From time to time Grom would drag his eyes away from their contemplation
of the flames to study intently the charred spots on his club and the
burned, blackened end of his spear. He looked down at the lithe figure of
the watching girl, and laid a great, hairy hand on her shoulder in a musing
caress, as if appraising her, and delighting in her, and finding in her
a mate altogether to his desire, although but a child to his inmost
thoughts. But those sounds of menace from the darkness behind him he
affected not to hear at all. He could see from the girl's eyes that the
menace was not yet close at hand; and since he had learned the power of the
fire, and his own mastery over that power, he felt himself suddenly little
less than a god. The fire was surely something of a god; and if he had
any measure of control over the fire, so as to make it serve him surely,
then still more of the god was there in his own intelligence. His heart
swelled with a pride such as he had never before conceived, and his
brain seethed with vague but splendid possibilities. Never before had
he, though at heart the bravest of his brave clan, been able to listen
to the terrible voices of the cave-bear, the cave-hyena, or the
saber-tooth without fear, without the knowledge that his own safety lay in
flight. Now he feared them not at all.
A louder roaring came out of the shadows, closer than before, and he
saw A-ya's eyes dilate as she clutched at his knee. A slow smile
spread across his bony face, and he turned about, rising to his feet
as he did so, and lifting the girl with him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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