Stories of the Cave People

by Mary Marcy

They were 14 years old and stood straight and brown and almost as tall as the men of the tribe, but they had not yet learned to have care for all the dangers that lurked in the unknown ways, as older men.

They were proud of the wild skins that lay hot and heavy on their shoulders and the teeth that made chains about their throats. They were never done showing the trophies they had gathered in the hunt to their young companions. And they boasted much, for they were more strong than the other boys of the clan.

Laughing Boy was proud of his water bag which, when the thong was tightly drawn and the bag was filled with water, spilled scarcely a single drop, while Web Toe beat much of the time upon his drum or tom-tom which he believed made the most beautiful music in the world. This tom-tom he had made by stretching the soft skin of some small animal over a willow branch bent and fastened in a circle.

The older members of the tribe were stretched in the cooling shade near the river bank, or sleeping the sleep that comes from much eating in the cool of the caves. But the children and the youths romped about, vyeing with each other in games of sport and in feats of strength. Among these Web Toe and Laughing Boy were easily the victors, throwing their boomerangs and their stone weapons further and with greater accuracy than any of the others.

Laughing Boy had now smeared his whole chest with the deep vermilion juice of “the Make Brave” plant and Web Toe had gouged holes in both ears, from which hung half a dozen shells and cougar teeth and they strutted about in the glory of their strength and budding manhood.

But at last they stole away from the others and softly made their way through the thicket and on up and over the hill to the high places, where the dry grass crackled and rustled beneath their scurrying feet. Laughing and chattering they ran, flinging care and caution to the winds, racing to see which would be the quicker to reach this point or that, and again speeding on to make the giant banyan trees.

Here they paused to rest and to laugh softly, and the cunning of all wood creatures came back to their straggling senses and they proceeded cautiously, chattering more softly and laughing more quietly.

Laughing Boy carried his stone weapon and his water bag, which bulged with ample fullness, while Web Foot brandished his tom-tom in one hand and his stone sling in the other. Only now he made not a sound with his beloved music box. It was a time to avoid the creatures of the forest, though all were sleepy and lazy from abundant food and the warmth of the sun.

They jabbered of the “sweet, sweet,” meaning wild honey, which they meant to take back to the tribe and with which they intended to show the other youths how much more clever and courageous they were than the other boys in the clan.

With every gay and confident step as they advanced up the small plateau the land grew more parched. Laughing Boy, who saw things that escaped the eyes of Web Toe pointed to little hollows now and then which had been dried by the sun, and when Web Toe, soon grown thirsty, sought to take his bag for a drink, Laughing Boy shook his head. “No,” he said, and pointed to the sun high overhead. He meant to save the water for the journey caveward.