Gonch acquired more experience of the Mammoth Man’s peculiar whims, other than his friendship for the Hairy Mammoth and Woolly Rhinoceros. He gained this when he and Kutnar went down into the valley together and mingled with the Mousterian cave-men. The game laws or ban on needless slaughter of which Pic had spoken, Gonch had hitherto considered as the fancy of a disordered mind. Now to his astonishment, he found them not only a reality but scrupulously observed by one and all, although he saw no sign of the authority that enforced them. The Mousterians killed no more than sufficient for their wants and what they did kill was used to the best advantage. Nothing was wasted. The flesh served as food and the hides were set aside to be used as clothing during the cold season. Even the limb bones were split open for the juicy marrow they contained.
It was a strange community, this valley of the Vézère; too peaceful to suit Gonch. The cave-men themselves rarely fought or killed each other. Naturally this put a premium on human flesh, another drawback from the Muskman’s point of view; and he blamed it all on the mad Mammoth Man who should have attended strictly to his flint-working instead of imbuing the whole community with his crazy notions.
Gonch learned something more that surprised him and this concerned Kutnar. The latter spent most of his time with the men, an unusual proceeding, for boys were usually left with the women when the men went forth on hunting or other expeditions. Kutnar, however, seemed to enjoy special privileges. He was a strong, active lad, but a boy nevertheless and Gonch marvelled that men would tolerate his taking part in their affairs. It must be that as son of the master flint-worker, he was an extraordinarily privileged youth. Then, too, he went about unarmed; so it appeared, for he bore nothing but his pouch of pebbles and the rawhide thong wound about his waist. The hunters were walking across the meadow when a hare sprang up beneath their feet, bounded away several rods and then sat bolt upright. At a signal from the leader of the band, all stopped. The man beckoned to Kutnar. “Your turn now,” and then as the boy came forward, all stood at attention, apparently much interested in what was about to happen.
While Gonch looked curiously on, wondering what new and strange spectacle was to be presented, Kutnar unwound the thong from his waist and held it dangling with the two ends in his right hand. Taking a pebble from his pouch he set it in the rawhide’s hanging fold; then with a whispered “Stand clear” he whirled thong and pebble several times about his shoulders and let fly. So swiftly sped the stone that no eye could follow it. Gonch could not observe that anything in particular had happened until one of the hunters ran forward and picked up the hare, no longer sitting upright but kicking its last upon the green meadow grass.
“A chance shot,” thought Gonch who by this time had arrived at some understanding of this new method of stone-throwing. Nevertheless the sling was a novelty and the lad had displayed much skill in its use. Gonch went closer to examine it. Stones were usually hurled from the hand or by a throwing-stick, never from a strip of hide.
“Fling-string,” he muttered scornfully. “It was a lucky cast. The stone might fly anywhere except to the mark meant for it.”
But Gonch was mistaken. What Kutnar had done, he could do again, not once but many times. Half a dozen more hares and several rabbits fell before his unerring aim and then the hunters returned homeward with their bag, for the game-laws applied to all animals, small as well as large and what they or rather Kutnar had killed was sufficient for their immediate needs. On the way back, Gonch’s opinion of Kutnar and his sling had undergone a profound change. It was a boy’s weapon but one which a grown man could respect. The youth’s skill with it was beyond the stretch of one’s imagination. “The lad is a marvel,” thought Gonch. “He has killed enough food for a dozen men,” and he had a wholesome respect after that, not only for the fling-string as he called it, but the arm and eye that could send the pebble so straight and swiftly to its mark.
But the most amazing thing of all, he was to discover when he found how intimate Kutnar was with the friendly Mammoth and Rhinoceros. He heard Kutnar one day jabbering away to the two, apparently in response to their squeals and grunts.
“Why do you make those noises?” asked Gonch.
“Wulli and Hairi don’t know the man-language but I know theirs. My father taught it to me and we can understand each other perfectly,” explained the boy.