For a moment he was dazed by the position in which he found himself. He lay sprawling in the snow among the bushes, staring at the sky. Far in the distance, he could see the peak of Castillo. The sun setting behind the mountain-top, crowned it with a rubescent halo. The day was nearing its close.
Gonch gnashed his teeth with terrible rage as he remembered why it was he lay there. He, warrior and second man of the Castillan tribe, had been bested by a boy. His humiliation was beyond power to describe. His hate and fury were even worse. He would have given his last drop of life-blood for a chance to grapple again with Kutnar but this opportunity was denied him, for the lad was gone.
“Gonch Recovered by Degrees”
Gonch recovered by degrees. He lifted his head and shoulders, supporting himself in a couchant position upon his elbows. There he rested for a time gathering renewed vigor from the fresh air with which he now filled his lungs. He raised himself to a sitting position. The wind sweeping down upon him from the northeast was biting cold. He shivered. “I will surely die if I stay here much longer,” he thought as he observed the sky’s fading light. He must get back to Castillo somehow and it must be done soon, before sundown. The cave-men might find him, true enough but not before morning. By that time he would be frozen solid and past mentioning. He could almost feel the rending teeth as his mates ripped the flesh from his bones. “Not that—not that!” he whined in an agony of terror. The fear of being eaten gave him strength. He grit his teeth in desperation and was soon crawling through the snow on his hands and knees toward the distant mountain.
It was black dark and the cave-men were snoring out their sleep when the night fire watcher heard cries coming from far down the mountain side. He listened and recognized them as those of a human being, so he went down and found the Muskman crawling upward his laborious way. With the man’s aid, Gonch was brought to the top where he fell exhausted beside the fire. This aroused some of the sleepers and they issued from the cave-entrance to learn what was the matter. At sight of their distressed comrade, they made so much ado that soon the whole tribe was wide awake and stirring. The giant hetman came forth and prodded Gonch with his foot. “You are late,” he grumbled and then looked all about him. “Where is the boy? He went with you. Where is he now?”
“Gone,” the Muskman moaned feebly.
“Gone?” Totan observed his henchman’s torn throat. He howled vindictively as the truth dawned upon him. “And your ax; it too seems to have disappeared. Did boy and ax go together?”