The wonder stick

by Stanton A. Coblentz

Not far below the divide, and just above the border of the woods, Ru paused in sudden consternation. His watchful eyes had detected a little reddened bit of stone in a crevice between two boulders—one of the flint knives used by his people! Stooping down eagerly and seizing the implement, he examined it in uncertainty—could the clotted blood on the edge be that of some slaughtered beast? There was no possibility of proof; but Ru remembered once more the man-eating savages he had encountered, and wondered with what bloodthirsty foe his tribe had clashed.

A few yards farther down the slope he found other signs to confirm his misgivings. From a clump of dense brush he observed a bit of fur protruding; and he pulled forth a long strip of bison hide of the size of one of his tribesmen's robes! In the center it was pierced as by some half blunt implement; and on the ragged edge of the cut were streaks and blots of crimson.

As if this evidence were not sufficient, the very ground beneath him bore witness to a conflict. In places the weeds and shrubs had been crushed or uprooted, and lay torn and broken in withering masses; in places even the stones seemed to have been dislocated, and sharply outlined holes in the soil testified to where large rocks had been; while in one spot there was a blur of footprints, crowding on top of each other, and most of them half obliterated—some pointing up-hill and some down-hill, as though from the mad surging of a multitude.

Half persuaded that some dire fate had overtaken his people, Ru hastened on into the woods, guided by a swarm of tracks, which might have been those of his tribesmen and might have been those of their foes. What terrific struggle had taken place during his absence? He asked himself again and again, as he glided noiselessly through those dim winding forest spaces. In his mind there was no longer a doubt that his people had battled some strange tribe; but what the issue of the conflict had been, and how many of his kinsmen had survived to tell the tale, were questions for which he could have no answers.

Nor did he expect an answer for several days—if at all. If the Umbaddu had fled before some marauding foe, they must already be many hours away. And what if the enemy barred the path between him and his people, so that he would have no way of reaching them?

But a great surprise lay in store for him. Approaching a break in the forest not half a dozen miles below the scene of the ominous footprints, he was startled by hearing a faint murmuring of voices, which gradually grew louder as he stole warily forward through the shadows, until it was recognizable as the gibbering of a multitude.

A shudder of fear shot through Ru's heart. Might he not again be approaching a settlement of the man-eaters? Halting abruptly, he stood as though petrified; his impulse was to flee while flight might still be of avail. Yet once again curiosity mastered him—curiosity, and a glad surmise which seemed too fantastic to be true. Cautious not to expose his presence by a sound or a gesture, he crept forward inch by inch like a prowling cat, his shoulders bent far toward the ground, his arms reaching down beneath his knees, his frightened gray eyes alert for the least suspicious sound or movement.

But there was nothing suspicious to interrupt his progress. And at length, after a few minutes that seemed interminable, he reached the final line of the bushes; at length he was able to push the concealing leaves gently aside, and to peer out upon the meadow from which the gibbering voices still proceeded.

At the first glance, he uttered a low exclamation of relief. And impetuously he rose to his full height—the need for concealment was over!

Sprawled in a rude circle by the banks of a river, were scores of familiar fur-clad figures!