OG—SON OF FIRE
CHAPTER I
THE CALL OF COOKED MEAT
The earth rocked. The sky was of purple blackness. The nauseating stench of burning sulphur filled the air. Thunder rumbled, and growled constantly under the earth crust to be answered by shattering crashes that seemed to come from the heavens, and with each terrific impact a mountain vaguely outlined in the distance trembled and shook and huge fissures opened down its side from which bubbled out great clots of lurid red molten lava, the light of which reflected on the billowing clouds of thick yellow smoke vomiting from the crater. Off through the night like giant reptiles of fire these streams of lava flowed, crawling slowly down the mountain side, sliding around great bowlders, or pausing a moment to fill huge cracks in the earth’s crust before proceeding on their serpentine way into the valley, where a veritable molten lake of lava was slowly forming. A great volcano after a lifetime of slumber had awakened.
Cowering, wild-eyed with fear, under the sheltering overhang of a rugged cliff on a hillside far beyond the valley that was slowly filling with lava, was a boy,—the sole human witness to this terrible cataclysmic disturbance. Beside him shivering and whimpering were two hairy, dog-like creatures, wolf-dog cubs, who, like the boy, had sought the shelter of this massive rock hoping that here they would in some way find a measure of protection in the face of this horrible disaster. The boy was the only survivor of a colony of cliff dwelling humans who had lived in the caves near by, but who had fled the section in panic when the Fire Demon in the mountain had begun to blast the earth by letting loose his fiery serpents from the mountain. The wolf-dog cubs were all that were left of a pack of gray-black hunters caught in the valley with the first outburst of the eruption, and unable to gain the hillside where the cubs had been left by their wary mother.
For the space of two suns and two starlights they had crouched there. The boy guessed it was that long. They had seen neither sun nor stars. Night and day had been the same under that curling yellow smoke pall. Perhaps the Fire Demon had put out both the sun and the stars and they would never shine again. The boy did not know. He did know that he was tired and that he had missed many sleeps. Despite his fear, which still gripped him, his eyes would close and his head would fall forward even though he fought to keep awake. If he had to die he wanted to see death come. He did not want it to stalk upon him while he slept. But despite his overwhelming fear, and his will power, which was strong for one of his kind, sleep mastered him and finally in the face of this tornado of smoke and fire that seemed to threaten destruction to the very earth itself, his head dropped forward, his eyes closed and he slept the dull, heavy sleep of utter physical exhaustion.
He slept in a very strange manner. He did not lie down flat as human beings do to-day, nor did he curl up on his side as did the wolf cubs. Instead he slept sitting on his haunches, his body drawn in and his drooping though muscular shoulders hunched over his knees. His head had dropped forward between his knees and his big, long-fingered hands were clasped across the back of his neck. Why he slept thus he did not know. It seemed to him the most natural and most comfortable position. He could not understand that he was obeying the protective instincts of Nature; that his big hands were clasped about the back of his neck to protect the arteries and nerve centers there, and that the long hair on the back of his hands and forearms and upper arms grew in a manner that made all hairs point downward when his arms were in this position, thus shedding rain or moisture. It would require a long stretch of the imagination to connect this being with the humans of to-day, 500,000 years removed. His legs were short, being but a few inches longer than his very long and very strong arms. His head was set on a pair of sloping shoulders, massive for one of his short stature, and his neck was thick and corded with muscles. His ears were small and he had perfect control over them, for this hairy boy had very acute senses. His nose he controlled the same way, his nostrils dilating or contracting to gather in new odors, or shut out those that were strong and offensive to his delicate sense of smell. His mouth was strong and well armed with short, strong teeth. His jaw was broad and massive; a trifle too large for his head it seemed. His eyes were brown and set far apart under almost shaggy, bushing brows, and his forehead was broad and high for one of his race.
For hours this primitive boy slept, and although his quick ears and sensitive nose gathered in every new sound and odor, they failed to register on the dulled brain, so great was his exhaustion. Likewise the two wolf-dog cubs, snuggled close to his hairy hips for warmth, slept, for they, too, were worn out beyond the point where they could control their physical selves. And as they slept the clash of the elements grew less violent. The thunder claps and rumblings beneath the earth’s surface became less frequent and gradually ceased entirely, the sulphuric yellow smoke pall thinned out enough to let the sun, a huge round ball of fire it seemed through the thick yellow mist, shine dimly. The volcano now threw out great plumes of white steam. The lava ceased to bubble over the sides of the crater, and the lurid red streams that coursed down its sides began to lose their color and likewise their motion. They were cooling into solid masses.
It was hunger that finally awoke the hairy boy. For many days and nights he had been without food. The first day of his refuge under the overhanging cliff he was secretly glad to find the wolf cubs there. They insured him against starvation. But during the wild hours that followed he thought very little of his stomach. Only once did he realize that he was hungry, but when he faced the situation of killing one of the cubs he hesitated. Not through any sense of honor, or because of any sentiment, for as yet he possessed very little of either. He hesitated at killing either of them for the simple reason that alive they afforded companionship. Dead and eaten he would be alone and he feared to be alone in the face of this overpowering disaster that seemed to threaten him.