“Why Do You Beat Those Rocks Together?” The Mammoth Inquired
“Flint is hard and tough,” was the answer. “Of all stone it is the best for my work. I leave one surface smooth because I know of no other way to make straight, sharp edges. These are turtle-backs; flat and smooth on one surface, chipped round on the other. What do you think of them?”
The great Mammoth gazed helplessly at the flakes and broken chips scattered thickly over the ledge. The Ape Boy’s explanation added but little to his store of knowledge. All rocks seemed to him cold and lifeless objects; sharp and unpleasant to the touch.
“But why beat them together?” he asked much puzzled. “Do you eat them?”
“Eat flints? What an odd question,” the Ape Boy chuckled. “Whoever heard of any man or animal doing anything like that? They are tools and weapons just as I told you. This one,”—he stooped and picked up a large almond-shaped flake—“is an ax-head. That”—pointing to another of no definite form—“is a scraper. Here is another kind”—he selected a broad blade and held it up to the Mammoth; “the finest I have. Do you know what it is?”
Hairi shook his head vigorously. He was growing weary of rocks. Now he knew all that was to be learned of them,—and they were but commonplace things as he could see. His first curiosity was doomed to further disappointment. The Ape Boy pounded flints but did not eat them as the Mammoth half hoped he might. Tools and weapons were beyond his power of understanding. He lost interest.
“Perhaps the little fat one knows,” the Ape Boy continued. “Do you?” and he held the flint in front of Wulli’s nose.
A spasm of rage seized the Rhinoceros on hearing himself addressed in such a disrespectful manner. “Oo-wee! No,” he squealed angrily.