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impossible　for　me　to　keep　up　with　Lop…Ear。



At　last　I　gave　up；　crouching　in　the　secure　fork　of　a

tree。　　Lop…Ear　went　right　on。　　I　called　to　himmost

plaintively；　I　remember；　and　he　stopped　and　looked

back。　　Then　he　returned　to　me；　climbing　into　the　fork

and　examining　the　arrow。　　He　tried　to　pull　it　out；　but

one　way　the　flesh　resisted　the　barbed　lead；　and　the

other　way　it　resisted　the　feathered　shaft。　　Also；　it

hurt　grievously；　and　I　stopped　him。



For　some　time　we　crouched　there；　Lop…Ear　nervous　and

anxious　to　be　gone；　perpetually　and　apprehensively

peering　this　way　and　that；　and　myself　whimpering　softly

and　sobbing。　　Lop…Ear　was　plainly　in　a　funk；　and　yet

his　conduct　in　remaining　by　me；　in　spite　of　his　fear；　I

take　as　a　foreshadowing　of　the　altruism　and　comradeship

that　have　helped　make　man　the　mightiest　of　the　animals。



Once　again　Lop…Ear　tried　to　drag　the　arrow　through　the

flesh；　and　I　angrily　stopped　him。　　Then　he　bent　down

and　began　gnawing　the　shaft　of　the　arrow　with　his

teeth。　　As　he　did　so　he　held　the　arrow　firmly　in　both

hands　so　that　it　would　not　play　about　in　the　wound；　and

at　the　same　time　I　held　on　to　him。　　I　often　meditate

upon　this　scenethe　two　of　us；　half…grown　cubs；　in　the

childhood　of　the　race；　and　the　one　mastering　his　fear；

beating　down　his　selfish　impulse　of　flight；　in　order　to

stand　by　and　succor　the　other。　　And　there　rises　up

before　me　all　that　was　there　foreshadowed；　and　I　see

visions　of　Damon　and　Pythias；　of　life…saving　crews　and

Red　Cross　nurses；　of　martyrs　and　leaders　of　forlorn

hopes；　of　Father　Damien；　and　of　the　Christ　himself；　and

of　all　the　men　of　earth；　mighty　of　stature；　whose

strength　may　trace　back　to　the　elemental　loins　of

Lop…Ear　and　Big…Tooth　and　other　dim　denizens　of　the

Younger　World。



When　Lop…Ear　had　chewed　off　the　head　of　the　arrow；　the

shaft　was　withdrawn　easily　enough。　　I　started　to　go　on；

but　this　time　it　was　he　that　stopped　me。　　My　leg　was

bleeding　profusely。　　Some　of　the　smaller　veins　had

doubtless　been　ruptured。　　Running　out　to　the　end　of　a

branch；　Lop…Ear　gathered　a　handful　of　green　leaves。

These　he　stuffed　into　the　wound。　　They　accomplished　the

purpose；　for　the　bleeding　soon　stopped。　　Then　we　went

on　together；　back　to　the　safety　of　the　caves。







CHAPTER　VIII





Well　do　I　remember　that　first　winter　after　I　left　home。

I　have　long　dreams　of　sitting　shivering　in　the　cold。

Lop…Ear　and　I　sit　close　together；　with　our　arms　and

legs　about　each　other；　blue…faced　and　with　chattering

teeth。　　It　got　particularly　crisp　along　toward　morning。

In　those　chill　early　hours　we　slept　little；　huddling

together　in　numb　misery　and　waiting　for　the　sunrise　in

order　to　get　warm。



When　we　went　outside　there　was　a　crackle　of　frost　under

foot。　　One　morning　we　discovered　ice　on　the　surface　of

the　quiet　water　in　the　eddy　where　was　the

drinking…place；　and　there　was　a　great　How…do…you…do

about　it。　　Old　Marrow…Bone　was　the　oldest　member　of　the

horde；　and　he　had　never　seen　anything　like　it　before。

I　remember　the　worried；　plaintive　look　that　came　into

his　eyes　as　he　examined　the　ice。　　（This　plaintive　look

always　came　into　our　eyes　when　we　did　not　understand　a

thing；　or　when　we　felt　the　prod　of　some　vague　and

inexpressible　desire。）　Red…Eye；　too；　when　he

investigated　the　ice；　looked　bleak　and　plaintive；　and

stared　across　the　river　into　the　northeast；　as　though

in　some　way　he　connected　the　Fire　People　with　this

latest　happening。



But　we　found　ice　only　on　that　one　morning；　and　that　was

the　coldest　winter　we　experienced。　　I　have　no　memory　of

other　winters　when　it　was　so　cold。　　I　have　often

thought　that　that　cold　winter　was　a　fore…runner　of　the

countless　cold　winters　to　come；　as　the　ice…sheet　from

farther　north　crept　down　over　the　face　of　the　land。　But

we　never　saw　that　ice…sheet。　　Many　generations　must

have　passed　away　before　the　descendants　of　the　horde

migrated　south；　or　remained　and　adapted　themselves　to

the　changed　conditions。



Life　was　hit　or　miss　and　happy…go…lucky　with　us。

Little　was　ever　planned；　and　less　was　executed。　　We　ate

when　we　were　hungry；　drank　when　we　were　thirsty；

avoided　our　carnivorous　enemies；　took　shelter　in　the

caves　at　night；　and　for　the　rest　just　sort　of　played

along　through　life。



We　were　very　curious；　easily　amused；　and　full　of　tricks

and　pranks。　　There　was　no　seriousness　about　us；　except

when　we　were　in　danger　or　were　angry；　in　which　cases

the　one　was　quickly　forgotten　and　the　other　as　quickly

got　over。



We　were　inconsecutive；　illogical；　and　inconsequential。

We　had　no　steadfastness　of　purpose；　and　it　was　here

that　the　Fire　People　were　ahead　of　us。　　They　possessed

all　these　things　of　which　we　possessed　so　little。

Occasionally；　however；　especially　in　the　realm　of　the

emotions；　we　were　capable　of　long…cherished　purpose。

The　faithfulness　of　the　monogamic　couples　I　have

referred　to　may　be　explained　as　a　matter　of　habit；　but

my　long　desire　for　the　Swift　One　cannot　be　so

explained；　any　more　than　can　be　explained　the　undying

enmity　between　me　and　Red…Eye。



But　it　was　our　inconsequentiality　and　stupidity　that

especially　distresses　me　when　I　look　back　upon　that

life　in　the　long　ago。　Once　I　found　a　broken　gourd　which

happened　to　lie　right　side　up　and　which　had　been　filled

with　the　rain。　　The　water　was　sweet；　and　I　drank　it。　　I

even　took　the　gourd　down　to　the　stream　and　filled　it

with　more　water；　some　of　which　I　drank　and　some　of

which　I　poured　over　Lop…Ear。　　And　then　I　threw　the

gourd　away。　　It　never　entered　my　head　to　fill　the　gourd

with　water　and　carry　it　into　my　cave。　　Yet　often　I　was

thirsty　at　night；　especially　after　eating　wild　onions

and　watercress；　and　no　one　ever　dared　leave　the　caves

at　night　for　a　drink。



Another　time　I　found　a　dry；　gourd；　inside　of　which　the

seeds　rattled。　　I　had　fun　with　it　for　a　while。　　But　it

was　a　play　thing；　nothing　more。　　And　yet；　it　was　not

long　after　this　that　the　using　of　gourds　for　storing

water　became　the　general　practice　of　the　horde。　　But　I

was　not　the　inventor。　　The　honor　was　due　to　old

Marrow…Bone；　and　it　is　fair　to　assume　that　it　was　the

necessity　of　his　great　age　that　brought　about　the

innovation。



At　any　rate；　the　first　member　of　the　horde　to　use

gourds　was　Marrow…Bone。　　He　kept　a　supply　of

drinking…water　in　his　cave；　which　cave　belonged　to　his

son；　the　Hairless　One；　who　permitted　him　to　occupy　a

corner　of　it。　　We　used　to　see　Marrow…Bone　filling　his

gourd　at　the　drinking…place　and　carrying　it　carefully

up　to　his　cave。　　Imitation　was　strong　in　the　Folk；　and

first　one；　and　then　another　and　another；　procured　a

gourd　and　used　it　in　similar　fashion；　until　it　was　a

general　practice　with　all　of　us　so　to　store　water。



Sometimes　old　Marrow…Bone　had　sick　spells　and　was

unable　to　leave　the　cave。　　Then　it　was　that　the

Hairless　One　filled　the　gourd　for　him。　　A　little　later；

the　Hairless　One　deputed　the　task　to　Long…Lip；　his

son。　　And　after　that；　even　when　Marrow…Bone　was　well

again；　Long…Lip　continued　carrying　water　for　him。　　By

and　by；　except　on　unusual　occasions；　the　men　never

carried　any　water　at　all；　leaving　the　task　to　the　women

and　larger　children。　　Lop…Ear　and　I　were　independent。

We　carried　water　only　for　ourselves；　and　we　often

mocked　the　young　water…carriers　when　they　were　called

away　from　play　to　fill　the　gourds。



Progress　was　slow　with　us。　　We　played　through　life；

even　the　adults；　much　in　the　same　way　that　children

play；　and　we　played　as　none　of　the　other　animals

played。　　What　little　we　learned；　was　usually　in　the

course　of　play；　and　was　due　to　our　curiosity　and

keenness　of　appreciation。　　For　that　matter；　the　one　big

invention　of　the　horde；　during　the　time　I　lived　with

it；　was　the　use　of　gourds。　　At　first　we　stored　only

water　in　the　gourdsin　imitation　of　old　Marrow…Bone。



But　one　day　some　one　of　the　womenI　do　not　know　which

onefilled　a　gourd　with　black…berries　and　carried　it

to　her　cave。　　In　no　time　all　the　women　were　carrying

berries　and　nuts　and　roots　in　the　gourds。　　The　idea；

once　started；　had　to　go　on。　　Another　evolution　of　the

carrying…receptacle　was　due　to　the　women。　　Without

doubt；　some　woman's　gourd　was　too　small；　or　else　she

had　forgotten　her　gourd；　but　be　that　as　it　may；　she

bent　two　great　leaves　together；　pinning　the　seams　with

twigs；　and　carried　home　a　bigger　quantity　of　berries

than　could　have　been　contained　in　the　largest　gourd。



So　far　we　got；　and　no　farther；　in　the　transportation　of

supplies　during　the　years　I　lived　with　the　Folk。　　It

never　entered　anybody's　head　to　weave　a　basket　out　of

willow…withes。　　Sometimes　the　men　and　women　tied　tough

vines　about　the　bundles　of　ferns　and　branches　that　they

carried　to　the　caves　to　sleep　upon。　　Possibly　in　ten　or

twenty　generations　we　might　have　worked　up　to　the

weaving　of　baskets。　　And　of　this；　one　thing　is　sure：　if

once　we　wove　withes　into　baskets；