by J. H. Rosny
One evening Aoun said, "It is time to renew the alliance; Aoun and Zouhr will go into the cave on a day when the tiger of the Kzamms has had a successful hunt.”
Zouhr did not refuse, although he was less prompt than his companion in risking his life. The alliance was his work; he often thought of it with satisfaction, and he told himself that there would no longer be any danger for them if they were certain never to be menaced by the lion of the rocks. . . .
One morning they saw the body of a large antelope in the cave. One of its legs had been sufficient to appease the carnivore's hunger; it was sleeping heavily, tired with hunting and gorged with meat.
"We will go and see him when he wakes up,” said Aoun, “he will not require any prey for two nights.”
They thought of it as they wandered near the river, or rested in the shade of the rocks. The fierce sunlight burnt up the dry ground and gave endless life to the damp places. Hardly a sign of animal life was to be seen on the plain; eagles and falcons hid themselves, cranes and herons remained invisible; only from the distance came the snorting of a hippopotamus as it plunged back into the water, or the form of an alligator could be seen lying on the water in torpid repose.
Towards mid-day Aoun and Zouhr became drowsy. Then they fell into vague reveries, sitting on the ledge. The rock, which at first had been broiling, grew cool as the shadows lengthened, and a gentle breeze sprang up and played about the men’s chests. They were conscious of many things within themselves which they were unable to express. It was the voluptuous feeling of youth and abundance, the sudden melancholy moods called forth by the thought of their faraway Horde, by the remembrance of hunting scenes, of the departure of the Oulhamrs towards the South-East, of mountains and the subterranean river, and the wonderful pictures which their imaginations drew of the unknown land.
When Aoun half shut his eyes, he could see again the dholes, hyenas and wolves before their fire screen, the sabretooth killing the rhinoceros, and himself killing the sabretooth. His heart began to beat again; victory flowed before his eyes like a river, and the desire to continue his conquests tightened all the Oulhamr’s muscles. He thought of the lions as they prowled round the creeper hut, of the elephants stamping down the soil, the python devouring the antelope. Zouhr’s imagination was haunted by similar pictures, but they took on other forms and details: he preferred to think of the giant feline. Aoun thought of it also and was impatient for the hour of dusk.
When the sun began to grow red, they went down to the depths of the cave. The beast no longer slept, it had caught hold of the antelope again and was gnawing its shoulder.
"Let us go towards it,” said Aoun.
The son of Earth yielded to the desire of the Oulhamr. His courage was of slower growth, but when a project had once taken root in his mind he was as ready to risk his life as Aoun.
They re-ascended the ledge, then descended to the foot of the chain of rocks. The herds had drunk their fill and were looking for a place in which to spend the night; parakeets made the dusk hideous with their strident shrieks; a gibbon crouched on the ground, then bounded back among the palm trees. In the sunset light, Aoun and Zouhr walked round the rocks and came close to the cave.
Then Aoun said, "I will go first.”
That was always his way; he went in front of Zouhr and exposed himself first to any danger. This time Zouhr resisted, saying, “The lion of the rocks knows me best. It is better that I should be between him and Aoun.”
There was no pride between the two men. Each one valued the resources that lay within the other and reaped security from them. Aoun considered that Zouhr was right.
“Go,” he said.
He held his club in his left hand and his strongest spear in his right. At that moment he had a better idea of the danger than the son of Earth. They looked at each other; an eagle gave its war-cry on a summit of basalt; six enormous gaurs fled in the glen. Zouhr walked quietly and his form stood out before the shadowy hole. He disappeared. Again he was face to face with the sovereign beast. It stopped tearing the antelope’s flesh; the green fire of its eyes seemed to envelope the form of the Man-without-Shoulders. He said in a low voice, "The men have come to renew the alliance . . . The time of the rains is approaching, when prey will be hard to find and difficult to take. Then the lion of the rocks 'will have the cunning of Aoun and Zouhr on his sidel”
The giant feline half shut and reopened his eyes, then it rose in its nonchalant strength and came towards the man. Its head brushed against Zouhr’s shoulder, and he passed his hand along the stiff mane. When they are touched, the most savage animals feel confidence. There was no longer any fear in the breast of the son of Earth. Several times he repeated the movement and even slowly rubbed the animal’s spine. The wild beast remained motionless breathing quietly. . . .
Zouhr still hesitated to call his companion when a shadow appeared before the cave. Aoun was there, still holding his club and spear. The giant feline ceased to purr, its thick-set muzzle with its shining fangs opened. The skin on its head made great pleats, its muscles contracted and the green fire of its eyes shone phosphorescent.
“Aoun is also the ally of the lion of the rocks,” murmured the Man-without-Shoulders. “Aoun and Zouhr live together in the cave above. . . .”
The monster gave a bound; the Oulhamr grasped his club; but Zouhr placed himself in front of his companion, and the immense chest ceased to heave; the alliance was complete.
They came back on the following days; the giant feline became accustomed to seeing them and desired their presence. The immense solitude of the world was distasteful to him; he was young, and from his birth until the previous autumn he had lived with others of his kind. Down the course of the stream he had had a den on the border of a lake, with his mate. His little ones had already begun to hunt. One night the lake rose tumultuously, the waters overflowed the brushwood, a cyclone carried away the palm trees, a torrent engulfed the mother with her young, and the male lion, carried down with the big trees, was washed up in the open country. . . .
The old den remained under water for a whole season. . . . The desolate male had sought for it at first with vehement and dogged anxiety; his roars had summoned his race in the autumn rains; vivid memories had shot through his dull brain . . . Days went by; the giant feline discovered the chain of rocks and took refuge there from the cataracts of the clouds. An obscure sadness made his sides grow lean; when he woke in the morning he smelt all round the cavern, and when he brought back his prey, he looked all about him as if he expected to find those who used to share it with him. In the end these recollections became dim and finally disappeared. He grew accustomed to smelling no other creature at his side, but his body could not resign itself to the dullness of being alone. . . .
One evening Aoun and Zouhr accompanied him in the chase. They all three passed into the jungle, where the light of the half moon made patterns on the earth. Alarmed by the smell of the carnivore, the herb-cropping animals awoke in their lairs. They all retreated to the innermost recesses, or climbed into the branches of trees. Those of them who lived in herds warned each other mysteriously of the danger. In the midst of these innumerable lives, he remained as if in a desert. The power of immense bulk was always defeated by the keen senses, the ruses, the agility and the subtleness of the feeble ones. With one movement he could kill the wild ass, the antelope, the wild board or the nylghau; with one bound he could overthrow a horse or even a gaur; but they knew how to hide in impenetrable places, or to vanish into the distance. It was only their numbers that favoured the sovereign beast, for it caused them to swarm in every part of the plains, the woods and the jungle.
In spite of all his advantages, when day dawned it often found the great feline, tired with his efforts and out of patience, returning famished to the chain of rocks. On this particular night he was unable for a long time to capture an axis or an antelope. His strong pungent odour, to which was added the more delicate scent of the men, enlarged the limits of the area
into which the fugitives took care not to intrude.
At last he lay in ambush on the confines of a jungle and a marsh. Strongly-scented flowers spread their smell around, the earth was redolent of musk and rottenness. The men had separated themselves from him and had also hidden, one among the rushes and the other in a clump of bamboos. All the animals had fled. Enormous batrachians roared like gayals; in the distance there was the sound of a galloping herd; an owl flew by on downy wings; then a wild boar passed, tearing up the soil with its tusks. . . .
It was a heavily-built animal, with thick neck and shoulders and slender legs, and it - came on in a surly manner puffing and grunting. It knew its own strength, and a slow heavy kind of courage animated its grey, bristle-covered body. It had put the leopards to flight, it disdained the hyenas, routed the dholes and the wolves; it would stand up to a lion if flight were impossible or a wound had infuriated it. The consciousness of having defeated all who had attacked it, made it less vigilant.
The wild boar reached the rushes where Zouhr was standing and, suddenly smelling his presence, stopped. The scent reminded it of the gibbon or the rhesus monkey, from whom it knew that it had nothing to fear. It merely grunted and passed on towards the bamboos. Then, in order to turn it towards the giant feline, Aoun shouted his war-cry, which was at once repeated by the son of Earth. The wild boar retreated, not because it was afraid, but from motives of prudence. A trap lurked always in the unknown! Neither the rhesus nor the gibbon had that singular voice. At the second cry it flung itself in the direction where the giant feline lay in ambush. A colossal form rose up; the wild boar thrust furiously with its tusks, but the beast which was upon it had almost the weight of a buffalo. It stumbled, its sides were tom open, and a pair of granite-like jaws were sunk in its throat. . . . The red flow of life gushed out, and the wild boar sank on the grass in the throes of death.
When the prey was safely in the cave, Aoun wished to test whether the alliance was complete. He took his axe and cut off a leg of the wild boar; the giant feline did not interfere.
The men knew then that their strength had become as great as that of a horde.
They hunted many times with the great feline. Often they went long distances from the den, or their prey kept ever further away from the domicile of the terrible inhabitant of the rocks. Aoun’s heart beat high. He aspired to yet more distant expeditions; impatient curiosity urged him on. One morning he said to Zouhr, “It is good that we should know the hunting grounds. . . . Perhaps many beasts will go further off in the autumn. Will Zouhr accompany me beyond the haunts of the tigers?”
Zouhr had never refused to accompany his companion. Although his curiosity was less vagabond, it still was great, and intensified by youth.
“We will go and see the lands where the river goes," he said.
They sharpened their weapons, dried and smoked some meat, roasted some roots, and set off just as the sun, in all its grandeur, was rising above the further bank, deeper in colour than the reddest of minium. Zouhr did not leave the cave without some regrets. He had lived in security and abundance there, and he had concluded an alliance with the great feline. But the soul of Aoun urged on his steps towards unexplored regions.
They advanced without difficulty until the middle of the day, and even after the noon-day sleep, which the heat of the sun made obligatory. Aoun’s sharp eyes and his dhole-like sense of smell discovered the reptiles on their path; the carnivores slept, and only insects troubled them. Red headed flies buzzed unbearably, and followed the odour of meat in myriads; stinging gnats flitted in the shade, and the wanderers had to guard against the great hornets, six or seven of which could kill a man. When they halted the neighbourhood of the white ants had to be avoided.
It was late when they reached the confluence. Aoun knew the river, having crossed it many times. He guided Zouhr over the line of erratic blocks, and brought him to the tigers’ hunting grounds. Then everything became terrible. During the day the lion is in his lair. Like man he prefers a fixed abode, to which he always returns. But the tiger prowls everywhere, and makes his resting place wherever the fortunes of the chase or the chance of his wanderings may lead him; he is content with places which would repel other wild animals . . . Therefore man cannot foresee his movements and cannot tell which way to take to avoid him . . .
The Oulhamr and the son of Earth walked at a little distance from each other, so as to increase the area of their observation. At first the presence of the herb-cropping animals assisted them: antelopes, saigas, gaurs and panolia deer would not have had their feeding grounds in the neighbourhood of the tigers. When the land became empty round them, the nomads suffered tortures of anxiety. The country was varied: in some parts the jungle opened out into clear spaces, savannahs and marshes, in others the bamboos and palmtrees grew close together. Aoun thought it better to return towards the river, because the many islands in it promised safety. The solitude of the land became ever more profound, while the water was teeming with life. The wake of long alligators could be seen among the islands; hordes of webfooted creatures and waders dabbled in the coves, and sleeping pythons displayed their clammy coils.
"We have come near to the tigers,” said Zouhr in a low voice.
Aoun, listening intently, advanced at a slow pace. The jungle, which at first had lain far from the bank, was now close to it, a tangled mass of prickly growth covered with creepers.
The son of Earth stopped and said, "It is here that the tigers come down to the river to drink.”
He pointed out an opening in the brushwood. Other signs revealed themselves and Zouhr bent down to examine them more closely. They still exhaled an acrid odour.
He whispered, "They have passed this way.”
Zouhr was trembling with excitement. Aoun anxiously made ready his spear. It seemed as if something of the wild beasts themselves had remained there with their emanations. ... A crackling sound was heard in the thicket. The two men became as motionless as trees. Flight was useless. If the wild beasts were near, there was nothing left but to fight . . . But nothing appeared. Aoun sniffed the gentle breeze wafted from the jungle and said, "The tigers are still far away.” *
They resumed their journey, making haste to pass the danger zone. Soon the jungle joined the actual river bank and as it became still more impenetrable at the edge, the men were obliged to change their direction and plunge inland among the bamboos.
Finally they reached a place where some herbivores were feeding. As twilight was coming on they tried to find a suitable place for a camp. There was no sign of a rock as far as the eye could reach, and it was no longer possible to reach an island: The country was enveloped in jungle; evening would be upon them before they could reach the water.
Zouhr discovered a group of seven bamboos, which, as they grew close together, formed a kind of enclosure. Three of the interstices were so narrow that a man could not pass between them; Aoun and Zouhr could just squeeze in sideways through two of the others, but it would be impossible for a lion or a tiger to make its way through them. The two last were more than an ell wide at the base, but grew narrower towards the top, so that it would be necessary to close them with branches or creepers up to twice Aoun’s height from the ground.
They quickly tore up some creepers and young bamboos which would make a solid barrier. The son of Urus prepared them, while Zouhr, who was more clever at constructing things, tied and interlaced them according to the custom of his ancestors.
Twilight had come when their work was finished, and no suspicious form had appeared about them. They then made a fire and roasted dried meat and roots. It was a pleasant repast, for effort had augmented their hunger, and they tasted the joy and pride of their manhood. No animal, not even among those that knew most about construction, would have been able to protect itself from the carnivores so quickly and so securely. When they had eaten, they remained for some time at the entrance of their refuge.
The moon, which had completed nearly half its course, was movin
g westward. A few stars shone in the sky, and Zouhr asked himself what sort of men lit them every evening. Their minuteness was surprising. They seemed like the points of feeble torches, while the sun and moon resembled fires lit with branches. But as they burnt for so long, it must be that their flames were continually fed: Zouhr tried to make out the forms of those who piled wood on them, and could not understand why they remained invisible . . . Sometimes he wondered about the immense heat of the sun, which was stronger when it shone high in the sky than when towards evening it grew much larger. These dreams soon mystified and wearied Zouhr. He abandoned them, and even completely forgot them. This evening he remembered the clouds which had become filled with flames after the sun’s departure. There were more fires in the west than if all the fires lighted by the Oulhamrs during a whole winter had been united in one evening . . . And all those fires produced less light and heat than the sun. Zouhr thought about it for a moment, then his reflections almost frightened him. None of the Men-without-Shoulders or the Oulhamrs had ever seemed to be moved by this thought.
He said mechanically, “What men light the sky when the sun is gone?”
Aoun, after dreaming of tigers, had fallen into that sort of torpor which did not prevent his senses taking note of all the perils of the night. Zouhr's question awoke him.
He did not quite understand it at first, and he was not surprised, for Zouhr had ideas which were strange to other men.
Lifting his head towards the zenith, he considered the stars.
“Is Zouhr speaking of the little fires in the sky?”
"No, Zouhr is speaking of the big red and yellow fires which have just gone out. Are they lit by hordes? ... If so they must be more numerous than the Oulhamrs, the Kzamms and the Red Dwarfs."
