The Story of Ab: A Tale of the Time of the Cave ManWaterloo, Stanley
Science
The Story of Ab: A Tale of the Time of the Cave Man
Waterloo, Stanley
Prehistoric peoples -- Fiction; Science fiction
It may fairly be borne in mind of this child Ab that he was somewhat
different from the child of to-day, and nearer the quadruped in his
manner of swift development. The puppy though delinquent in the matter of
opening it's eyes, waddles clumsily upon its legs very early in its
career. Ab, of course, had his eyes open from the beginning, and if the
babe of to-day were to stand upright as soon as Ab did, his mother would
be the proudest creature going and his father, at the club, would be
acting intolerable. It must be admitted, though, that neither One-Ear nor
Red-Spot manifested an extraordinary degree of enthusiasm over the
precociousness of their first-born. He was not, for the time, remarkable,
and parents of the day were less prone than now to spoiling children.
Ab's layette had been of beech leaves, his bed had been of beech leaves,
and a beech twig, supple and stinging, had already been applied to him
when he misbehaved himself. As he grew older his acquaintance with it
would be more familiar. Strict disciplinarians in their way, though
affectionate enough after their own fashion, were the parents of
the time.
The existence of this good family of the day continued without dire
misadventure. Ab at nine years of age was a fine boy. There could be no
question about that. He was as strong as a young gibbon, and, it must be
admitted, in certain characteristics would have conveyed to the learned
observer of to-day a suggestion of that same animal. His eyes were bright
and keen and his mouth and nose were worth looking at. His nose was
broad, with nostrils aggressively prominent, and as for his mouth, it was
what would be called to-day excessively generous in its proportions for a
boy of his size. But it did not lack expression. His lips could quiver at
times, or become firmly set, and there was very much of what might, even
then, be called "manliness" in the general bearing of the sturdy little
cave child. He had never cried much when a babe--cave children were not
much addicted to crying, save when very hungry--and he had grown to his
present stature, which was not very great, with a healthfulness and
general manner of buoyancy all the time. He was as rugged a child of his
age as could be found between the shore that lay long leagues westward of
what is now the western point of Ireland and anywhere into middle Europe.
He had begun to have feelings and hopes and ambitions, too. He had found
what his surroundings meant. He had at least done one thing well. He had
made well-received advances toward a friend; and a friend is a great
thing for a boy, when he is another boy of about the same age. This
friendship was not quite commonplace.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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