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
We had in the hut the hind quarter of a fallow deer I had lately killed
in a manner of which I was proud, for I had killed it in the open. I
had seen it from the nearby wood, but at first was hopeless of getting
within bowshot of it. Then an idea had come to me which I followed
quickly. The animal was standing knee deep in the lush, long grass of
the plain, and, seeking another open space not far behind me, I plucked
quantities of this grass and bound it all about me with the strings of
hide I always carried, the grass concealing even most of my head. Then,
crawling upon the ground, I crept into the open and advanced toward the
feeding deer. Looking however closely, one must have been sharp of eye
to detect me. There was none among the hunters of the tribe who could
move as softly and as silently, either afoot or crawling, as could I,
and this time I fairly outdid myself. Nearer I came to the deer until I
was but a few yards away, and then, as softly and slowly as I had later
with the first of the two otters, I rose to my knees and raised my bow
and drove the arrow to the very heart of the game. Somewhat did I boast
of that among my tribesmen.
The hind quarter of this fat beast should be the meat for our feast,
but, on an occasion so great, there must be other things. We must have
fish as well, to go with the wheaten cakes and the wild apples and
beechnuts, and I was resolved that it should be one of the great pike
which were abundant in the deeper water, but which we rarely caught in
the water about the village.
So in the afternoon of the day after the killing of the otters I
prepared for the fishing. I was in great spirits. As I neared the edge
of the platform where my boat was moored I passed old Fir, the oldest
man in the tribe, and a hale old man he was! His face was withered, but
his step was quick and firm and he still worked among the potters, one
of the best of them. He was always cheerful, delighting in his children
and grandchildren and a great-grandchild or two, as well. His presence
was an animating thing for us, and we respected him much and listened
to his advice, which was never unwise. As I spoke with him and looked
upon him, I said to myself that in my old age I would be another like
him! Surely I would live to be as old, for I, Scar, was the strongest
and most full of health of all our clan, the one most able to fend
off evil of any sort. Assuredly I would live as long as had this fine
veteran, who was near an hundred years of age.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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