And so, as Gnawbones told me, when I made him confess with my spear-handle, the thing was kept in the cave, and grew until it became a plaything no longer, but something ever hungry, and sometimes sullen. Then they, the foolish ones, drove a great stake in the cracked rock, in a corner of the cave floor, and tied the beast there, with a thong about its neck fastened to a bar of hard wood, which, in its turn, was tied to the great stake. The brute, nearly full grown, could only circle about the stake, though ever straining at his thongs. So they kept him and fed him. No man can tell why they did so.
There came a day when the fishing was bad, and frogs and clams were few for Three Toes, and the hunting bad for the youth Gnawbones, and that day the leopard got no food. The next morning he was raging, and Three Toes and Gnawbones left the cave early to find what might come to them. At the warm time, the middle of the day, when the sun hung almost over the caves by the river, there came such a screaming and yelling from the gorge as had never been heard before. It came to our ears together, to Black Bow and me, for we were not in our huts, but sitting outside, working upon our bows. I seized my spear, and ran toward the gorge.
Night, the old woman in the cave in the gorge, told me afterward what happened to her. The hungry leopard had strained at its leash until the thong about its neck had parted, and in an instant it had crouched for a spring at her throat. She had seen it in time, and had caught up a spear, and had screamed shrilly; and, whatever the cause, the leopard had turned its head, and then leaped from the cave out into the open.
She saw it go down the gorge, and had rushed out and climbed a tree, still screaming, to warn Three Toes and Gnawbones, who, she knew, were in a little wood near at hand. They came running, and then also climbed trees most hurriedly, and added to the noise with their wild howling to warn the Cave people below. That was when I, leading the others, came running to the mouth of the gorge. There, halfway up it, we saw the leopard, advancing downward, cautious and crouching!
I did not fear the beast. I held my spear forward, and neared the leopard, until we were close together. With a snarl, it leaped for me, and I held my spear as I had done before with a leopard I slew; but the ground was sloping and I slipped upon some pebble, and the spear just entered the shoulder of the brute, tearing outward through the spotted skin. The leopard screamed, almost as had the old woman; then, as it struck the ground, whirled swiftly and dashed up the gorge again. There it paused and sent up a long, mournful cry, such as I had heard in the woods before. From the far beech wood came an answer—the call of another of its kind! It did not stay longer. In long leaps it went across the open space toward the wood, a spotted shadow against the brown grass, and into the forest where its kindred were.
And this adventure of Gnawbones and his people was what had made Black Bow laugh when I talked of taming and training other things than the wolf dogs. We said no more at this time, but there came a day when he would have such fancies as had I. We were led to thinking of taming again by a curious happening, and truly our first effort was no mean one, however rude its ending. And it was because of a discovery of the little children. There came the Rope and Noose.
It was when the leaves were beginning to turn yellow, that the children stumbled upon the thing. Little Round Nose and Crop Ear, the children of Black Bow, were playing together near where the strong marsh grass grew thickest beside the river, a little way above the glen of the caves and the huts. They were amusing themselves, without anything in mind, as children do, and were merry, running about here and there, as do the young of the wild things, chattering and digging, and throwing stones into the shallow water, and watching the little fishes as they darted away affrighted. They tired at last, and seated themselves in the long grass where it was dry, and began pulling it up by the roots, and playing with it idly. Little Crop Ear laid some of the long blades together; and not knowing what she did, only fumbling with her fingers at a root bearing three blades, began laying them one over the other. She did this for quite a space of time, and then shrieked out in delight upon seeing that the strands remained together in a flat green braid. She kept up the wonderful task until the whole length of the grass was braided, and then did not know what to do. She pulled more grass, and tried to braid it in with what she already had, but could not do it for a time. But she was a stubborn and persistent child, and, it may be, had some natural gift at such a thing, just as some of the boys have in the stone-chipping, and at last she discovered a way of interlacing and plaiting in the new grass, and making the green blade longer.
Then all went well with her; and, when she returned to the cave, she carried proudly with her the long, slender, three-stranded cord. After they had eaten, Black Bow took the string from the child, and began playing with it, and testing its strength. He wondered at it. He had not thought that the marsh grass so plaited could be so strong. He called to me, and I went to his cave, and we considered the thing together. Why could we not use this queer device to bind things together, as we used the twisted sinews of the wild creatures we had killed? We learned from the child how to plait the tough grass, as did the women of the clan; and henceforth, because of these cords, a new convenience existed in the huts and caves.
The only fault with the marsh-grass cord was that, tough as it was, it was not quite strong enough for many uses to which it might be put. “If it were only bigger,” said Black Bow to me as we talked of the matter; and then, all at once, there came to him a great thought. If three of the strands of the marsh grass could be braided so, why could not three of the cords already made be plaited in the same way, and so on to any size? We worked together, and when the sun went down that night we held in our hands a great braid—one he and I could not break, though, each taking one end, we strained against it with all our force. We owned a rope of might. And other ropes we made—some from the inner bark we peeled from the linden tree; but, in the end, the marsh grass proved the best.
It was queer, but always, it seems to me, when one good thing is found, there comes another. It may be it is because the first one makes us think.