The bone was polished and notched on one end. It was strangely hard and heavy. The notched end in particular seemed most peculiar. Pic regarded it curiously.
“That mark was not made by a lion’s tooth,” he reasoned. “The bone has been neither roughly scratched nor chewed, nor would the brute’s tongue have smoothed it down so nicely.”
His thoughts were now centered upon the bone fragment. He had forgotten the flints entirely.
The bone was in his right hand; the blade which he had been examining, still remained in his left. More by accident than design, he set the notched end of the bone against one edge of the flint and pressed strongly downward. A tiny chip flew off. More astounding things may have happened in the world but not to the Ape Boy of Moustier. A look of bewilderment spread over his face. He pressed again with the same result.
Pic Discovers the Use of the Bone Tool
A dim ray rapidly growing broader and brighter, diffused its light through the Ape Boy’s brain. The significance of his discovery cannot be overestimated, simple though it seems. The secret of the Terrace Men was revealed—the art of retouching hammered flints. Pic had reached his goal at last simply because of a piece of bone found buried with the treasure. The treasure was in reality the bone itself—the finishing tool of the Terrace flint-worker wherewith the final chipping operation was accomplished. With it, he pressed—not hammered—off the smaller chips and finished the edges straight and keen. No danger of fracturing even the longest and thinnest blade by this method. The tiny flakes flew as readily under pressure of the bone tool as did the larger ones beneath the blows of the hammer-stone.
It was simple enough when one knew how to do it. Pic wondered why he had not thought of it before. The bone tool was the key to the whole art. His cup of joy so nearly empty, was now filled to overflowing. He beamed; he smiled until his mouth threatened to split from ear to ear. Never was a man or woman’s happiness more complete. In his ecstasy, the hard rock beneath him felt like a seat among the clouds.
And now with his discovery of the lost art, came a desire to put that art to a practical test. Knowledge meant power if used to good purpose. Pic determined to adapt the much he had learned to his own ends.