Chapter Four.
The Journey.
One.
All the rest of the day they followed the river, looking for a place where it was shallow enough for them to cross without serious danger of drowning. They did not know how to swim. For their supper they had only the rabbit. They ate it sitting on the bluff, with their backs to each other so they could watch in every direction for signs of danger. When the shadow of the bluff grew long across the meadows, Limberleg said:—
“Darkness will soon be upon us. Where are we going to sleep?”
“We won’t sleep in a cave anyway,” said Hawk-Eye, “even if we could find one. We might find the cave bear at home in it. In that case, we should probably spend the night in his stomach, and I am sure that would be too crowded to be comfortable.”
“We can’t spend the night on the ground surely,” said Limberleg. “Or we might wake up in the stomach of old Sabre-tooth instead.” This was just their way of joking, because I never heard of any one waking up after being swallowed, except Jonah and Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother. And of course, this story happened long before either Jonah or Red Riding Hood or her grandmother did.
Hawk-Eye took out his flint knife. I almost said he took it out of his pocket, because it seems queer to think of a man without pockets. Of course, he didn’t really have any, though. The flint knife was fastened to his belt by a thong.
“Go and find all the grape-vines you can,” he said. Limberleg and the Twins flew back into the forest to search for vines. There were plenty of them, and they pulled up a great heap of long, tough stems, and
brought them back to Hawk-Eye. Hawk-Eye had another bunch which he had cut. On the bluff overlooking the valley there was a great oak tree with giant branches spreading in every direction.
“We’ll sleep here,” said Hawk-Eye. “Nothing can harm us unless a wildcat or some such climbing creature should visit us, and I think I could make him wish he
hadn’t come. I shall have my spear beside me and shall sleep on the lower limbs.”
“Shall we roost like the birds?” asked Firefly anxiously.
Limberleg laughed, and took a leap into the air, and caught one of the branches. She swung herself into the tree and ran along the branch to the great thick trunk.
“Hand up the vines,” she called down, “and I will show you how we will roost.” Hawk-Eye tossed them up to her. She
climbed higher in the tree and found a place where two limbs came together like those shown in the picture: She wove the vines back and forth over the two branches until she had made a rough net-work like a very coarse hammock.
“Now, up you come,” she called to Firefly, “and I will put you to bed.”
Firefly climbed the tree. This was the way she went upstairs to bed.
Limberleg took off the wolf-skin which was still tied over her shoulders, and spread it over the vine hammock. Then Firefly crawled into her bed. Her mother took the leather thong which had been around the wolf-skin and tied her securely to one of the limbs with it. That was her way of tucking her in so that she would not fall out of bed. She didn’t hear her say her prayers, because in those days they didn’t know there was anything to pray to, unless it was to giants, or the spirits of water or of fire, or of thunder and lightning. They prayed to them sometimes when they were frightened. I don’t believe she kissed her good night, either. There was not much kissing in those days.
When Firefly was safely stowed away, Limberleg climbed farther up the tree to find a place for Firetop. But he had already found one for himself and was beginning to make his bed. When he was swung from his branches like a big cocoon, Hawk-Eye and Limberleg made themselves as comfortable as they could on the lower limbs of the tree. The western sky was all aflame with yellow and red, as they settled themselves for the night, and the birds sang them to sleep.
Two.
When Firetop opened his eyes the next morning, he couldn’t think where he was. He tried to flop over, as he could so easily do when sleeping on his wolf-skins in the cave. But he found himself securely tied. He lifted his head and looked out. The sun was just rising over the blue hills across the river. He looked down through the tree-branches to see his father and mother.
They were not there! For a moment he thought perhaps he had dreamed it all. “I often go to all sorts of strange places when I am asleep,” he said to himself. “Pretty soon I’ll wake up in the cave.” He waited to wake up, but he didn’t wake up. He kept right on being out of doors and up a tree, and his parents kept on being gone. Then he remembered all about everything.
He called to Firefly, “Are you there?”
She answered in a sleepy voice, “Yes.”
“Are you sure?” Firetop called back; “because Father and Mother aren’t.”
“Aren’t what?” said Firefly, getting wider awake.
“Aren’t there,” Firetop answered.
Firefly lifted her head and tried to roll over. If she had not been tied she would have rolled out of bed. She looked down, too. The branches were certainly empty.
What would you do if you were to wake up in the morning and find yourself tied in bed and your father and mother gone and no breakfast ready? Well, they did just the same thing! They simply yelled. They had good strong lungs and they made a great deal of noise. When they stopped, they heard a distant shout that sounded like their own. “Ow, ow, ow.” It came back to them from two different directions.
“That’s not Father’s voice,” said Firetop.
“Nor Mother’s,” said Firefly.
“It’s somebody’s. It must be theirs. Let’s call again,” said Firetop.
They nearly split their throats that time. “Ow, ow, ow,” they screamed, and “Ow, ow, ow,” came back from the forest and the river.
“It must be the spirits of the water and the trees, mocking us,” said Firetop. “It sounded just like us.”
You see, they did not know what an echo was.
“I’m scared,” said Firefly.
“I am too, a little,” Firetop admitted.
“Let’s not call any more. If we keep still, maybe the spirits won’t find us,” whispered Firefly.
They snuggled down in the wolf-skins and kept very still. By and by they heard a crashing sound in the underbrush not far away. They were stiff with fright. They didn’t dare even to breathe. Then came a loud cry, “Hoo, hoo, hooooooo,” and the crashing noise came nearer. It came right under their tree. Then somebody’s voice called, “Are you awake, little red foxes, up in the tree?”
Two red heads instantly popped over the edge of the tree beds, and two voices cried out something that meant, “Oh, we’re so glad that you’ve come back.”
Limberleg climbed the tree and untied the children. It took them about two seconds to get to the ground, and they didn’t fall down either. There under the tree they found Hawk-Eye. He was preparing breakfast. He and Limberleg had gone down to the river-bank very early and had found a whole colony of turtles. They had brought home four turtle-eggs apiece. If I were an arithmetic, I should ask how many eggs there were! It would have been of no use to ask the Twins. Neither they nor their father and mother could have told you. They hadn’t any of them learned to count that far. Nobody could in those days.
They made short work of the eggs, even if they couldn’t add or multiply or divide. When they had finished eating them, they strapped their skins on their shoulders once more and started up the river. All the morning they tramped steadily along, looking for a good place to ford it. The sun was already in the west, when suddenly Limberleg stopped at a turn in the bluff.
“See, see,” she cried. “Two rivers.” They all stopped and looked. The river forked at that point, or rather two smaller streams came together making one big one.
There was a high V-shaped point of land between the two streams.
“Now we can cross,” cried Limberleg, joyfully. She led the way, running and leaping down the bluffs to the river’s edge. The banks at this point were sandy and the
river full of stones. The current was swift, but the water was clear and not very deep. Limberleg ran out on the stones.
“Come,” she called to the Twins. “Follow close after me.” She leaped lightly over the stones to the middle of the stream, where the river was deepest. The children followed part way; then Firetop stood still on one of the stones and looked at the swirling water. Firefly was on the next stone behind him. The stone in front looked a long way off to Firetop.
“I can’t jump so far,” he squealed.
“I can’t either,” wailed Firefly. “My legs aren’t long enough.”
“Jump,” cried Limberleg, impatiently.
“We can’t,” shouted the Twins, beginning to cry.
You see, they were afraid of water, and it really wasn’t much wonder, for they had never even had a real bath in their whole lives. I’ve known children to feel just the same way about water in these days. They can’t bear it, even on a wash-cloth.
Hawk-Eye was on the stone behind them. “Jump,” he shouted, “or I’ll give you something to cry for.” And that was the very first time that any parent ever said that about giving them something to cry for, and they’ve been saying it ever since, to my personal knowledge.
You see that, with Limberleg in front calling “Jump” and Hawk-Eye behind saying such alarming things, the Twins were in a tight place. There was nothing to do but jump. So Firetop took a flying leap, and Firefly followed him. Unluckily she came just a little too soon. She jumped on to Firetop. His feet flew out from under him, he lost his footing on the stone, and they both rolled into the cold water.
The crying they had done before wasn’t anything to what they did then, I can tell you. That is, as soon as their heads were out of the water again.
They might have been carried away by the current, if Hawk-Eye hadn’t instantly thrown his spear across to the farther shore and jumped in after them. He seized one of them with each hand and waded with them to land. Then he picked up his spear again from the ground where it had fallen.
If you will believe me, the Twins held tight to their own little spears all the time, even when they were under the water! It was all they had to hold to, to be sure, and besides, they loved those spears more than
we love dolls and roller skates and marbles and baseball, all put together.
Limberleg laughed at the dripping little figures.
“You look like a pair of water-rats,” she cried. The Twins could not see anything funny in that. Little streams of water trickled down their backs, and they didn’t like it. The rock that was on the point of land between the two rivers was not far away from the place where they landed.
“Let’s go to the top,” said Limberleg to the Twins. “That will warm you up.”
It was quite a steep climb, and I wish you could see what they saw from that summit. They could look a long way up each of the two rivers and a long way down the big one. There were deep, silent woods along the shores. They looked back on the land between the two streams. They were all beginning to be hungry again by this time, and they hoped that they might see their supper wandering about somewhere over the rocks.
“We’ll see who has the sharpest eyes,” said Limberleg.
“I see something white right now, way down there in the bushes,” said Firefly. “It’s bouncing around.”
“I see it, too,” said Hawk-Eye. “It’s the tail of a deer. There’s a herd down there!” Hawk-Eye started down the rocks in a hurry. “I’ll not be gone long,” he called back to Limberleg. “Get a fire started before I come back.”
Limberleg and the Twins watched Hawk-Eye until he disappeared in the underbrush. Then she and the children began to gather wood for the fire. Firetop found a piece of hard wood that was round. Limberleg pointed the end of it with her flint knife. Then they hunted for a piece of soft wood. In the soft wood Limberleg made a little hollow place that would fit the end of the stick.
“Now, Firefly, you stay with me,” said she. “I want you to gather little tendrils of dry moss and watch beside me while I twirl the stick. The moment I tell you to, you must drop little pieces of dry moss into the hollow place in the wood. Firetop, you gather a great heap of sticks here on top of the rock.” Limberleg knelt on the edge of the rock and began to twirl the stick between her hands. As she twirled she mumbled a prayer to the fire god.
Firefly held the soft wood firmly in place
while Limberleg worked. She twirled and twirled until a tiny thread of smoke began to curl from the hollow. “Drop in the moss,” cried Limberleg. The smoke grew thicker. Limberleg worked faster and faster. Soon a tiny flame burst forth. Firefly fed the flame with the dried moss until it was big enough to burn little twigs and dead leaves. Soon a brisk fire was burning. Firetop had brought a great pile of wood to the rock, and had also found some long willow branches to use in broiling meat.
“The fire is ready, but where is the food?” said Firefly. It was not long in coming. Hawk-Eye soon appeared climbing up the rock with a young doe on his shoulder. He and Limberleg skinned it and cut up the meat, and they had all the broiled venison they could possibly eat for supper.
“We shall have to spend the night here,” said Hawk-Eye, when they couldn’t eat any more. “We couldn’t find a better place anyway. There is water around the rock except on the land side. We’ll keep the fire bright, and we shall be just as safe as if we were in the cave.”
Hawk-Eye spread the fire in a long line across the land side of the rock. He built a sort of wall of sticks and branches to feed it, and all night long it blazed and smouldered. They spread their skins on the rock and slept peacefully in its warm glow.
The next morning dawned bright and clear, and the whole family got up with the birds. They had more venison for breakfast, and when that was out of the way, Hawk-Eye said: “We’d better get across the other river early. There’s no telling how far we may have to go to-day, or what we may find on the way.”
“I hate to leave this place,” cried Firefly, “it’s so beautiful, and I am sure there is lots of game here.”
“I hate to leave the doe-skin behind,” said Limberleg, “but of course I can’t dry and stretch and cure it while we are travelling.”
“We can carry enough meat to last us all day,” said Hawk-Eye, “and that will save lots of time. We won’t have to stop to hunt for our dinner.”
He tied a great piece of meat over the shoulders of Firetop and Firefly and Limberleg, and took the biggest piece on his own back, and off they started.
Three.
It would take too long to tell you all about what a time they had getting across the river. It was deeper than the first one they crossed, and if it hadn’t been for a lucky accident, they might never have got across at all. When they came to the water’s edge, Firetop saw some turtles sunning themselves on a log a little way down the stream. The log had floated down the river and had caught against a dead branch that stuck out of the water. They were not so afraid of the water now they had really been in it.
Firetop thought it would be great fun to catch a turtle. He pointed them out to Firefly. “Come on,” was all he said, but she knew what it meant, and at once the two children waded quietly out toward the log. Wading in was altogether different from having to tumble in, anyway. The turtles saw them coming, and just as the Twins reached the log, they slid off into the water. One of them found one of Firetop’s big toes in the mud, and bit it.
Firetop screamed and tried to get away. Firefly didn’t know what was the matter, but she screamed too on general principles, and they both grabbed at the log and tried to climb on to it. The log rolled over and got loose from the branch that held it and started down-stream, with both children clinging to it and yelling. They couldn’t get up on it because it kept turning over,
but they held on because it was the only thing there was to hold on to, and Firetop kept kicking with all his might to get away from the turtle. Firefly did some kicking, too, because she was trying to find the bottom with her feet and there wasn’t any bottom there. The current was not very swift at this point, and though they didn’t know it, the children were really swimming with their legs, and they made the log go toward the other shore.
While all of this was happening, where do you suppose Hawk-Eye and Limberleg were? They were chasing after them as fast as they could go, but the children had quite a start and got farther away every minute. The water was almost over Limberleg’s head, and you know how hard it is to walk in deep water. Besides, they had the meat. The meat that the Twins were carrying got loose in their struggles and fell off in the water. Perhaps the turtle saw it and decided that it was better eating than Firetop’s toe, or maybe he got homesick. I can’t tell about that, but anyway he let go. The Twins kept on reaching for the bottom and kicking with all their might and screaming, too, and before long the log ran its nose into the farther bank and they seized the branches of a willow tree that hung over the water and pulled themselves up on the shore.
In a moment Hawk-Eye and Limberleg came tearing up the river-bank to them. They had come straight across the river, while the children had been carried some distance by the current. You can just think how glad they all were when they found that they were across and not a single one of them had been drowned.
When Firetop told about the turtle, Hawk-Eye laughed and laughed. Limberleg laughed a little, too. Firetop felt pretty sorry for himself, but he wasn’t really hurt, and in half an hour he had forgotten to limp.
