The wonder stick

by Stanton A. Coblentz

As for the people themselves, they were transported one by one, some of the younger folk shouting with joy, some of the less reckless shivering and frightened, a few of the children shrieking and crying, one or two of the older women wringing their hands or beating their breasts at the thought of crossing to a land from which they might never return. Yet of actual casualties there were very few; now and then, indeed, a passenger did fall into the river, but never with fatal results; now and then someone was bruised or injured in the excitement of landing, but always the wounds were trivial and soon forgotten. And, on the whole, the people crossed confidently enough, for did not Ru say a prayer to the river-god every time a new raft was launched? and did they not know that his magic was powerful to protect them?

Yet, during the time of the passage, the fortunes of the tribe were fast ebbing. There was now an encampment on each side of the river, and on each side a daily hunt was held, although usually without result, except when one of the hunters chanced to slay some small creature with clubs, or with pebbles from his rabbit-skin pouch. And now the tribe dined mostly upon roots, herbs, and berries, supplemented by a sort of paste which the women made from the bark of a tree ground up with beetles, grubs, and grasshoppers. But these were the rations of famine—and as the days went by and no relief appeared in sight, the complaints and wailings of the hungry throng grew more desperate and louder.

Only in the words of Ru could they find any hope. "Do not be sad, my people," he would say. "The river-god has told me that after we have all crossed we shall go to a land of plenty." And his evident cheerfulness served as a prop for the people's drooping spirits.

But Ru, more than any of the others, had reason to be cheerful. Was not this his moment of triumph? Did not the people look at him with wondering eyes, as they once had looked only at Grumgra and Zunzun? Did they not call him the Eagle-Hearted? and did he not overhear them murmuring that he was a magician, an enchanter more powerful than the Marvel-Worker himself?

Even Yonyo, he was not sorry to learn, seemed to share in the general awe at his deeds. Ever since that memorable day when he had threatened her with his club, she had kept at a safe distance from him, and he was still too angry with her to seek her as his deeper desires urged. Yet at times, when suddenly he would look up from some absorbing task and with quick gaze would isolate her from amid the throng, he would catch in her eyes a light he had never seen there before—a light almost fond, almost tender, yet tinged with just a little of distant admiration. And seeing that which surprised and delighted him, Ru pretended to have noticed nothing at all, but held himself more firmly aloof from her than ever.

Indeed, he found himself indulging in wiles that matched her own! When he beheld her strolling in his direction, he would turn aside and pretend not to have seen; when she called to him, his ears would be closed and he would not hear; when she stared in his direction, he would merely stare back as though through a wall of stone.

Thus matters continued for many days—continued, indeed, until the people had almost completed the passage of the river and only a score remained on the northern bank. Among these, in addition to Ru, were Grumgra and Zunzun; also Yonyo, who seemed determined to remain on the same side of the river as Ru; also Kuff the Bear-Hunter and Woonoo the Hot-Blooded, who had apparently made up their minds to stay where Yonyo stayed. Evidently the withdrawal of a majority of the people had meant a relaxing of restraints; for, before the last of the tribe had attempted to cross, there occurred a little drama that added unexpected variety and flavor to life.

Early one morning Ru was propelling himself down-stream on a small raft he had constructed for his own exclusive use, when he was startled by a series of shouts, groans and horrible oaths arising from a thicket near the river bank. Alarmed, he ceased paddling and stood still to watch. The shouts and oaths continued, in tones still more ferocious, punctuated suddenly by the shrill cry of a woman—a cry he could not fail to recognize!

Not a second did he waste. Leaving the raft to drift as it would, he plunged into the water and hastily swam the few yards to land; then, drawing himself up upon the rocky bank, he paused for an instant to listen again.

The cries had died down to a confusion of mutterings and snarls, like the grumblings of angered beasts; and through the intervening tangle of foliage a sound as of heavy breathing came to his ears.