Bolo the cave boy

by Katharine Atherton Grimes

The boys never forgot that terrible time. For many long hours the rain fell in gusty sheets, and below them, as they sat huddled close together on a big limb, they could see nothing but brown, rushing water. They called sometimes, and at first one or another of the cave people would answer. Once Bolo heard his mother’s voice. But after a while there were no more answers.

Then it began to grow very cold. The boys could not keep warm even by sitting very close together. In the clouded light they could see groups of cave people on the hills about the Valley. As they looked at one group, to their horror, they saw a great pack of wolves fighting through the water to reach the same high place. From another hilltop they could hear the snarling of frightened and savage hyenas.

“It is better in the trees,” said Bolo.

“I wonder where Flame has gone,” said Fisher.

It seemed to Bolo as if they must die before the rain ceased and the flood went down. Their hands grew so stiff that they could hardly hold to the limbs. Dark came, and daylight, and dark again, they could not tell how many times, and still the water raged below them. Once in the night they felt something strike the tree, and in the morning the body of a great wildcat hung limply across the end of the limb.

“I am glad he was dead before he found our tree,” said Bolo with a shudder.

When the rain stopped at last and the water began to go down the boys could hardly move. They tried to call, but their lips were stiff and would not make much sound. Now and then, as the water whirled past, the ghastly face of a drowned cave man would glimmer for a moment below them, only to be swallowed up at once by the grim, brown water.

The water went down as fast as it had risen. As soon as it was safe the boys slid stiffly to the ground and limped back to the caves. They were hungry and cold and miserable, and they thought how good the fire would feel. But though they searched long and carefully through the sodden ashes they could not find so much as a single spark.

By and by more of the cave people began to come back home, one by one. Frantically they searched through the desolate caves for a glimmer of fire, but none could be found. They were in despair. How could they live without fire? There would be no way to cook their food or to warm themselves when it grew cold. And, worst of all, there would now be no way to keep the wild beasts out of the caves, and all of the people would have to go back to the trees to live, as did their fore-parents so long, long ago. They were very wretched, and could do nothing but huddle together in groups, trying to realize all that the loss of their fires would mean to them.

But where was Flame? Perhaps if they could find her she could help them. They thought she knew where the Fire-god lived and could get him to send them fire.