XXII
The hunt was ended. The roe-buck had breathed his last and lay where he had fallen with glazed eyes staring at the sky. The Cave-men were gathered about the body, preparing to remove the skin and quarter the carcass for transport across the meadows.
While his followers were thus engaged, the burly Mousterian chieftain withdrew to the neighboring stream to cool his heated brow and rest himself. The chase had been a hard one but he was in rare humor nevertheless. His dart had been the first to reach its mark; and after the long chase, his ax had dealt the finishing stroke. As he sat upon the bank gazing at the water below him, his thoughts were rudely disturbed by a loud “Hi-yo!” coming from across the stream. He looked up and saw a man standing on the opposite bank. The stranger shouted again and waved an arm. The hunters now came running up to obtain a better view of the newcomer.
“Who is it?” asked one.
“If I had not with my own eyes seen him fall a victim to the Mammoth and Rhinoceros, I would say it was the Ape Boy,” said another.
The burly chief glared fiercely at the one who had just spoken.
“Ape Boy? Bah! Let no man speak that name again if he values his own beast-hide. He is Pic, Killer of the Bison. Remember it well.”
“Killer of the Mammoth and Rhinoceros too,” added the man thus chided. “How else could he return to us alive?”
Meanwhile the stranger was wading and swimming across the stream. The hunters gazed at him in awe as he drew nearer and nearer. He emerged at last, climbed the bank and shook the dripping water from his body.