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At　first　the　episode　seemed　merely　funny　to　me。　　But

when　one　of　the　vagrant　impulses　of　fear；　common　in

that　age　of　perpetual　insecurity；　moved　within　me；　I

was　struck　with　my　own　loneliness。　I　was　made　suddenly

aware　of　Lop…Ear's　remoteness　out　there　on　that　alien

element　a　few　feet　away。　　I　called　loudly　to　him　a

warning　cry。　　He　awoke　frightened；　and　shifted　his

weight　rashly　on　the　log。　　It　turned　over；　sousing　him

under。　　Three　times　again　it　soused　him　under　as　he

tried　to　climb　out　upon　it。　　Then　he　succeeded；

crouching　upon　it　and　chattering　with　fear。



I　could　do　nothing。　　Nor　could　he。　　Swimming　was

something　of　which　we　knew　nothing。　　We　were　already

too　far　removed　from　the　lower　life…forms　to　have　the

instinct　for　swimming；　and　we　had　not　yet　become

sufficiently　man…like　to　undertake　it　as　the　working

out　of　a　problem。　　I　roamed　disconsolately　up　and　down

the　bank；　keeping　as　close　to　him　in　his　involuntary

travels　as　I　could；　while　he　wailed　and　cried　till　it

was　a　wonder　that　he　did　not　bring　down　upon　us　every

hunting　animal　within　a　mile。



The　hours　passed。　　The　sun　climbed　overhead　and　began

its　descent　to　the　west。　　The　light　wind　died　down　and

left　Lop…Ear　on　his　log　floating　around　a　hundred　feet

away。　　And　then；　somehow；　I　know　not　how；　Lop…Ear　made

the　great　discovery。　　He　began　paddling　with　his　hands。

At　first　his　progress　was　slow　and　erratic。　　Then　he

straightened　out　and　began　laboriously　to　paddle　nearer

and　nearer。　　I　could　not　understand。　　I　sat　down　and

watched　and　waited　until　he　gained　the　shore。



But　he　had　learned　something；　which　was　more　than　I　had

done。　Later　in　the　afternoon；　he　deliberately　launched

out　from　shore　on　the　log。　　Still　later　he　persuaded　me

to　join　him；　and　I；　too；　learned　the　trick　of　paddling。

For　the　next　several　days　we　could　not　tear　ourselves

away　from　the　slough。　　So　absorbed　were　we　in　our　new

game　that　we　almost　neglected　to　eat。　　We　even　roosted

in　a　nearby　tree　at　night。　　And　we　forgot　that　Red…Eye

existed。



We　were　always　trying　new　logs；　and　we　learned　that　the

smaller　the　log　the　faster　we　could　make　it　go。　　Also；

we　learned　that　the　smaller　the　log　the　more　liable　it

was　to　roll　over　and　give　us　a　ducking。　　Still　another

thing　about　small　logs　we　learned。　　One　day　we　paddled

our　individual　logs　alongside　each　other。　　And　then；

quite　by　accident；　in　the　course　of　play；　we　discovered

that　when　each；　with　one　hand　and　foot；　held　on　to　the

other's　log；　the　logs　were　steadied　and　did　not　turn

over。　　Lying　side　by　side　in　this　position；　our　outside

hands　and　feet　were　left　free　for　paddling。　　Our　final

discovery　was　that　this　arrangement　enabled　us　to　use

still　smaller　logs　and　thereby　gain　greater　speed。　　And

there　our　discoveries　ended。　　We　had　invented　the　most

primitive　catamaran；　and　we　did　not　have　sense　enough

to　know　it。　　It　never　entered　our　heads　to　lash　the

logs　together　with　tough　vines　or　stringy　roots。　　We

were　content　to　hold　the　logs　together　with　our　hands

and　feet。



It　was　not　until　we　got　over　our　first　enthusiasm　for

navigation　and　had　begun　to　return　to　our　tree…shelter

to　sleep　at　night；　that　we　found　the　Swift　One。　　I　saw

her　first；　gathering　young　acorns　from　the　branches　of

a　large　oak　near　our　tree。　　She　was　very　timid。　　At

first；　she　kept　very　still；　but　when　she　saw　that　she

was　discovered　she　dropped　to　the　ground　and　dashed

wildly　away。　　We　caught　occasional　glimpses　of　her　from

day　to　day；　and　came　to　look　for　her　when　we　travelled

back　and　forth　between　our　tree　and　the　mouth　of　the

slough。



And　then；　one　day；　she　did　not　run　away。　　She　waited

our　coming；　and　made　soft　peace…sounds。　　We　could　not

get　very　near；　however。　When　we　seemed　to　approach　too

close；　she　darted　suddenly　away　and　from　a　safe

distance　uttered　the　soft　sounds　again。　　This　continued

for　some　days。　　It　took　a　long　while　to　get　acquainted

with　her；　but　finally　it　was　accomplished　and　she

joined　us　sometimes　in　our　play。



I　liked　her　from　the　first。　　She　was　of　most　pleasing

appearance。　She　was　very　mild。　　Her　eyes　were　the

mildest　I　had　ever　seen。　　In　this　she　was　quite　unlike

the　rest　of　the　girls　and　women　of　the　Folk；　who　were

born　viragos。　　She　never　made　harsh；　angry　cries；　and

it　seemed　to　be　her　nature　to　flee　away　from　trouble

rather　than　to　remain　and　fight。



The　mildness　I　have　mentioned　seemed　to　emanate　from

her　whole　being。　　Her　bodily　as　well　as　facial

appearance　was　the　cause　of　this。　　Her　eyes　were　larger

than　most　of　her　kind；　and　they　were　not　so　deep…set；

while　the　lashes　were　longer　and　more　regular。　Nor　was

her　nose　so　thick　and　squat。　　It　had　quite　a　bridge；

and　the　nostrils　opened　downward。　　Her　incisors　were

not　large；　nor　was　her　upper　lip　long　and　down…hanging；

nor　her　lower　lip　protruding。　　She　was　not　very　hairy；

except　on　the　outsides　of　arms　and　legs　and　across　the

shoulders；　and　while　she　was　thin…hipped；　her　calves

were　not　twisted　and　gnarly。



I　have　often　wondered；　looking　back　upon　her　from　the

twentieth　century　through　the　medium　of　my　dreams；　and

it　has　always　occurred　to　me　that　possibly　she　may　have

been　related　to　the　Fire　People。　　Her　father；　or

mother；　might　well　have　come　from　that　higher　stock。

While　such　things　were　not　common；　still　they　did

occur；　and　I　have　seen　the　proof　of　them　with　my　own

eyes；　even　to　the　extent　of　members　of　the　horde

turning　renegade　and　going　to　live　with　the　Tree

People。



All　of　which　is　neither　here　nor　there。　　The　Swift　One

was　radically　different　from　any　of　the　females　of　the

horde；　and　I　had　a　liking　for　her　from　the　first。　　Her

mildness　and　gentleness　attracted　me。　　She　was　never

rough；　and　she　never　fought。　　She　always　ran　away；　and

right　here　may　be　noted　the　significance　of　the　naming

of　her。　　She　was　a　better　climber　than　Lop…Ear　or　I。

When　we　played　tag　we　could　never　catch　her　except　by

accident；　while　she　could　catch　us　at　will。　　She　was

remarkably　swift　in　all　her　movements；　and　she　had　a

genius　for　judging　distances　that　was　equalled　only　by

her　daring。　　Excessively　timid　in　all　other　matters；

she　was　without　fear　when　it　came　to　climbing　or

running　through　the　trees；　and　Lop…Ear　and　I　were

awkward　and　lumbering　and　cowardly　in　comparison。



She　was　an　orphan。　　We　never　saw　her　with　any　one；　and

there　was　no　telling　how　long　she　had　lived　alone　in

the　world。　　She　must　have　learned　early　in　her　helpless

childhood　that　safety　lay　only　in　flight。　　She　was　very

wise　and　very　discreet。　　It　became　a　sort　of　game　with

Lop…Ear　and　me　to　try　to　find　where　she　lived。　　It　was

certain　that　she　had　a　tree…shelter　somewhere；　and　not

very　far　away；　but　trail　her　as　we　would；　we　could

never　find　it。　　She　was　willing　enough　to　join　with　us

at　play　in　the　day…time；　but　the　secret　of　her

abiding…place　she　guarded　jealously。







CHAPTER　XI





It　must　be　remembered　that　the　description　I　have　just

given　of　the　Swift　One　is　not　the　description　that

would　have　been　given　by　Big…Tooth；　my　other　self　of　my

dreams；　my　prehistoric　ancestor。　It　is　by　the　medium　of

my　dreams　that　I；　the　modern　man；　look　through　the　eyes

of　Big…Tooth　and　see。



And　so　it　is　with　much　that　I　narrate　of　the　events　of

that　far…off　time。　　There　is　a　duality　about　my

impressions　that　is　too　confusing　to　inflict　upon　my

readers。　　I　shall　merely　pause　here　in　my　narrative　to

indicate　this　duality；　this　perplexing　mixing　of

personality。　　It　is　I；　the　modern；　who　look　back　across

the　centuries　and　weigh　and　analyze　the　emotions　and

motives　of　Big…Tooth；　my　other　self。　　He　did　not

bother　to　weigh　and　analyze。　　He　was　simplicity　itself。

He　just　lived　events；　without　ever　pondering　why　he

lived　them　in　his　particular　and　often　erratic　way。



As　I；　my　real　self；　grew　older；　I　entered　more　and　more

into　the　substance　of　my　dreams。　　One　may　dream；　and

even　in　the　midst　of　the　dream　be　aware　that　he　is

dreaming；　and　if　the　dream　be　bad；　comfort　himself　with

the　thought　that　it　is　only　a　dream。　　This　is　a　common

experience　with　all　of　us。　　And　so　it　was　that　I；　the

modern；　often　entered　into　my　dreaming；　and　in　the

consequent　strange　dual　personality　was　both　actor　and

spectator。　　And　right　often　have　I；　the　modern；　been

perturbed　and　vexed　by　the　foolishness；　illogic；

obtuseness；　and　general　all…round　stupendous　stupidity

of　myself；　the　primitive。



And　one　thing　more；　before　I　end　this　digression。　　Have

you　ever　dreamed　that　you　dreamed？　Dogs　dream；　horses

dream；　all　animals　dream。　　In　Big…Tooth's　day　the

half…men　dreamed；　and　when　the　dreams　were　bad　they

howled　in　their　sleep。　　Now　I；　the　modern；　have　lain

down　with　Big…Tooth　and　dreamed　his　dreams。



This　is　getting　almost　beyond　the　grip　of　the

intellect；　I　know；　but　I　do　know　that　I　have　done　this

thing。　　And　let　me　tell　you　that　the　fly