The wonder stick

by Stanton A. Coblentz

With a hasty glance at his onrushing foe, Ru turned and fled. And, as he scurried into the shelter of a thicket of reeds, the laughter of Yonyo was flung after him like a blow.

For the rest of that day, Ru kept to himself. He did not seek to join the chattering, frolicsome groups of young folk; he did not trudge side by side with any of his elder tribesmen in amiable fellowship; he plodded in morose silence along those gaily echoing forest lanes. Only now and then, when some small boy or girl would approach and coax him to some playful tussle, would his intense gravity relax; but it would relax only partially, and after a minute he would again succumb to gloomy reveries. Why had he been made so small of stature, so frail of limb? he asked himself over and over again, as he had asked time on time before. Why could he not stand face to face with his rivals, and fight them as any but himself would have done? Must he always be like the slinking hyena, which keeps at a distance and disdains equal combat? Must he be powerless to control even his own will? and, having decided to face his persecutors, must he find himself racing away ratlike at the first hostile scowl?

Such thoughts were still filling Ru's mind when at length the day's march ended. The sun was just beginning to dip its head beyond a dark, distant ridge of forest when Grumgra, bellowing at the top of his voice, gave the order to halt. At first he did not seem certain what camping-place to choose; and there was manifest indecision in his tiny black eyes as he scanned the broken line of woods that paralleled the stream, the green flowery meadow that stretched between the forest and the river bank, and the jutting cliffs perhaps half a mile down-stream, where forest and meadow gave place to a rocky cañon through which the waters foamed tumultuously.

Then, while scores of his kinsmen stood regarding him speechlessly but with anxious eyes, the chieftain suddenly decided: "We shall camp here in the open fields. And build a ring of fire to keep away the wild beasts."

In silence the people received this command—in silence, with only one exception. For while Woonoo and Kuff and the others heard and prepared to obey, he who was known as the Sparrow-Hearted strode forward, and in loud tones requested, "O chief, may I speak a little?"

For reply, Grumgra merely snarled. His little eyes gleamed with angry fires; he grasped his club with ominous firmness.

Although the distance between them was hazardously narrow, Ru seemed to assume that the Growling Wolf's snarl was consent. In a voice loud enough for all the tribe to hear, he demanded: "Are the fields safe, O chief? Would it not be wiser to camp under the cliffs? Then it would be easier to keep the wild beasts off—"

But he could proceed no further. Howling with rage and swinging the club as if to do instant murder, Grumgra strode toward the impudent one. And once again Ru had to save himself by means of his feet. And once again the tribe laughed loud and merrily.

Now came the most trying of all the day's exertions. While the men went off into the forest in groups of three and four to gather firewood, the women busied themselves with pieces of flint which they hammered laboriously together time after time until at last the eagerly awaited spark kindled a pile of dead leaves. Many minutes were passed in this pursuit, and twilight was settling down, before at last half a dozen fires, fed from the limbs of fallen trees, were blazing with bright and heartening gusto.

Within the line of the fires—which were arranged in a rude circle—were assembled all the men and women of the tribe, who lay sprawled on their robes of bison and deerskin, chattering contentedly and noisily consuming huge chunks of smoked venison or newly roasted morsels of boar's flesh. Now and then one would leave to go down to the river bank for a long draft of water, which he would suck in animal-like; but as the darkness deepened, such departures became less frequent, and at length ended entirely, for all knew better than to venture away from the fire into the perils of the night.