Almost without warning, the darkness was overspread by an unearthly yellow illumination; and a row of bushes along the river bank burst into bright flame. The nearer fighters turned and gazed in consternation, muttering to themselves and staring like men whom the power of action has deserted. And while, stupidly bewildered, they gaped and gaped, the fire leaped higher and higher, till it was taller than a tall man, and the sparks flew like meteors, and glowing spirals of smoke soared to the skies. Then, as the screams of battle gave place to screams of terror, and fresh combatants forgot their clubs and crowded close to see, the blazes spread and spread, till in places they filled the cañon from the river to the cliff.
Encouraged by a rising breeze, they sprang from the shrubbery to the overhanging branches of the pine trees, which began to burn and sparkle gustily. And enormous flames, greater than any of the fighters had ever seen before, began to roar and crackle among the trees. The bright streamers leaped far heavenward, licking their greedy lips rabidly; with amazing rapidity they grew, even vaulting across the river, until from cañon wall to cañon wall there was a glaring, brassy-yellow, wavering bank of fire, which cast an unearthly, sultry illumination over the black knots of watching men. The air was filled with the acrid odor of smoke; great black cinders darted through the gloom; and high above the flames, where the red sparks vanished, all the heavens were discolored with an angry crimson glow.
Now, above the sizzling laughter and the howling of the conflagration, there arose the voices of men in mortal agony. All thought of the fight had been forgotten; each was bent only on saving himself. Some, trapped in pockets of the woods, shrieked and yelled in futile anguish before they gasped their last; others, with hair shriveling beneath the intense heat, cried out furiously and dashed for refuge into the river. "The fire-god! The fire-god! The fire-god comes to kill us!" wailed the panic-stricken Umbaddu; and mingled with their voices were the still ruder, more blatant ones of the beast-men. But friend knew not friend, and foe knew not foe, in that clamorous dash for the safe, cool waters. Side by side the combatants crept into the stream, side by side without so much as a hostile snort; and, once within the river, no man had any thought except to stand submerged with nostrils barely above the surface.
And while the survivors felt the refreshing waters roll over them, the hissing and roaring of the fire gradually grew less distinct, its heat a little less unbearable, its illumination dimmer and more remote. When at last the less timorous ventured out of the river, they beheld that same ghastly red glow reaching high in air and far along the horizon; but they could no longer see the shooting tongues of flame, and they knew that the fire-god had withdrawn and that it was safe to seek their people once more.
The following morning, in the cave of the Umbaddu, there was much weeping and wailing. Distracted women paced back and forth with prolonged sobs and lamentations; some tore furiously at the hair on their arms and chests; some beat themselves insanely upon the legs and thighs; some merely lay in a corner, moaning and moaning. As the survivors of the night's encounter trailed one by one up the cliff walls and back into the cave, it became apparent that the tribe's losses had been irreparable. The misfortune was not that those who came back were much bedraggled or disabled; that Kuff the Bear-Hunter limped grievously, while Woonoo the Hot-Blooded dangled a broken arm; that the throat and shoulders of Mumlo the Trail-Finder showed the red mark of teeth, while half the hair of Grumgra's back had been singed away—such injuries were of minor account. The real misfortune was that, of those who had gone forth the night before, nearly half had not returned. "Where is Targ the Thick Club? Where is Gurr the Stone-Flinger? Where is Ulu the Long-Armed?" rang forth the despairing cries of searching women—but none was ever to bring an answer to their appeals.
Most disturbing of all was the absence of one who had been thought immune to danger. "Zunzun the Marvel-Worker—where is he?" cried scores of anxious voices. But there came no reply; and the people groaned that their gods had indeed deserted them, for all the arts of Zunzun had not sufficed to save him from the beast-men.
CHAPTER XXIV
The Wonder Stick Strikes
While the battered remnants of the attacking force were reassembling before the cave fire, one of the women made her way quietly out of a wailing group of her sisters, and slipped unnoticed toward the inner recesses of the cavern. In a moment she had been lost from view among the shadows. Rounding a turn at the end of the main gallery, she found herself in a blackness so absolute that her eyes could tell her nothing and she had to rely absolutely upon her groping fingers. Yet she took her way, not without assurance, even along the inky corridor, and her pace, while not rapid, was far from snail-like. It was only a few minutes before, passing another turn, she could make out a faint grayish radiance ahead; and toward this she proceeded at increased speed, while the light, although never approaching brightness, grew constantly more distinct.