A Son of the Ages: The Reincarnations and Adventures of Scar, the Link: A Story of Man From the BeginningWaterloo, Stanley
Science
A Son of the Ages: The Reincarnations and Adventures of Scar, the Link: A Story of Man From the Beginning
Waterloo, Stanley
Prehistoric peoples -- Fiction; Science fiction
I was two days on my journey and reached the bay as night was coming
on. I made a fire, turning a sharpened stick swiftly into a dry one,
as was our way--the fire being necessary to keep at a distance the
prowling beasts--and, after eating my supper of dried venison and
fish, lay down to sleep. It was not for long. I was awakened by noises
in the wood to the north, and, seizing my weapons, slipped into the
dense bushes at the edge of the forest. The noise I had heard was
that of the loud voices of men, and I did not know who these strange
wanderers might be. They emerged presently upon the beach, a great
company of men, women and children. Some of the men gathered about my
fire curiously and there was discussion, but they made no search in the
wood. They thought, doubtless, that it had been built by some wandering
hunter whom their advance had frightened. They were right in that. My
apprehension did not go when, as they began the building of many more
fires, intending to encamp, I had a good view of them in the light of
the growing flames.
The men were a stalwart lot and somewhat more fierce of aspect than
were the men of my own clan. The women, too, seemed fuller breasted
and more robust. One I noted particularly, a magnificent creature with
yellow hair, who was moving about the fire, where stood a big man who
seemed in authority and whom I recognized at once. It was old Horsen,
chief of the migrating clan, and this was to be one of their stations
on the march. I liked not the look of Horsen. I went farther into the
forest and made myself a bed of leaves in a thicket, kindling no fire
to attract the notice of the wanderers. As for the dangerous wild
beast, bear, wolf or lynx, they would not remain in the region of the
noisy camp. I slept soundly.
I awoke as day was breaking and, for a time, was undecided what to do,
though, certainly, my first object must be to learn from their actions
if the invaders thought to encamp by the little bay for any length of
time. I crept cautiously to a place near the wide stretch of beach
where the trees and bushes were thickest and, peering out from there,
saw what convinced me that the band would remain there for some days,
probably to renew their supplies by hunting and fishing. They had
brought with them a number of light canoes, such as could be easily
carried by two men, and, early as it was, I saw fishermen out upon
the waters. The rude skin tents erected were pegged down firmly, the
people near the morning fires were moving about slowly, while, here and
there, were men engaged in examining their bows and other weapons, and
consulting together and pointing in different directions. Apparently
they were going on a hunt. I felt assured they would not depart from
the region at once.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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