Truly we had reason to be glad, for there was not another of the villages of the Lake-Dwellers in all the mountain and valley region as growing and prosperous as ours, nor were there any of the land tribes whom we greatly feared. There had been great trouble and bloodshed long ago, but that was past and known of only in the stories of our fathers. Our ways were now those of the peaceful, though, sometimes, there were tragedies, yet, as the years passed, it seemed as if there could surely be no tribe so safe as we who dwelt in the huts of the lake village. The time when, as I have said, there was no peace at all, was when we dwelt upon the land which came sloping from the west to the water’s side and when very near to us to the north and east were wild tribes who made repeated forays and who slew and burned. We had remained but a small and timorous force when some one among us—none now could tell whom, but he must have been most wise and crafty—thought of the plan of making our dwellings on piles above the water, that we might be able to defend ourselves from all invaders, be they any of the wicked foraying tribes, or the marauding beasts, which at that time were many and fierce and dangerous. But this had been long ago, and the story of it was already becoming dim. To make our houses we, first, from our boats, drove sharpened piles of oak, beech, fir or ash, or sometimes yew, deep into the soft bottom of the lake, not very far from shore, yet far enough for safety’s sake; though sometimes nearer shore, so near that, when need came, a platform could be laid from it to the land, there was built a greater house than those we lived in, into which we could drive our animals when any danger threatened them. Our living places we reached mostly by boat, though in times of certain peace we had usually laid from the great platform a narrow path of split planks on a row of piles upon which we might pass more readily; these planks, like those of the slope from the ground to the stables, could easily be taken away. Upon the great platform farthest out in the lake our homes were built, very much alike. There were four upright standards connected by timbers wooden-pinned at the top, making the frame of a house a little longer than it was wide. Between these standards were the walls of interwoven willow plastered with a mortar of firmly adhesive mud. The roof was raised in the middle that the rain might run off more easily. In one end were a door and a window. At one end of the living-room was a big sandstone slab which was the fireplace, the smoke from which escaped through the door and window or through a hole in the roof; it did not annoy us, for all were accustomed to it from childhood, besides which we had learned to use only those woods for fire which burned most cleanly. In the middle of the floor of each house was a trap door, through which could be let down a small net for the fish which were so abundant in the lake and upon which we depended much for food when the hunting chanced to be bad and we had nothing else to eat with our bread of wheat or barley or millet seed, which we cultivated upon the land. For beds we had the skins of wild animals or of our own tamed cattle, or sheep or goats. What finer homes could be? Surely we were a fortunate people.
We had ways of orderly living. All disputes were decided by three chosen old men of the tribe, though not always would those who quarrelled abide by their decision, and to each man of the tribe was allotted his part in what was to be done for the general good. It must needs be so, for our occupations were so different that it was necessary that each should know how best to do his work. The potter—we had many dishes and huge jars for the grain, and other things of burned clay—could only do his best if always at his own sort of work; those who looked after the cattle and flocks must best know how to handle them and where were the richest and safest feeding places; those who did the hunting and fishing, of whom I was the chief, must be strong of arm and fleet of foot and wise in the habits of all wild things; and those who cultivated the ground—the women and some of the men—must know how to best prepare it for the seeding, digging it up with sharpened sticks, and hauling over it the branches of trees and the drags of stag’s horn, and how to do the harvesting. What a community we were! There was none other like us! Long already had our people lived above the lake, our numbers had increased, the huge platform stretched its length far along and became wider as it became longer. Thus safe and thus mingling together in such numbers we devised many new things and so were becoming more capable and potent. What we were some time to be who could foretell?
The work of the hunters was, of needs, the most adventurous and arduous, and only the strong men and those who were most capable were chosen for it. They must be in the forefront in time of conflict with other tribes, should such time come, and we of the band were all provided with coats and leggings of dried aurochs’ hide, which arrow or even spear could hardly pierce with force sufficient to enter deeply the body of the wearer. Far and wide we ranged, but not deeply, the dark and almost endless forest region to the north and east, where were dangerous beasts and still more dangerous and savage men of the tribes who had once made frequent war upon us, in the time before we became Lake-Dwellers, and so protected and too well-weaponed and trained and strong for them. In our own village were more than a thousand people, and in other lakes not far to the south and east were almost as many more.
As for my own life in my hut, or outside on land or water, it was but good. There were my mate and the child and the ardour of the chase. It seemed to me at times that I, Scar, the hunter and fisherman, was the most contented man among a contented people.
For food we never lacked, even when the hunting and fishing were not good. There was the grain equally divided throughout the tribe and stored in the great clay jars made by the potters, and the dried meat and fish and also dried fruit of many kinds, for we had the wild apples and wild pears and cherries and plums, and especially a little sour crab-apple which we liked and which grew in great abundance. There were also many berries and great quantities of beechnuts and acorns, in the hills. Much game there was at times, but, most of all, I think, we depended on the marsh cow, a wild and rather savage little brown beast which came down in numbers to feed upon the marsh grass on the east side of the lake, where we hunted it as craftily as we might. A great adventure had I one day with my brave little mate, whom I had taught to become, oftentimes, a great help to me in my hunting. I had rowed across the lake with her far to the south, for I did not wish to land near the marsh, and so came upon it from the forest beyond. Far out and near the water I could see a single marsh cow feeding close to shore. We slipped quietly from the wood and entered the grass and then crept forward on our bellies as quietly and silently as any of the little creatures living there, and, at last, came very near the cow, for the wind was from it and it did not scent us. It had been a weary crawl.
The cow, very fortunately for us, had in feeding gone out upon a little point extending into the lake. We thus had it at a disadvantage. I rose slowly to my feet and drew my arrow to its head and shot, aiming at the heart and feeling that I could at such short distance drive the shaft almost through the comparatively small brown body. Unfortunately, as I shot, the cow turned a little and the arrow buried itself in her shoulder slantingly. With a great bellow the animal whirled about, and I thought that it would charge, but suddenly it changed its mind and plunged into the water, for the marsh cattle swam almost as easily as did the beaver, of which there were thousands, the skins of which furnished us warm clothing. I leaped forward and shot again as the cow swam, but only put an arrow in its rump. Then there swished by me my little mate, carrying in her mouth crosswise a short rod she had seized from the ground; she curved forward into the water as gracefully and swiftly as any of the fish-hunting creatures which harboured in the marsh.
Then followed some great swimming! The cow struck out toward the southward, seeking to reach another point of land where it might attain the forest again, but my mate was beside and ahead of it in scarce a moment, belabouring it over the head with the stick she bore, cudgelling it most valiantly and recklessly. The cow, still swimming, and bellowing in rage, turned and charged, but could not catch that elusive thing any more than could the beaver catch the otter. There was a swirl and foam of waters and then came what made me roar aloud as much in wonder as in glee. Elka had seized the marsh cow by the tail and was still cudgelling away most valiantly and recklessly. Furthermore, she was guiding the direction of the swimming beast! As it sought to turn toward the shore, she would thwack it on the shore side so furiously that, in desperation, it would turn the other way. Soon I saw Elka’s aim—she was guiding the cow across the lake!
I ran my best until I reached the boat we had left far down the lake, and rowed fiercely toward the two dark objects I could discern now a long distance out. They were moving a little more slowly now, as well they might, but were approaching the farther shore when I came up with them. The cow was showing fatigue, though my mate was even frolicsome, since she had not borne any labour, save in the steering. She had brought her quarry home alive. She guided it to the shore, where I speared it, ending its trouble, while from the outpouring throng on the wide platform came a roar of astonishment at the exploit. Such a mate had I! Well did she merit the soft furs I always brought her and the necklaces of amber beads for which I traded with the sometimes wandering bands of friendly people from the great sea to the north they called the Baltic, wherein was the amber found. A necklace and an armlet of amber were hers, and she had beads also of serpentine and of the inside of brilliant shells, and many combs of yew-wood and of bone and horn. There were none other like her!
And, most curiously, that same day came another happening of a far different nature and one that made me almost believe that there might be reason for the stone crescent in some of the huts, for surely Yak and Mona without some power to bring good fortune to them would surely have lost their one child, a babe which could scarcely walk.
Most of us could not understand it or believe it, but somehow there had grown up a sort of what they called religion in the tribe, and a belief that we could be helped in our undertakings and preserved from evil by the aid of some great Being in the skies, and this Being was thought by these worshippers to be the kindly moon which gave us light by night, when otherwise we would have been more helpless. So, in the cabins of those who held the faith, was kept as a charm a crescent made of stone which was counted a sure aid and protection. Little faith had I in the belief or the crescent, but, as I have said, what happened on this day somewhat affected me the other way.