"Nonsense," said the woman. She went back to the cave and the young man put the end of his spear into the fire and tried to scrape the side of the pot with the flint head, but the flint was cold and it cracked. He pulled it back and was looking angrily at it when she came out again and sat on the ground. She had an armful of roots which she began to scrape with a sharp stone. "The spearhead is made of the wrong sort of stone," she said, without looking up. "That is why it broke in the fire." "It's made of the _right_ kind!" the young man shouted. "All spearheads are made of that kind! They always have been and they always will be! How did _you_ know it broke in the fire? You weren't looking." "I heard it make the sound it makes when the fire breaks it." The young man glowered and pushed his under lip out. "This kind of stone was put in the cave for us to make knives and spears. And it makes a very sharp edge when you know how to form it." "No sharper than this knife," she said, holding up the stone in her hand. "This doesn't break so easily." The young man took it and examined it carefully. "How do you strike it to make it this shape?" he said, and then, grudgingly, "It is very smooth--a very good shape." "You don't strike it," she said, taking it back and going on scraping the roots. "You rub it on another stone--first on the kind that has the bright sparkles in it, and then under water on the flat gray kind. It's much better than your knives and the fire doesn't break it so easily." * * * * * She finished with the roots and put them in the pot with the meat. "Where do you find such big roots?" the young man asked his brother. "Over there," the brother said, pointing to a patch of earth nearby. "_She_ finds them there." "I don't find them," she said. "I put them there in the first place." "You mean you store them in the earth?" the young man said. "No. I put the tops in the ground--the blue and yellow flowers--and next warm season I dig and there are the new roots. You have to put water on the earth when it gets dry. Also you have to pull up all the small plants that grow there among them. It's very hard work." "More magic," said the young man. "It's not magic!" she said. "You are stupid. Haven't you noticed that when you leave an acorn on the ground, it breaks open and a finger goes down into the earth? And then, after the next rains, it makes little leaves--and if you leave it alone, it grows and in time becomes a young tree?" "Everyone knows that," the young man said disdainfully. "Well, this is the same." "Yes, but what makes the roots so big? I never saw any like these." "That's because I only take the flowers from the plants that have the biggest roots. And if any of the new roots are little, I throw away the flowers from them. Far away." "What do you do with the little roots?" "Eat them." "I don't understand. If you eat the little roots, why don't you get little roots?"