All the Cave People shivered with fear, for they thought this was a very foolish thing. They believed that the spirits of the dead grow angry when their weapons are broken or destroyed and they felt sure that the spirit of Strong Arm would punish Big Foot for the desecration he had worked on the club of the old chief.
But Big Foot was too angry to be afraid. White foam appeared upon his lips. When he thought of the spirit of Strong Arm he longed for a tangible foe, with flesh upon his bones that he might crush, with red juice in his skin that he might spill, with ears and a nose that he might bite and twist and tear. He desired an enemy into whose soft belly he might hurl one of his sharp arrows.
But there were only the Cave People beside him and the menace in their eyes and their lips, pulled back, snarling from their teeth, made him afraid. So he lifted up his voice in a frenzy of hate and scorn while he called the name of “Strong Arm! Strong Arm! Maker of lies;” he called him, and “Fool! Coward! Weak One! Baby!” and “Snake-that-crawls!” while he made violent gestures of hatred and disgust.
The Cave People watched him fearfully. To them it did not seem the part of wisdom to mock and defy the spirit of Strong Arm, which still lived, though his body had perished. Something was bound to happen. Strong Arm had never permitted any man to speak thus of him when he was living in the flesh and they did not believe his spirit would endure insult from Big Foot. Indeed, yes, something was sure to happen.
But it was not good for the whole tribe to be punished or blamed for the foolishness of Big Foot. This they knew and they made haste to put wide distances between themselves and him, pursuing their own work or their own ends with much ostentation as far as possible removed from his presence. If the spirit of Strong Arm was hiding in the valley and had chanced to overhear the evil words of Big Foot, no flat-headed savage among the tribe wanted Strong Arm to fancy he had anything to do with these things. They washed their hands of the whole affair and departed from the immediate presence of Big Foot.
The more Big Foot raved, the oftener One Ear called upon the spirit of Strong Arm, crying:
“Brave one! Wise one! Swift of foot” and “Give us of thy counsel!” And the Cave People began talking in loud voices of the good deeds of their old chief, of his courage and strength, of his wisdom and his “Eye-that-never-slept.”
While Big Foot defied the spirit of Strong Arm, One Ear and the Cave People sought to propitiate him with loud words of admiration and some flattery.
“Stronger than the hairy mastodon” they called him and “Father of all the lions.” He could outleap the mountain goat and outclimb the longest armed ou-rang-oo-tang. His voice was like the thunder and his breath like the winds that bend the trees on the river banks.
They felt more certain than ever that something was going to happen. They expected the spirit of Strong Arm to make it happen. But they did not desire to share in untoward events if a little information given to the spirit of Strong Arm could prevent this thing.