Dreams -- Fiction; Fantasy fiction; Prehistoric peoples -- Fiction
By the time we had paddled well out into the current, we had drifted so
far downstream that we were in full view of the Fire People’s
abiding-place. So occupied were we with our paddling, our eyes fixed
upon the other bank, that we knew nothing until aroused by a yell from
the shore. We looked around. There were the Fire People, many of them,
looking at us and pointing at us, and more were crawling out of the
caves. We sat up to watch, and forgot all about paddling. There was a
great hullabaloo on the shore. Some of the Fire-Men discharged their
bows at us, and a few of the arrows fell near us, but the range was too
great.
It was a great day for Lop-Ear and me. To the east the conflagration we
had started was filling half the sky with smoke. And here we were,
perfectly safe in the middle of the river, encircling the Fire People’s
stronghold. We sat and laughed at them as we dashed by, swinging south,
and southeast to east, and even to northeast, and then east again,
southeast and south and on around to the west, a great double curve
where the river nearly tied a knot in itself.
As we swept on to the west, the Fire People far behind, a familiar
scene flashed upon our eyes.
It was the great drinking-place, where we had wandered once or twice to
watch the circus of the animals when they came down to drink. Beyond
it, we knew, was the carrot patch, and beyond that the caves and the
abiding-place of the horde. We began to paddle for the bank that slid
swiftly past, and before we knew it we were down upon the
drinking-places used by the horde. There were the women and children,
the water carriers, a number of them, filling their gourds. At sight of
us they stampeded madly up the run-ways, leaving behind them a trail of
gourds they had dropped.
We landed, and of course we neglected to tie up the catamaran, which
floated off down the river. Right cautiously we crept up a run-way. The
Folk had all disappeared into their holes, though here and there we
could see a face peering out at us. There was no sign of Red-Eye. We
were home again. And that night we slept in our own little cave high up
on the cliff, though first we had to evict a couple of pugnacious
youngsters who had taken possession.
CHAPTER XIV
The months came and went. The drama and tragedy of the future were yet
to come upon the stage, and in the meantime we pounded nuts and lived.
It was a good year, I remember, for nuts. We used to fill gourds with
nuts and carry them to the pounding-places. We placed them in
depressions in the rock, and, with a piece of rock in our hands, we
cracked them and ate them as we cracked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account