attracted by the sight of those things which had first impressed him.

“Why do you beat those rocks together?” he inquired, pointing his trunk at the chips and flakes about him.

“The round stone is a hammer,” the Ape Boy replied. “The ragged ones are flints. I make them into weapons and tools. I leave one surface smooth and chip the other to form the cutting edges.”

“Why use flint, as you call it?” Hairi asked. “And why leave one side smooth? Oomp! Why do you bother with them at all?”

“Flint is hard and tough,” was the answer. “Of all stone it is the best for my work. I leave one surface smooth because I know of no other way to make straight, sharp edges. These are turtle-backs; flat and smooth on one surface, chipped round on the other. What do you think of them?”

The great Mammoth gazed helplessly at the flakes and broken chips scattered thickly over the ledge. The Ape Boy’s explanation added but little to his store of knowledge. All rocks seemed to him cold and lifeless objects; sharp and unpleasant to the touch.

“But why beat them together?” he asked much puzzled. “Do you eat them?”

“Eat flints? What an odd question,” the Ape Boy chuckled. “Whoever heard of any man or animal doing anything like that? They are tools and weapons just as I told you. This one,”—he stooped and picked up a large almond-shaped flake—“is an ax-head. That”—pointing to another of no definite form—“is a scraper. Here is another kind”—he selected a broad blade and held it up to the Mammoth; “the finest I have. Do you know what it is?”

Hairi shook his head vigorously. He was growing weary of rocks. Now he knew all that was to be learned of them,—and they were but commonplace things as he could see. His first curiosity was doomed to further disappointment. The Ape Boy pounded flints but did not eat them as the Mammoth half hoped he might. Tools and weapons were beyond his power of understanding. He lost interest.