By the Light of the Half-Moon
The following day passed without event. The beast-men remained encamped near the river within plain view of the cave entrance, and still showed no inclination to leave; but neither did they seem disposed to launch another attack. Meanwhile the Umbaddu held carefully to their safe rocky fastnesses, and never once did any tribesman descend within a stone's throw of the enemy. So far as any observer might have judged, the contest was developing into a perpetual deadlock.
But although the day witnessed not so much as a hint of action, yet the approach of evening was the signal for unusual agitation within the cave. Men and women were bustling about in a thousand directions on a thousand eager errands; some were busily sharpening flint implements, some affectionately smoothing the edges of their clubs; some were fastening pouches of pebbles in convenient positions on their deerskin mantles; some were gustily eating, some industriously chattering, some merely pacing back and forth, back and forth in savage impatience; a few were praying silently to the gods of the woods and the fire, and one or two of the women were weeping; while over them all brooded an atmosphere of expectation, of apprehension, of hope tempered by a sense of impending peril and even of disaster.
The patch of light that marked the cave entrance had dwindled to the gray of twilight, and then been lost in the opaqueness of night before Grumgra, stalking out of the shadows with club portentously swinging, bellowed the signal that sent scores of hearts beating pell-mell. He looked unusually impressive this evening, with his circlet of wolf's fangs fastened conspicuously about his head and his wolfskin robe hideously black against his black form; and never had his people been quicker to make way before him and to murmur obedience to his orders.
"Are all of us here?" he began, eying his followers not without satisfaction. "Is every tribesman here?"
"I am here!" volunteered Woonoo the Hot-Blooded, striding forward ostentatiously.
"I am here!" echoed Kori the Running Deer.
"I am here!" chorused Targ the Thick Club, Kuff the Bear-Hunter, and Mumlo the Trail-Finder.
"Does anyone look for any tribesman, and not find him?" thundered Grumgra, scowling his severest.
There was an interval of confusion, while each man turned to search inquiringly among his neighbors. "Where is Karv the Leaping Stallion?" "Where is Zuno the Wily Fox?" "Where is Ugwung the Wolf-Faced?" came the voices of baffled seekers. But always, after an instant, there would be a reply, perhaps from across the cave, "Here am I, Ugwung the Wolf-Faced!" or, "Here he is, Zuno the Wily Fox!" And so, after some minutes' delay, the roll was completely called, and it was found that every man in the tribe was present—with only one exception.