But the wood was wet, and would burn but poorly; and the shower waxed heavier and heavier until it came down in torrents, and Ru, dripping from head to foot, could make out the lively little streams that rippled everywhere through the camping-place. Then once again he caught a glimpse of phosphorescent eyes through the howling gloom; and amid the roaring of the plunging, falling waters he could distinguish now and then another roaring that was still more sinister.
By this time all the camp was awake. Aroused abruptly from their slumbers, men, women and children came surging in all directions like a rout of distracted shadows; and, literally tripping and plunging over one another in their frenzy, they clamored and yelled as if to match the tumult of the elements. Suddenly, amid the rushing and rioting of that panic-stricken mob, Ru felt himself being pounced upon, shoved aside and trampled; and as, in confusion, he picked up his bruised body and slipped hurriedly away, he saw that the multitude, in its terror, was heaping log after log with insane haste upon all six fires—with the result that all, already sputtering feebly, were stifled utterly by the excess fuel, and after a last weak flutter or two, gave up the struggle and delivered the camp to darkness.
It would be impossible to picture the confusion that now reigned. Women were shrieking, babes screaming, men pleading and praying to the fire-god or bawling terrified, panicky orders that no one heeded. One, in a trembling voice, would beg all to be calm; another, in piercing, blood-curdling tones, would call out that he saw a wolf, a bear, a mammoth; now and then there rang forth a wail as of the most terrible anguish; and once, after a particularly hair-raising cry, there came the grumbling of some predatory beast, followed by a rending and a crunching of bones.
And all the while the whole world remained black, deathly black as though there could be no such thing as light. And all the while the rain came down in drenching sheets, and the wind snarled and blustered, and ominous growling things were sneaking through the gloom. Every man stood with club poised, ready to strike—though who, if need be, could strike fast enough?—and thus the long weary hours of the night dragged by, until at length the rain ceased, and the wind, like a weary beast, subsided, and a faint glow came into the sky and showed the hills and woods in shadowy outline, and then at last, after agonies and agonies of waiting, a pale gray streak above the eastern bluffs gave promise of another dawn.
CHAPTER VI
The Wrath of Grumgra
It was a doleful band of migrants that stood revealed in the first dreary light of morning. Shivering and drenched, with soggy fur-mantles and rain-soaked skins from which the slow water dripped and dripped, they looked like beasts just returned from a perilous plunge; and little trace of their usual energy was apparent as they mournfully wandered across the miry soil, or lugubriously eyed their disheveled fellows. More than one bruised arm or gashed thigh or wrenched shoulder bore witness to the panicky scuffle of the night; several of the people were nursing blackened eyes or feeling sullenly at jaws that displayed new-made gaps; while one of the most woebegone of all was he who exhibited an enormous swelling on the head—due to the terror of a kinsman who, mistaking him for a wild beast in the dark, had struck him with a club.
But these were the least of the casualties. In the soft soil at the edge of the encampment, ill-omened five-clawed footprints were to be seen; and in one or two places a new-made crimson patch caused even the most hardy to tremble. Too well the people read the dread meaning!—but at first they had no idea who the victims were, nor even how many victims there had been. In loud-voiced anxiety, each man and woman began to search and cry out for those nearest to him—so that for a while the pandemonium was as great as during the storm. Half-crazed mothers raced about calling stray children; stray children screamed and bawled for missing mothers; great brawny males went searching with angry eyes for their unseen mates, and frenzied women begged for word of their absent men; friend stared into the turbulent mob for lost friend, and wild-eyed striplings for vanished maids; and now and then there would be a scream of exultation as two who had given up hope were reunited.
As time went by, most of the missing were found, for some had gone unobserved amid the blatant mob, and some had taken to the trees in their terror and one by one had returned. But after two or three hours, there were still several who remained unaccounted for; and these included two men, a woman, and three children.
Although it was not the nature of the Umbaddu to give themselves up to orgies of lamentation, still the loss of six persons—particularly when these included two able-bodied men—was recognized as a matter of importance. It was regarded, indeed, almost as a public misfortune, and, in accordance with a custom handed down from remotest times, had to be investigated before a council of the entire tribe. For it was the belief of the Umbaddu that no full-grown man ever came to his death except through the agency of evil spirits: hence, whenever a man died unaccountably, the evil spirit had to be discovered and his human agent appropriately punished.