by J. H. Rosny
Aoun’s brow contracted. He vaguely imagined beings hidden above him, and the idea was a disagreeable one.
“Night puts out the fires," he replied with hesitation . . . “Night makes our fire shine more brightly!”
This reply disconcerted the son of Earth, and he continued to think of it long after Aoun had forgotten the question, which did not interest him.
Meanwhile the breeze freshened and brought sounds from far off. Furtive animals moved over the moor and disappeared. Some of them stopped to look at the fire, the light of which shone ever more brightly. Five or six dholes prowled round stealthily, smelling the odour of roast meat, but they soon disappeared. Suddenly, some panolia deer came out of the jungle and ran wildly away.
Aoun sat up. He sniffed, listened and whispered, “It is time to go into the refuge.”
Then he added, “The tiger is near!"
They slipped between the interstices of the bamboos.
The brushwood had been pushed aside at a little distance from them. A striped animal appeared in the silver and ash-grey coloured light. It was as large as a lion in bulk, but it was not so high, and its body was longer and more supple. The Oulhamrs and the Men-without-Shoulders dreaded it more than any other living creature, for the lion had less cunning, fury and swiftness, the sabre-tooth was unknown on the other side of the mountains, and among the Oulhamrs two old warriors, Naoh and Coun of the Dry Bones, were the only men who had met the giant feline.
The tiger moved without haste, with sinuous undulations that had a terrifying effect. It halted at sight of the flames, lifting its thick-set head and displaying a pale chest, while its eyes shone like glow-worms. It was the largest tiger that Aoun and Zouhr had ever seen. Despite the anxiety which made the blood course faster through his veins, the son of Urus admired it, for he had a predilection for powerful animals, even when they were his enemies.
He said however, “The tiger of the Men-Devourers is stronger than this one.”
Zouhr added, “He is as a leopard in comparison with the lion of the rocks.”
Notwithstanding this they felt that, for a man, the tiger was as much to be feared as their brute companion of the cave.
The tiger halted a moment and then approached obliquely in a diffident manner. It feared the fire; it had fled before it when the prairie was struck by lightning, but this glow more resembled the light which appears at the end of night. It came so close that it began to feel the heat, and at the same time it saw the dancing flames and heard their roaring and crackling. Its mistrust grew; it walked round the fire at a safe distance and this movement brought it near the bamboos. It caught sight of the men at the same moment that their smell made it aware of their presence.
It snarled, and gave two hunting cries like those of the dholes.
Without thinking, Aoun replied by shouting his war-cry. The tiger gave a start of surprise and looked sharply at its adversaries. Their odour resembled that of its most timid victims, their size seemed hardly greater than that of wolves.
Now all those that could stand against it were of immense stature. These, however, were unknown to the tiger, and age having endowed it with experience of surprises, it practised prudence. The proximity of the fire added mystery to the strangeness of the men. The tiger approached the bamboos slowly, then it walked round them. Its long life in the jungle had perfected its instinct for judging distances, that instinct which invariably enabled it to make sine of its prey when it could be attained at one bound. It knew also the strength of the bamboos. It did not attempt to force the narrow interstices; it stopped in front of the interlaced branches and creepers. It tried them with its claws and attempted to tear out the thinnest ones, when Aoun’s spear all but came in contact with its nostrils.
It drew back growling and stood undecided. This attack
made the unknown creature more strange to it. Its anger rose, a furious growl rattled in its throat, and gathering itself up for a spring, it attempted an overwhelming attack. This time the spear caught an angle of its jaw, for the oscillation of the branches and the carnivore’s movement had not permitted Aoun to take good aim. The assailant realized the resistance offered by the obstacle and the man’s courage; it drew back again, crouched on the ground and waited.
It was not the hour for hunting. The tiger was thirsty. Had it not seen the fire it would have gone first to the river. After a time its anger cooled; it felt again that dryness of the glands which only fresh water could appease . . .
Then with a long snarl, it got up, walked twice round the refuge and went away. There was a gap in the jungle which led to the river bank. Aoun and Zouhr saw it disappear.
"It will come back,” said Zouhr, “perhaps with its mate.”
“Not a single creeper has been torn away,” replied the son of Urus.
They thought of their late peril for some time, but they felt no anxiety about the future. The refuge had protected them and would protect them again. It was unnecessary even to watch, and as soon as they lay down they were lost in slumber.
PART III
THE ATTACK OF THE TIGER
Aoun woke when a third of the night had passed. The moon had gone down behind the western jungle, and its light reddened the vapours which were condensing on the branches. The moor was covered with pale grey shadows; the fire shed only a faint fight near the seven bamboos.
At first the warrior only saw the motionless vegetation, but his sense of smell warned him of a living presence. Then a shadow emerged, became detached from a clump of palm trees and approached cautiously towards him. Aoun knew it was the tiger from the moment he opened his eyes, and he watched it come with anxiety and anger. The daring spirit which worked in him like a storm on the waters dilated his chest. Although he knew the tiger’s superiority over man, and despite the secret horror which possessed him, he desired to fight. Had not Naoh conquered the grey wolf and the tigress, had he not himself overcome the sabre-tooth, the victor of the rhinoceros? For a moment he felt giddy, but this soon passed, the prudence of his ancestors calmed his blood; he knew that neither Naoh nor Faouhm nor the Hairy Men would have attacked the tiger unless their own fives had been in danger . . .
Besides, one had awoken who would restrain him. The son of Earth became aware in his turn of the terrible presence. He looked at his companion, who had raised his club, and said, “The tiger has not found any prey.”
“If he comes near ns,” said the other in a quivering voice, “Aoun will fling his spear and harpoon.”
“It is dangerous to wound the tiger. Its fury is greater than that of the lion,” was the reply.
“And if it will not go away from our refuge?"
"Aoun and Zouhr have provisions for two days.”
“We have no water and the tigress may join him.”
Zouhr did not reply. He had already thought of that. He knew that the wild beasts would sometimes take turns in watching a difficult prey. After hesitating a moment he replied, “The tiger has been alone since last night. Perhaps the tigress is far from here."
Aoun could not see sufficiently clearly into the future to insist; his attention was concentrated on the tiger, which had come within five ells of the bamboos.
They could distinctly see the thick-set muzzle, fringed at the back with stiff hairs, the eyes shining more brightly than before. Aoun had a strange horror of their green light, and they made Zouhr tremble. At intervals growls could be heard on the moor. The tiger came closer; then it began to prowl up and down and round the shelter, with an awful and exasperating patience. It seemed as if it expected that the interstices would grow bigger or the interlaced creepers and bamboos become relaxed. Each time it came close to them the two men trembled as if the wild beast’s hope was about to be realized.
Finally it crouched in the dry grass. From there it observed them patiently, and from time to time opened its great jaws, so that the dying light of the fire shone upon its fangs.
“It will still be there in the morning,” said Aoun.<
br />
Zouhr did not reply. He was looking at two little branches of the turpentine tree which he had exposed to the fire, for he always liked to have some dry wood ready. He split the thinnest one down its whole length and gathered together some twigs.
"Zouhr is not going to make a fire!” exclaimed the son of Urus reprovingly.
"There is no wind; the ground of our refue is bare; the bamboos are young," said Zouhr striking the stone flint against the marcasite . . . “Zouhr has only need of a little fire!”
Aoun did not insist. He watched the sparks rise from the twigs, while his companion lighted the end of a turpentine stick. It soon threw out a bright light. Then, leaning towards one of the openings, the son of Earth flung the burning brand towards the tiger . . .
The flame described a parabola and fell among the dry grass. It was the most arid part of the moor, where the nocturnal vapours had not yet formed . . .
The tiger started up at sight of the glittering projectile, which disappeared among the tall grass stalks. Aoun laughed silently. Zouhr was carefully considering whether he should light another torch.
Only a twinkling red glow remained among the vegetation. The tiger lay down again.
After a moment’s hesitation Zouhr lit the second turpentine stick. The fire had just caught the point of it, when a livid jet appeared where the first had fallen, ran up the grass stalks, and made a line of light. The wild beast rose up with a roar, and was - about to spring when Zouhr flung the second burning brand.
It struck the brute on the chest. Maddened, it turned round and round and bounded from side to side in zig-zags. The fire, with a dry crackling sound, seemed to gallop its way through the tall grass; then it disseminated itself in sheafs and enveloped the wild beast . . . The carnivore gave a cry of fury, plunged through the flames and fled.
"It will not come back,” Zouhr asserted. "No beast returns to the place where it has been burnt."
His companion’s cunning delighted Aoun. His laugh was no longer silent but rang out over the moor, like a joyous war-cry.
"Zouhr is more cunning than Goun of the Dry Bones,” he said enthusiastically.
He laid his muscular hand on the shoulder of the son of Earth.
The tiger did not return. Aoun and Zouhr slept till daybreak. A mist covered the moor and the jungle; silence and stillness lasted til] the full dawn. Then the day animals began to stir. A loud clamour rose from the river and the trees of the forest. The son of Urus came out of the refuge and studied the landscape. No suspicious odour alarmed his nostrils and some axis passed by, which reassured him still more.
He went back to Zouhr and said, "We will continue our journey; but we will first go in a westerly direction so as not to meet the tiger.”
They started before day had fully dawned. The mist slowly rolled away and was lost in the pale sky, which rapidly turned blue. At first there were few animals to be seen; then their numbers increased and the warriors conjectured that they had left the domain of the tiger behind them. Aoun however sniffed the air anxiously. Feverish heat hung over the foliage; red-headed flies tormented the two men; the sun’s rays shot through the branches and seemed to bite into their flesh like white ants; monkeys made faces at them, and parrots shrieked in strident and furious tones.
"There will be thunder in the forest!” said the son of Earth.
Aoun stopped to consider the western sky. They were at the entrance of a clearing and could see a long stretch of firmament, of the colour of lapis lazuli, without a single cloud. Notwithstanding this the two men felt a vague uneasiness, which seemed to pervade the air like an unseen terror.
It lasted for a long time. Aoun and Zouhr turned aside towards the river, following the lines indicated by the various kinds of undergrowth. At mid-day the storm was still far off. They made no fire, but ate, without enjoyment, a slice of meat they had cooked on the previous day. Their rest was disturbed by the attacks of insects.
When they resumed their journey, the first mists were appearing in the west. A milky colour spread itself among the blue; the uneasy belling of the swamp deer was heard, and the lowing of buffaloes; cobras slipped by among the grasses. For a moment the warriors hesitated to start, but their halting-place was not a favourable one: immense old trees lifted crests that were dangerously high; the ground was spongy at their feet; they could see no shelter against the thunder-bolts that would ravage the forest. At intervals gusts of air passed over the crests of the trees with a sound like that of a river, or rose up in spirals, brushing aside the foliage. This was followed by deep, heavy silence. A wall of vapour rose towards the zenith, black smoke that became phosphorescent towards the edge. Then furious livid gleams of light shot through the world of trees. They had their origin very far from where Zouhr and Aoun stood, so they did not add their clamour to the tumult of the storm. When the wall shrouded the middle of the firmament and began to descend towards the east, a growing terror took possession of all living things; here and there only a fugitive animal could be seen seeking its lair, or a frightened insect trying to reach some crack in the bark of a tree. The life of the creatures was enveloped by another life, that life which, subtly diffused, creates and nourishes the forest life, but which if it is unchained destroys alike trees, grass and animals.
The wanderers had experienced these convulsions of nature. Aoun only thought of a refuge; Zouhr lifted his head from time to time possessed by the idea that monstrous wild beasts were raging in the clouds. Already their roars could be heard. Distance made them solemn, like the sound of lions’ voices lost among the hills. Then the thunder broke and the glare of the lightning became intolerable. A sound of running water was heard, which soon grew to the roar of rapids and of torrents. The jungle opened upon a lake which was preceded by marshes; no shelter was visible in the reeking ground; and the thunder rolled on at intervals. Under the arcades of a banyan tree where the two men stopped, a leopard crouched; sharp cries were heard from the monkeys in the branches above. Water flowed as if an ocean had broken through dykes in the sky; the smell of thunder and the scent of plants was borne on the squalls of wind ... In an hour the lake had risen; the marshy pools were full; one of them overflowed and began to invade the forest.
The wanderers were forced to retreat; but other waters came on with a roar which added to the noise of the storm. They were forced to flee as best they could towards the East. The raging waters harassed them. They had barely escaped from the floor on one side when it appeared unexpectedly on the other. Aoun galloped like a stallion, and Zouhr followed him, bent down and hardly lifting his feet, as was the custom of the Men-without-Shoulders. When they had put a space between themselves and the inundation they continued their way towards the east, in the hope of reaching the river.
They traversed moors, and threaded their way through bamboos, palms and creepers. A marsh which had overflowed obliged them to turn towards the North. The storm was abating, the gusts of wind howled less loudly, and they finally reached a clearing where a torrent formed by the rain was racing along . . .
There they stopped, trying to estimate the depth of the water.
The lightning struck a group of ebony trees; on the other bank the long body of a terrified animal rose in great bounds; Aoun and Zouhr recognized the tiger. It turned round and round for a time in terror, then it stopped and perceived the human beings . . .
Aoun’s instinct told him that it was the one which had prowled round the refuge. Zouhr was certain of it when he saw that its chest was singed, and knew it must have been done by the burning grass . . . More vaguely the tiger recognized the prey that had escaped him, made memorable by the fire, the barricade of creepers and the burning grass. He found them again at the moment when another fire struck the ebony trees. Their forms thus associated in its mind with terrible things, made the wild beast hesitate.
All three remained immovable for a time. There was too small a space between the men and the beast to make flight possible.
Aoun had already got r
eady his spear, and Zouhr, fearing that flight might be followed by pursuit, also prepared himself to fight.
It was he who first hurled his weapon. It whistled above the waters and hit the brute close to its right eye. With a terrible roar it made its spring, but blood impeded its sight: its bound had not that awful precision which condemned to death all within its reach. The long body fell into the torrent, turned round and round, and clung to the bank by its front paws. Aoun threw himself upon it, his spear struck its breast, missing the shoulder . . . Maddened with rage the brute hoisted itself on to the bank and charged the men. It was lame, and it moved slowly; Zouhr pierced its side with a second spear, while the son of Urus wounded it on the neck . . .
Then, holding their clubs in readiness, they waited. Aoun faced the attack and brought down his weapon on the tiger’s head, while the Wah attacked it from behind and aimed at the vertebrae . . . One of its claws tore the Oulhamr’s body, but by stepping aside he made it slip, and the club, crashing down on the tiger’s nostrils momentarily arrested its course . . . Before it could spring again, Aoun’s club came down for the third time with such force that the tiger remained motionless, as if it slept. Then, without pausing for a moment, the two companions belaboured its vertebrae and legs with blows. The enormous body sank down, with terrible convulsions, and the son of Urus having put out its left eye, the wild beast was at the men’s mercy.
A spear thrust let out its heart’s blood.
THE FOREST OF THE LEMURIAN MEN
The weather was mild on the following days. The warriors advanced confidently through lands where the river was as broad as a lake. The joy of the conqueror was upon them, which made the recollection of past perils almost agreeable to them, without diminishing their prudence. They found temporary homes in the jungle, on the river bank, among the rocks, in the hollows of trees thousands of years old, in thickets where the thorns were so strong that after having cut a passage for themselves with their axes, and stopped up the entrance, they could defy the carnivores.
