“They will soon learn of my escape,” he thought. “I can be seen and followed across the meadow.” No, the easiest route was not the best. He glanced up at the cliff behind him. It could be scaled—by such as he. The plateau with its rocks and underbrush was a labyrinth3 where he could hide with little fear of being discovered. At the worst, his pursuers would be obliged to separate into groups of two or three to ferret him out and he could then deal with them separately. Even a dozen half-starved men would find him no easy prey4, armed as he was with the blade of Ach Eul.
He retraced5 his steps to the shadow of the rock-wall and glided6 along its base to a point where the[193] cliff arose almost straight upward and without overhang. Here he climbed. At such work, Pic excelled. His flexible hands and feet took advantage of every break in the limestone7 to anchor him firmly while he pulled himself upwards8 with his muscular arms and shoulders. He was a human fly crawling up an almost perpendicular9 wall. A single slip of hand or feet, even a mis-shift of balance, would have sent him crashing to the ground below. A stone dislodged and tumbling noisily down would have betrayed him in an instant. But his head was clear, his heart strong and his iron muscles stood him in good stead. With jaws10 clenched11 on the haft of his ax, he forged steadily12 upward without a mishap13 and reached the summit.
In a moment, he had scrambled14 to safety and was peering over the edge to learn what might be going on in the camp below. No sound nor movement there gave indication that his flight was known. He turned away and made off through the underbrush until he was beyond sight or hearing of the cliffs and therefore reasonably secure. His enemies might now awake and follow, for all he cared. Merely to make certain, he continued his way leisurely15 for some distance, then mounted a rock-pulpit which afforded him a commanding view of the surrounding country. Here he lay down to secure a few moments rest.
[194]
It seemed as though he had no more than closed his eyes and drifted into dreamland when he awoke. A faint glow in the eastern sky showed that day was breaking and that the night had reached its close. In the distance from whence he had come, sounded a faint hum—a low, almost inaudible droning as of angry bees. It might be the cries of wild beasts; but the sound came from the direction of the Ferrassie shelter.
Pic yawned, stretched his limbs and chuckled16 softly to himself. Yes, the Cave-men were wide awake now. They must know by this time that their captive had made his escape. Little good would such knowledge do them. It was amusing to consider that they were probably dashing over the meadows, never dreaming that their prisoner had chosen so cleverly to throw them off the scent17.
He was safe. His enemies must find other means to break their fast. There were other means, he suddenly remembered. His blood chilled at the thought. The old hag had threatened and the time had come when she might make her threat good. If the prisoner escaped, his jailer would be held responsible and be compelled to take his place. Pic’s forehead wrinkled in perplexity. Cave-men were not cannibals by nature but they must eat the food nearest their hands or starve. A young woman’s flesh was far preferable to that of a muscular man.[195] The more Pic considered the matter, the more dissatisfaction he felt with his own present security. His enemies would waste little time pursuing him, as long as his hostage remained in their power. The girl was theirs and would answer the purpose even better than he. It was all very disconcerting, this turn of affairs, just when he was congratulating himself that he had managed so well. He paced up and down among the rocks like a caged lion, biting his lips and beating his hands together.
The girl would be killed and eaten by her people, simply because she had permitted him to escape and herself remain behind. She alone could take his place in the morning’s festivities. This last notion was the one which so disturbed his peace of mind; and yet he rebelled at the very idea. Why should this girl cause him so much concern, simply because she had prolonged his useless life at the expense of her own?
“Ugh,” he growled18. “She must either starve or be eaten and have to die in either case, so why not let her perish and save the others, just as she has saved me.”
In spite of this apparently19 sound logic20, Pic failed to convince himself of its justice. Then, too, the girl had smiled upon him, he suddenly remembered. It was but the faintest glimmer21 of a friendly greeting—but she had smiled.
[196]
With a yell that could have been heard for miles, he leaped down from the rock-pulpit and went bounding off through brake and thicket22, over rock and fallen tree, with the speed of the wind. The sharp rocks and thorns tore his limbs, the vines and branches overhead bruised23 his head and shoulders; but he heeded24 none of them. As he sped over the rock-strewn plateau, the one thought in his mind was: would he reach the Ferrassie shelter before it was too late? Dazed, bleeding and so exhausted25 he could hardly stand, at last he burst into the open and halted on the edge of the cliff overlooking the meadow and Mousterian camp below.
The Cave-folk were all gathered about the butcher-block. Kneeling before it, with head bent26 low, was a slim figure, the sight of which together with the dark form of a man standing27 over her with upraised ax, made Pic’s blood run cold.
Putting hands to his mouth, he uttered a piercing cry that carried clear and strong to the group below. All looked up quickly and saw him as he stood outlined against the blue sky. A chorus of wild, unearthly yells arose:
“The Ape Boy; there he stands! Death to him!” And high and shrill28 above the tumult29, rang out the screams of the old hag:
“After him, every one of you if you would live[197] to see the next sunrise. Seize and bring him to the block.”
The Cave-men answered with savage30 yells and raced to the cliff. In a moment they were swarming31 upward like a pack of famine-maddened wolves. They held their weapons between closed jaws, leaving their limbs free to cling and climb. High above them, Pic leaned over the edge with arms held out imploringly32.
“Faster, faster, clumsy dolts,” he urged the panting men. “Will you lag or must I throw down your next meal upon your heads?”
All paused amazed. They had expected him to turn and flee or at least make some effort to defend himself. He surprised them by doing neither. He had chosen his fate and was prepared to die as he had lived—with a smile upon his lips; and then a strange thing happened.
While Pic was watching the Cave-men swarming up the cliff, he failed to observe a figure approaching from behind him—a four-legged animal with shaggy hide and short, curling horns. This creature was glaring at the man. Its feet were pawing the ground. The shouts and cries infuriated it. They sounded like a challenge to battle.
The animal was a wisent or bison, a lover of meadows and grassy33 plains. For some reason and by some way unknown, it had strayed unwittingly[198] to the heights above the Ferrassie Rock-shelter. The Bison had become nervous amid its unfamiliar34 surroundings. At sight of Pic this nervousness increased to vexation. At sound of the other’s cries, its wrath35 passed all bounds. With a loud snort, it dashed blindly forward in a thunderous charge.
But for the warning snort, Pic would have been overwhelmed in an instant. He glanced quickly behind him and had time only to spring nimbly to one side. The great brute36 swept by so closely, its streaming locks brushed his shoulder. Unconscious of peril37 and unable to check its momentum38, the doomed39 beast plunged40 to the brink41 of the precipice42. Too late, it saw the destruction awaiting it and reared high over the abyss in a last frantic43 effort to escape death; then with a terrified bellow44, down it fell. The forelegs plunged into space and the huge body followed tumbling head over heels in a mad death-whirl to the ground below.
The Cave-men had nearly reached the summit of the cliff when they saw Pic suddenly step back. The next moment, a great hairy body came flying over their heads. A loud crash; and as they gazed below, there lay a full-grown bison quivering in the last agonies of death. All saw and were dumbfounded. They turned to Pic who was leaning forward with arms outstretched like one petrified45 as he peered down upon the brute whose wrath he[199] had so narrowly escaped. The evidence was clear; he had hurled46 the bison down. Had he not urged them to hurry and partake of the feast?
For an instant, they stared in awe47 at the author of their good-fortune, then with one accord, back they scrambled pell-mell the way they had come. As Pic looked down he saw them leap upon the dead bison like a pack of ravenous48 beasts. They howled, shrieked49, screeched50 with joyful51 anticipation52 as they cut and chopped the lifeless animal with their flint-blades. In a jiffy, the hide was ripped and torn off in a dozen gory53 fragments, permitting the Cave-men to set upon the carcass itself. In the meantime, several of the women with some wits left, ran about shouting to their companions to bring fuel and prepare the fire for the coming feast. In a few moments the Rock-shelter was a hive of buzzing activity. The women made ready the fire, stirring the embers and piling on wood while the men carried great hunks of flesh and severed54 limbs to the butcher-block, licking the dripping blood and meat-shreds55 to momentarily ease their hunger until the feast could be prepared and served.
Amid all this excitement and confusion, none thought of Pic. Food, food was the one thing in their minds and naught56 else mattered. Here it was and plenty of it, suddenly come between them and starvation.
[200]
The limbs and body were now dismembered; the head and offal alone remained. The old hag dashed to the fire, waving the bison’s heart sucked dry and bearing the imprints57 of her teeth. One of the men sprang to the shaggy head and pried58 open the mouth.
“Stand back,” thundered a voice. “The tongue is mine,” and there stood Pic with ax held threateningly across his shoulder. The man fell to his knees and stretched out his arms.
“Killer of the Bison!” he shrieked in a frenzy59 of joy. “Tamer of Lions!” his fellows added their exultant60 yells. “The tongue belongs to him. Out with it. May the sun ever shine upon him who has this day saved us from death.”
In a twinkle, Pic had become the man of the hour. By those who would have rent him asunder61, he now was acclaimed62. The tongue was torn from the bison head and presented to him, after which the mob hurried to the fire to sear the meat as fast as it could be cut up and passed on from the butcher-block.
Gradually the shouts and yells became hushed as the Cave-men huddled63 about the now roaring blaze. While some dashed hither and thither64 like mad things, hunting for wooden poles or spits, others wasted no time but held the gory chunks65 over the flames in their bare hands. A few, less fortunate[201] in finding space for themselves about the fire and impatient of delay, squatted66 on the outside of the group and ate their morsels68 raw.
The sombre gloom of the camp which had been so suddenly transformed into a bedlam69 of joy, was again changed to a seething70 ferment71 of sizzling, steaming, crackling flesh and slobbering jaws while the smell of blood and seared meat filled the air and rose to heaven through an inferno72 of black smoke and grease-fed flames.
While the Men of Ferrassie were thus enjoying themselves, gathered about the fire, feasting and revelling73, Pic sought her who had saved him and who in her turn had so miraculously74 escaped death on the butcher-block. While her people hacked75 and tore the dead bison, she stood aloof76 and took no part. As they streamed to the great stone with their gory trophies77, she stepped back and watched the cutting and pounding with hungry eyes. The last shreds were stripped from the carcass and the men were crowding about the fire, leaving her unnoticed when suddenly a broad, thick-set figure appeared at her side.
“The tongue; see; I have saved it for you. Take and eat, it is yours.”
It was Pic who spoke78. He held the reeking79 morsel67 in his outstretched hands. The girl eyed it[202] longingly80, then glanced towards the fire and hesitated.
“I must wait,” she said timidly. “The men have not yet finished. You see there is no place for me.”
Without a word, Pic turned and forced his way into the group, thrusting the greedy feasters roughly aside to make room. A chorus of wild yells greeted his arrival: “Killer of the Bison! Lion Tamer! Stand back and let him roast his fare.”
Those nearest Pic made way while he held the great tongue over the flames until it was well seared. This operation being completed, he left his place by the fire and strode to the butcher-block. With the blade of his ax, he chopped the tongue in two.
“Sit down,” he said. The girl came forward obediently and seated herself upon the great stone. At a sign from Pic, she seized one of the severed morsels and set upon it with her sharp teeth, all the time moaning softly as she ate.
Pic sat down beside her and looked on. When her most pressing hunger-pangs were satisfied, she stopped suddenly and peered up into his face. “You do not eat. None will dispute your share. You threw the Bison down,” and she smiled upon him.
Pic smiled in return. “But I am not hungry,” he replied. This was a fib, for he had fasted since[203] the previous midday and felt hollow to his toes. The girl was not so easily deceived.
“There is plenty; we can both eat,” she said; whereupon he awaited no second invitation but pitched in with a vim81 on that half of the tongue which as yet remained untouched. From then on, the two were silent except for the noises that cave-folk were wont82 to make when rending83 and chewing their food. For lack of words and empty mouths to speak them, they watched each other from the corners of their eyes.
And thus the last were served. Past winter horrors—cold, hunger and disease—were one and all forgotten, for the Ape Boy had suddenly come upon the Men of Ferrassie with food hurled from the sky. The Rock-shelter was now become a horn of plenty where starving men might laugh at death and gorge84 themselves to a surfeit85 after their long fast.
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1
inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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3
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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5
retraced
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| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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limestone
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| n.石灰石 | |
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8
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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9
perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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10
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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13
mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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14
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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15
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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16
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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18
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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19
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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21
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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23
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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24
heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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26
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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27
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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28
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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29
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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30
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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31
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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32
imploringly
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| adv. 恳求地, 哀求地 | |
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33
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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34
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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35
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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36
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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37
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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38
momentum
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| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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39
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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40
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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41
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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42
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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43
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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44
bellow
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| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
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45
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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46
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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47
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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48
ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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49
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
screeched
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的过去式和过去分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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51
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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52
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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53
gory
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| adj.流血的；残酷的 | |
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54
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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55
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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56
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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57
imprints
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| n.压印( imprint的名词复数 )；痕迹；持久影响 | |
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58
pried
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| v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的过去式和过去分词 )；撬开 | |
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59
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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60
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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61
asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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62
acclaimed
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| adj.受人欢迎的 | |
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63
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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64
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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65
chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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66
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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67
morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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68
morsels
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| n.一口( morsel的名词复数 )；（尤指食物）小块，碎屑 | |
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69
bedlam
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| n.混乱，骚乱；疯人院 | |
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70
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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71
ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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72
inferno
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| n.火海；地狱般的场所 | |
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73
revelling
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| v.作乐( revel的现在分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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74
miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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75
hacked
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| 生气 | |
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76
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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77
trophies
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| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
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78
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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79
reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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80
longingly
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| adv. 渴望地 热望地 | |
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81
vim
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| n.精力，活力 | |
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82
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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83
rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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84
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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85
surfeit
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| v.使饮食过度；n.(食物)过量，过度 | |
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