“Men have died for even less,” he soliloquized. “I roamed the world over to find this piece of bone—the Terrace Man’s finishing tool. Others may be doing the same. Yes that’s it; I am sure of it now,” and he scowled and gnashed his teeth in a way that would have horrified Gonch, had he been there to see.
For a time, Pic remained squatting motionless; finally he rose to his feet, piled more wood upon the fire and made other elaborate preparations as if for departure, shouldering his ax and gazing long and earnestly down the valley as though there were something there that required his attention. He gathered up his flint-flakes and took them to the cave and last of all, secreted the bone tool near the cliff wall beneath a flat stone. This latter maneuver was conducted mysteriously and with much deliberation. When all was arranged to his satisfaction, he swung his ax over his right shoulder and descended the causeway to the valley below.
The ledge was now deserted. Gonch could see the master weapon maker sauntering leisurely down the causeway. He had also seen his host conceal something beneath a flat stone near the foot of the cliffs. It must be something valuable judging from the elaborate precautions taken to hide it from view. It might be the flint-worker’s finishing tool. If so, this was an opportunity not to be missed.
The cliff-wall overlooking the ledge was too steep and smooth for a speedy descent, so Gonch sought the rougher and more sloping northeast side, the one opposite that which Pic was descending. This shut off his view of the latter and not until he reached the level of the cave-ledge, could he again obtain a glimpse of the causeway and anyone who might be near the cave. He saw no one. Pic had vanished and no doubt was making his way down the valley along the base of the Rock.
Feeling assured on this point and convinced that he was alone and safe from detection, Gonch crept towards the flat stone lying at the foot of the cliff wall, near the mouth of the cave.
His hand was now clutching the stone. Another second and the latter would have been raised disclosing what lay beneath, when a rustling sounded at the cave-mouth. Gonch turned quickly, then sank down upon the threshold in an agony of dread, for there stood Pic, filling the cave-mouth with his great bulk and gazing down upon the Muskman with a look of withering scorn.
“I lost something, I—” stammered Gonch but the other cut him short.
“You lie,” roared Pic, his face becoming rapidly convulsed with rage. “You lie and have lied ever since you came here. I know you now and why you came. To the muck with you and your filthy smell. Your whole body reeks with carrion. Your welcome is at an end, imposter. Begone.”
“But—you mistake,” protested the Muskman, summoning fresh courage on finding his life in no immediate danger. Pic’s ire only increased. His face became that of a demon.
“You are alive now,” he thundered. “Soon you Will not be. Go at once. If you are found in the valley after the next sunrise, your friends the hyenas will be cracking your bones”; and Pic spat upon the cringing Muskman as he would have spat upon a snake.