_Uk:_
What further madness is this? How shall they be pieces of two things that are not the same? Also it was not thus in the song.
_Oan:_
I will make me a new song. We do change the shape of wood and stone, but a song is made out of nothing. Ho! ho! I can fashion things from nothing! Also I say that the stars come down at morning and become the dew.
_Uk:_
Let us have no more of these stars. It may be that a song is a good thing, if it be of what a man knoweth. Thus, if thou singest of my club, or of the bear that I slew, of the stain on the Stone, or the cave and the warm leaves in the cave, it might be well.
_Oan:_
I will make thee a song of Ala!
_Uk (furiously):_
Thou shalt make me no such song! Thou shalt make me a song of the deer-liver that thou hast eaten! Did I not give to thee of the liver of the she-deer, because thou didst bring me crawfish?
_Oan:_
Truly I did eat of the liver of the she-deer; but to sing thereof is another matter.
_Uk:_
It was no labour for thee to sing of the stars. See now our clubs and casting-stones, with which we slay flesh to eat; also the caves in which we dwell, and the Stone whereon we make sacrifice; wilt thou sing no song of those?
_Oan:_
It may be that I shall sing thee songs of them. But now, as I strive here to sing of the doe"s liver, no words are born unto me: I can but sing, "O liver! O red liver!"
_Uk:_
That is a good song: thou seest that the liver is red. It is red as blood.
_Oan:_
But I love not the liver, save to eat of it.
_Uk:_
Yet the song of it is good. When the moon is full we shall sing it about the Stone. We shall beat upon our b.r.e.a.s.t.s and sing, "O liver! O red liver!" And all the women in the caves shall be affrightened.
_Oan:_
I will not have that song of the liver! It shall be Ok"s song; the tribe must say, "Ok hath made the song!"
_Ok:_
Ay! I shall be a great singer; I shall sing of a wolf"s heart, and say, "Behold, it is red!"
_Uk:_
Thou art a fool, and shalt sing only, "Hai, hai!" as thy father before thee. But Oan shall make me a song of my club, for the women listen to his songs.
_Oan:_
I will make thee no songs, neither of thy club, nor thy cave, nor thy doe"s-liver. Yea! though thou give me no more flesh, yet will I live alone in the forest, and eat the seed of gra.s.ses, and likewise rabbits, that are easily snared. And I will sleep in a tree-top, and I will sing nightly:
The bright day is gone.
The night maketh me sad, sad, sad, sad, sad, sad--
_Uk:_
Ok and Un, arise and slay!
(_Ok and Un rush upon Oan, who stoops and picks up two casting-stones, with one of which he strikes Ok between the eyes, and with the other mashes the hand of Un, so that he drops his club. Uk arises._)
_Uk:_
Behold! Gurr cometh! he cometh swiftly from the wood!
(_The Tribe, including Oan and Ala, rush for the cave-mouths. As Oan pa.s.ses Uk, the latter runs behind Oan and crushes his skull with a blow of his club._)
_Uk:_
O men! O men with the heart of hyenas! Behold, Gurr cometh not! I did but strive to deceive you, that I might the more easily slay this singer, who is very swift of foot.... Gather ye before me, for I would speak wisdom.... It is not well that there be any song among us other than what our fathers sang in the past, or, if there be songs, let them be of such matters as are of common understanding. If a man sing of a deer, so shall he be drawn, it may be, to go forth and slay a deer, or even a moose. And if he sing of his casting-stones, it may be that he become more apt in the use thereof. And if he sing of his cave, it may be that he shall defend it more stoutly when Gurr teareth at the boulders. But it is a vain thing to make songs of the stars, that seem scornful even of me; or of the moon, which is never two nights the same; or of the day, which goeth about its business and will not linger though one pierce a she-babe with a flint. But as for me, I would have none of these songs. For if I sing of such in the council, how shall I keep my wits? And if I think thereof, when at the chase, it may be that I babble it forth, and the meat hear and escape. And ere it be time to eat, I do give my mind solely to the care of my hunting-gear. And if one sing when eating, he may fall short of his just portion. And when, one hath eaten, doth not he go straightway to sleep? So where shall men find a s.p.a.ce for singing? But do ye as ye will: as for me, I will have none of these songs and stars.
Be it also known to all the women that if, remembering these wild words of Oan, they do sing them to themselves, or teach them to the young ones, they shall be beaten with brambles. Cause swiftly that the wife of Ok cease from her wailing, and bring hither the horses that were slain yesterday, that I may apportion them. Had Oan wisdom, he might have eaten thereof; and had a mammoth fallen into our pit, he might have feasted many days. But Oan was a fool!
_Un:_
Oan was a fool!
_All the Tribe:_
Oan was a fool!
FINIS
It was the last of Morganson"s bacon. In all his life he had never pampered his stomach. In fact, his stomach had been a sort of negligible quant.i.ty that bothered him little, and about which he thought less. But now, in the long absence of wonted delights, the keen yearning of his stomach was tickled hugely by the sharp, salty bacon.
His face had a wistful, hungry expression. The cheeks were hollow, and the skin seemed stretched a trifle tightly across the cheek-bones. His pale blue eyes were troubled. There was that in them that showed the haunting imminence of something terrible. Doubt was in them, and anxiety and foreboding. The thin lips were thinner than they were made to be, and they seemed to hunger towards the polished frying-pan.