At this a thankful tumult burst forth; and many were the murmurs of gratitude and relief. Some of the hearers, in their joy, threw congratulatory arms about their neighbors' necks; others literally howled with delight; one or two attempted a sort of rude, sidling dance; and more than one voice was uplifted to praise the name of Zunzun the Marvel-Worker.
But amid that happy demonstration, there came a single dissenting note. "How do you know? How do you know, Zunzun?" rang forth a clear voice—the voice of Ru. "Just what did the fire-god say? And how did you find out?"
But his words were drowned amid a chorus of hisses and jeers; and the Marvel-Worker, casting a disdainful glance in the direction of his challenger, did not deem it necessary to reply.
Instead, turning to address the people, he directed: "Let us show our thanks to the fire-god. Let us all make him an offering."
And every man, woman and child snatched up dried fagots and twigs and flung them into the flames, with fervid cries of "Thank you, fire-god! May the fire-god burn forever!"
And the fire, as if in gratitude, flared and crackled more vigorously than ever; and all the assembled people joined hands in a mighty circle about the flames, and began to swing back and forth, back and forth, and leap and caper like children, while shouting with religious zeal, "Thank you, fire-god! We will always serve you and bear you offerings! May the fire-god burn forever!"
CHAPTER V
The Migration Begins
The day of the migration had dawned. The last rites had been performed; the Umbaddu people were leaving their ancestral dwelling-place. Some among the tribesmen had paused to look with sadness at those dark and picture-littered walls that they should never see again; some had gone to place flint weapons and chunks of meat in the burial grotto at the cavern's end, where lay the bones of loved ones; some had cast the horns of bison, the teeth of bears and patches of bearskin about the cavern floor, as an offering to the cave-gods whom they were deserting; some—and these were all members of the milder sex—had made themselves objects of ridicule by indulging in orgies of tears; while a majority—particularly of the younger tribesmen—shouted in sheer exultation, since before them lay the open world, the unknown, and adventure.
It was a curious procession that made its way down from the cliff-dwelling and out along the wilderness trail. Women with babes in arms and tenacious two-year-olds clinging to their shoulders; men laden with trailing limbs of deer and cattle, and with pouches bulging with roots, herbs, and berries; scrawny children that released themselves like acrobats from rock to rock, and from time to time screamed and howled as they slipped upon the boulders—such were the leading members of that little army of migrants. Owing to the mass of provisions, of weapons and flint implements that had to be transported, many of the men and women had to ascend and descend the cliff three or four times; and so many were the delays, the minor mishaps and altercations, that the morning was half done before the tribe was actually on its way.