Picking his way warily through the thicket while the muttering and snarling gave place to a savage howling, Ru found himself approaching a little open space where great shadowy forms were to be seen in violent motion. Cautious as a panther stalking its prey, careful not to rustle a twig or a leaf, he crept forward inch by inch. His thin shoulders were bent far down; his fingers at times touched the ground; his watchful eyes glittered with uncanny alertness. Meanwhile the shouts and screams grew louder and louder, each moment more frenzied and terrible—and again there came the shrill call of a woman!
As that cry rang forth, Ru stole forward to a tiny break in the bushes. Still unseen although able to see all, he peered out upon the grassy floor of a small glade—and what he viewed held him as speechless as if he had confronted a ghost.
Writhing and twisting furiously on the ground, two men were in deadly conflict. Their deerskin mantles had been torn from them; their clubs lay beside them on the grass; their huge hairy bodies were bent and convulsed in desperate battle. Gripping one another with a python-like hold, each seemed bent on tearing his adversary to bits; their long arms clutched and pulled at resisting sinews, their great jaws snapped, their stout legs frenziedly kicked and strained. Over and over they rolled, first one on top and then the other, a contorted, swift-moving mass of muscle and black hair; over and over, muttering and groaning, their hands and faces streaked with red, the ground beneath them dotted with red blurs; over and over, over and over, so fast the eye could hardly follow their motions as crooked fingers tugged at bleeding throats and chests, and wolfish crimson teeth cut and slashed.
It was long before Ru, staring out from his green hiding-place, had recognized the combatants. But finally, when there came a lull, and both contestants momentarily relaxed their efforts, he distinguished the blood-smeared faces of two of his tribesmen: Woonoo the Hot-Blooded and Kuff the Bear-Hunter! And seated at the opposite edge of the thicket, watching the fight with calm detachment, he beheld another whom he well knew—Yonyo the Smiling-Eyed!
Evidently she had not seen him, and he himself was so absorbed in watching the struggle that he scarcely noticed her. Even as he espied her, the fighters began to grapple with renewed energy, coming to a clinch that threatened a swift, fatal ending. Now, as the two men writhed on the ground, Kuff on top, Woonoo beneath, the long stout fingers of the Bear-Hunter fumbled for the neck of his foe; now they were closing over Woonoo's throat, closing and pressing down with fiendish fierceness. The little eyes of Woonoo were bulging out of his head, his tongue was lolling from his great, wide-open mouth, he sent forth a series of gasps and half-stifled groans, and his arms and legs twitched convulsively.
And, but for a timely interruption, the story of Woonoo would have been over.
Just as the murderous fingers were tightening about the doomed man's throat, Ru, forgetting himself, uttered a low excited cry.
Kuff, looking up in alarm, released his hands from the prostrate Woonoo. But Ru had withdrawn instantly into the thicket; and many seconds passed while Kuff stood staring at the shrubbery for sight of the intruder. During the interval, Woonoo clutched at his throat, and began slowly to recover; he groaned, stirred a little, and sucked in the air in long-drawn agonized gulps; then, casting bloodshot eyes at his adversary, he began to creep abjectly away, first crawling on hands and knees like a prisoner escaping, then rising and tottering toward the edge of the woods. But Kuff did not seem even to notice him; his attention was still concentrated upon the unknown foe among the bushes.
Yonyo, meanwhile, had sat watching with an air of utter indifference; neither when Woonoo was vanquished nor when he escaped did she show any sign of emotion. But as the gory form of the defeated one went slumping away into the bushes, she seemed suddenly to realize that she might be something more than an observer.
Convinced at last that there was no enemy in hiding, Kuff had turned to garner the fruits of victory; and with tiny eyes that twinkled wickedly, he stood gaping toward Yonyo. Never too prepossessing, with his huge squat figure and apish countenance, he was particularly hideous now; on his shoulder was a great newly healed scar that added to the natural ferocity of his aspect; on his face were long streaks of blood, while his thick black hair was blood-matted, mud-caked and disheveled, and little crimson patches stared from a hundred places on his unclothed body.