In truth, One Eye looked very much like an ape. His forehead was flat and retreating, his jaw undershot and powerful, and he was covered with matted hair pretty much all over.
His one eye at times was beady black with intelligence, and the next minute it would waver and become plaintive and unreasoning like the eye of a frightened little child. His manner of life was like his eye.
At times he would behave after a cunningly-thought-out schedule, and the next minute he would be doing something that was purely instinctive.
As he sat in the mouth of his cave blinking, and scratching his stomach with a blunt flint, he was revolving a mighty question. One Eye had a daughter.
According to our notions she was very ugly, but the men of the tribe to which One Eye belonged were after her. It was the mating season and she was of suitable age to pair. She looked like her father, but was not so hairy. Her mother had been eaten by wolves when Maku (for that was the girl’s name) was only a few years old. And so she had been brought up by her father, who was very fond of her. And now that it was time for them to part, he naturally wanted a considerable compensation for the loss of his daughter. She made him very comfortable.
Strong Hand had offered three very finely balanced clubs. You had only to swing one to be confident of getting your man. And One Eye wanted the clubs very dearly. He loved to fight—and get the best of it. But then, Fish Catch, the renowned maker of nets, had offered him one of his best for the girl. And One Eye, who could not make nets himself, knew that his own private net was so rotted as to be useless, and that in order to live comfortably it was necessary to have a net—for a good net meant good food. So he was sadly torn in his mind.
There had been other offers for the girl, but none so glittering. And One Eye had promised on this very afternoon to decide between Strong Hand and Fish Catch.