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leaped　straight　up　into　the　air；　catching　an

overhanging　branch　with　her　hands。　　The　next　instant；

with　clashing　tusks；　the　boar　drove　past　underneath。

He　had　recovered　from　his　surprise　and　sprung　forward；

emitting　a　squeal　that　was　almost　a　trumpeting。　　At　any

rate　it　was　a　call；　for　it　was　followed　by　the　rushing

of　bodies　through　the　ferns　and　brush　from　all

directions。



From　every　side　wild　hogs　dashed　into　the　open　spacea

score　of　them。　　But　my　mother　swung　over　the　top　of　a

thick　limb；　a　dozen　feet　from　the　ground；　and；　still

holding　on　to　her；　we　perched　there　in　safety。　　She　was

very　excited。　　She　chattered　and　screamed；　and　scolded

down　at　the　bristling；　tooth…gnashing　circle　that　had

gathered　beneath。　　I；　too；　trembling；　peered　down　at

the　angry　beasts　and　did　my　best　to　imitate　my　mother's

cries。



From　the　distance　came　similar　cries；　only　pitched

deeper；　into　a　sort　of　roaring　bass。　　These　grew

momentarily　louder；　and　soon　I　saw　him　approaching；　my

fatherat　least；　by　all　the　evidence　of　the　times；　I

am　driven　to　conclude　that　he　was　my　father。



He　was　not　an　extremely　prepossessing　father；　as

fathers　go。　　He　seemed　half　man；　and　half　ape；　and　yet

not　ape；　and　not　yet　man。　I　fail　to　describe　him。

There　is　nothing　like　him　to…day　on　the　earth；　under

the　earth；　nor　in　the　earth。　　He　was　a　large　man　in　his

day；　and　he　must　have　weighed　all　of　a　hundred　and

thirty　pounds。　　His　face　was　broad　and　flat；　and　the

eyebrows　over…hung　the　eyes。　　The　eyes　themselves　were

small；　deep…set；　and　close　together。　　He　had

practically　no　nose　at　all。　　It　was　squat　and　broad；

apparently　with…out　any　bridge；　while　the　nostrils　were

like　two　holes　in　the　face；　opening　outward　instead　of

down。



The　forehead　slanted　back　from　the　eyes；　and　the　hair

began　right　at　the　eyes　and　ran　up　over　the　head。　　The

head　itself　was　preposterously　small　and　was　supported

on　an　equally　preposterous；　thick；　short　neck。



There　was　an　elemental　economy　about　his　bodyas　was

there　about　all　our　bodies。　　The　chest　was　deep；　it　is

true；　cavernously　deep；　but　there　were　no　full…swelling

muscles；　no　wide…spreading　shoulders；　no　clean…limbed

straightness；　no　generous　symmetry　of　outline。　　It

represented　strength；　that　body　of　my　father's；

strength　without　beauty；　ferocious；　primordial

strength；　made　to　clutch　and　gripe　and　rend　and

destroy。



His　hips　were　thin；　and　the　legs；　lean　and　hairy；　were

crooked　and　stringy…muscled。　　In　fact；　my　father's　legs

were　more　like　arms。　They　were　twisted　and　gnarly；　and

with　scarcely　the　semblance　of　the　full　meaty　calf　such

as　graces　your　leg　and　mine。　　I　remember　he　could　not

walk　on　the　flat　of　his　foot。　　This　was　because　it　was

a　prehensile　foot；　more　like　a　hand　than　a　foot。　　The

great　toe；　instead　of　being　in　line　with　the　other

toes；　opposed　them；　like　a　thumb；　and　its　opposition　to

the　other　toes　was　what　enabled　him　to　get　a　grip　with

his　foot。　　This　was　why　he　could　not　walk　on　the　flat

of　his　foot。



But　his　appearance　was　no　more　unusual　than　the　manner

of　his　coming；　there　to　my　mother　and　me　as　we　perched

above　the　angry　wild　pigs。　　He　came　through　the　trees；

leaping　from　limb　to　limb　and　from　tree　to　tree；　and　he

came　swiftly。　　I　can　see　him　now；　in　my　wake…a…day

life；　as　I　write　this；　swinging　along　through　the

trees；　a　four…handed；　hairy　creature；　howling　with

rage；　pausing　now　and　again　to　beat　his　chest　with　his

clenched　fist；　leaping　ten…and…fifteen…foot　gaps；

catching　a　branch　with　one　hand　and　swinging　on　across

another　gap　to　catch　with　his　other　hand　and　go　on；

never　hesitating；　never　at　a　loss　as　to　how　to　proceed

on　his　arboreal　way。



And　as　I　watched　him　I　felt　in　my　own　being；　in　my　very

muscles　themselves；　the　surge　and　thrill　of　desire　to

go　leaping　from　bough　to　bough；　and　I　felt　also　the

guarantee　of　the　latent　power　in　that　being　and　in

those　muscles　of　mine。　　And　why　not？　Little　boys　watch

their　fathers　swing　axes　and　fell　trees；　and　feel　in

themselves　that　some　day　they；　too；　will　swing　axes　and

fell　trees。　　And　so　with　me。　　The　life　that　was　in　me

was　constituted　to　do　what　my　father　did；　and　it

whispered　to　me　secretly　and　ambitiously　of　aerial

paths　and　forest　flights。



At　last　my　father　joined　us。　　He　was　extremely　angry。

I　remember　the　out…thrust　of　his　protruding　underlip　as

he　glared　down　at　the　wild　pigs。　　He　snarled　something

like　a　dog；　and　I　remember　that　his　eye…teeth　were

large；　like　fangs；　and　that　they　impressed　me

tremendously。



His　conduct　served　only　the　more　to　infuriate　the　pigs。

He　broke　off　twigs　and　small　branches　and　flung　them

down　upon　our　enemies。　He　even　hung　by　one　hand；

tantalizingly　just　beyond　reach；　and　mocked　them　as

they　gnashed　their　tusks　with　impotent　rage。　　Not

content　with　this；　he　broke　off　a　stout　branch；　and；

holding　on　with　one　hand　and　foot；　jabbed　the

infuriated　beasts　in　the　sides　and　whacked　them　across

their　noses。　Needless　to　state；　my　mother　and　I　enjoyed

the　sport。



But　one　tires　of　all　good　things；　and　in　the　end；　my

father；　chuckling　maliciously　the　while；　led　the　way

across　the　trees。　Now　it　was　that　my　ambitions　ebbed

away；　and　I　became　timid；　holding　tightly　to　my　mother

as　she　climbed　and　swung　through　space。　　I　remember

when　the　branch　broke　with　her　weight。　　She　had　made　a

wide　leap；　and　with　the　snap　of　the　wood　I　was

overwhelmed　with　the　sickening　consciousness　of　falling

through　space；　the　pair　of　us。　　The　forest　and　the

sunshine　on　the　rustling　leaves　vanished　from　my　eyes。

I　had　a　fading　glimpse　of　my　father　abruptly　arresting

his　progress　to　look；　and　then　all　was　blackness。



The　next　moment　I　was　awake；　in　my　sheeted　bed；

sweating；　trembling；　nauseated。　　The　window　was　up；　and

a　cool　air　was　blowing　through　the　room。　　The

night…lamp　was　burning　calmly。　　And　because　of　this　I

take　it　that　the　wild　pigs　did　not　get　us；　that　we

never　fetched　bottom；　else　I　should　not　be　here　now；　a

thousand　centuries　after；　to　remember　the　event。



And　now　put　yourself　in　my　place　for　a　moment。　　Walk

with　me　a　bit　in　my　tender　childhood；　bed　with　me　a

night　and　imagine　yourself　dreaming　such

incomprehensible　horrors。　　Remember　I　was　an

inexperienced　child。　　I　had　never　seen　a　wild　boar　in

my　life。　For　that　matter　I　had　never　seen　a

domesticated　pig。　　The　nearest　approach　to　one　that　I

had　seen　was　breakfast　bacon　sizzling　in　its　fat。　　And

yet　here；　real　as　life；　wild　boars　dashed　through　my

dreams；　and　I；　with　fantastic　parents；　swung　through

the　lofty　tree…spaces。



Do　you　wonder　that　I　was　frightened　and　oppressed　by　my

nightmare…ridden　nights？　　I　was　accursed。　　And；　worst

of　all；　I　was　afraid　to　tell。　　I　do　not　know　why；

except　that　I　had　a　feeling　of　guilt；　though　I　knew　no

better　of　what　I　was　guilty。　　So　it　was；　through　long

years；　that　I　suffered　in　silence；　until　I　came　to

man's　estate　and　learned　the　why　and　wherefore　of　my

dreams。







CHAPTER　IV





There　is　one　puzzling　thing　about　these　prehistoric

memories　of　mine。　　It　is　the　vagueness　of　the　time

element。　　I　lo　not　always　know　the　order　of　events；or

can　I　tell；　between　some　events；　whether　one；　two；　or

four　or　five　years　have　elapsed。　　I　can　only　roughly

tell　the　passage　of　time　by　judging　the　changes　in　the

appearance　and　pursuits　of　my　fellows。



Also；　I　can　apply　the　logic　of　events　to　the　various

happenings。　For　instance；　there　is　no　doubt　whatever

that　my　mother　and　I　were　treed　by　the　wild　pigs　and

fled　and　fell　in　the　days　before　I　made　the

acquaintance　of　Lop…Ear；　who　became　what　I　may　call　my

boyhood　chum。　　And　it　is　just　as　conclusive　that

between　these　two　periods　I　must　have　left　my　mother。



I　have　no　memory　of　my　father　than　the　one　I　have

given。　　Never；　in　the　years　that　followed；　did　he

reappear。　　And　from　my　knowledge　of　the　times；　the　only

explanation　possible　lies　in　that　he　perished　shortly

after　the　adventure　with　the　wild　pigs。　　That　it　must

have　been　an　untimely　end；　there　is　no　discussion。　　He

was　in　full　vigor；　and　only　sudden　and　violent　death

could　have　taken　him　off。　　But　I　know　not　the　manner　of

his　goingwhether　he　was　drowned　in　the　river；　or　was

swallowed　by　a　snake；　or　went　into　the　stomach　of　old

Saber…Tooth；　the　tiger；　is　beyond　my　knowledge。



For　know　that　I　remember　only　the　things　I　saw　myself；

with　my　own　eyes；　in　those　prehistoric　days。　　If　my

mother　knew　my　father's　end；　she　never　told　me。　　For

that　matter　I　doubt　if　she　had　a　vocabulary　adequate　to

convey　such　information。　　Perhaps；　all　told；　the　Folk

in　that　day　had　a　vocabulary　of　thirty　or　forty　sounds。



I　call　them　SOUNDS；　rather　than　WORDS；　because　sounds

they　were　primarily。　　They　had　no　fixed　values；　to　be

altered　by　adjectives　and　adverbs。　　These　latter　were

tools　of　speech　not　yet　invented。　Instead　of　qualifying

nouns　or　verbs