Littlenose Collection The Magician

by John Grant

  It was very similar to the one in which Littlenose lived, with one marvellous difference. His cousins had a cave of their own, a smaller one that opened off the family cave. Here he was tucked up for the night with the three other boys, but none of them wanted to sleep. They whispered together in the dark exchanging boy-news. Littlenose told them of his home by the big river, of his visits to the market and his hunting lessons. He told them of bears and hyenas and sabre-toothed tigers. His cousins listened with amazement to the long stories of all his adventures. Then he asked, “What do you do around here?”

  After a long pause, one cousin said, “Throw stones.”

  After another, even longer, pause the second cousin said, “Gather berries.”

  After a pause that was so long that Littlenose thought he had fallen asleep the third cousin said, “Throw more stones.”

  Littlenose’s heart sank. This holiday was going to be every bit as dull as he imagined!

  Next morning, after breakfast, Littlenose said, “What shall we do?” Without replying, his cousins stuck a row of sticks in the ground at the end of a stretch of green turf . . . and started to throw stones at them. They were very good at it, which Littlenose wasn’t. They knocked the sticks flying every time, but Littlenose found that he could not even throw far enough, let alone straight and hard enough. Apart from the occasional squabble, they threw stones all that day. And the next. And the next. Littlenose was frantic with boredom, and his throwing arm ached. Then, he remembered the other thing his cousins did. “What about going berry picking?” he asked at lunch. His aunt looked up. “Yes,” she said, “I could do with some blaeberries, but remember, don’t go past the cairns.” The cousins nodded. Littlenose didn’t know what a cairn was, but he nodded too.

  The berry picking was, if anything, more boring than the stone throwing. There were very few berries, and soon Littlenose’s back ached from stooping. He straightened up, and saw a promising blaeberry patch some way off. He was going towards it when he heard a shout from the other boys: “Not past the cairn!” He waved and walked on, and they shouted again. Then he saw a huge heap of large stones, as tall as he was. Other heaps were in a long line across the hillside. These must be the cairns.

  He shrugged and turned back. “Why?” he asked. His cousins looked at each other and mumbled something that sounded like “bigfoot”.

  “Who’s Bigfoot?” asked Littlenose. But his cousins wouldn’t explain and just hurried back to the cave.

  After supper, Dad took Littlenose to one side and said, “I hope you haven’t been upsetting your cousins. The folk in these parts are simple and superstitious. They say if you go past the line of stone cairns the local bogey man will grab you.” Dad grinned. “He’s tall, hairy, and you can smell him a long way off. And he leaves enormous footprints.” Littlenose grinned back at Dad. It sounded very fanciful, but still the line of cairns was intriguing. He made up his mind to explore beyond them, if only to show his simple cousins that there was nothing to be afraid of.

  Next morning, before anyone was awake, Littlenose crept from the cave and made his way to the blaeberry place. The early-morning mist made it difficult to see, and he groped his way carefully forward. Suddenly he stopped. A tall shape loomed in front of him and his hair stood on end with fright. But the figure didn’t move. Then the mist thinned in the breeze and he saw that it was one of the stone cairns. Sighing with relief, Littlenose pressed on.

  The mist rolled away completely with the coming day, and he found himself crossing a steep, bare mountainside covered with stunted trees and scrubby bushes. Patches of last winter’s snow lay here and there, and Littlenose was scanning the ground ahead when he noticed something odd about one of the patches. There were huge footprints on it. But they were old. The edges were blurred where the sun had melted the snow, and the more he looked at them the less sure he became that they were footprints. All the talk of Bigfoot was making his eyes play tricks on him. He went on his way.

  Then he stopped at another snow patch. Here there were more marks like the last. But these were fresh, and most definitely footprints. Something very big had passed in front of him only a short time before!

  For the second time, Littlenose’s hair stood on end. His mind went numb and he couldn’t think. He jumped at a sudden sound. Something was coming out of the bushes . . . In the split second before he took to his heels, Littlenose had a glimpse of something tall, shaggy and man-shaped looming out of the dark undergrowth. Littlenose flew downhill over snow, rock and gravel. Behind him the thing shambled swiftly in pursuit, plodding rapidly on enormous feet and short, powerful legs. And it was gaining on him.

  The giant creature took one stride for every three of Littlenose’s. He knew that he could never outrun it, but if he could hide, Dad or Uncle Juniper would come looking for him. There was a dead tree straight ahead. It had been struck by lightning and stood white and bare against the dark green scrub. Littlenose ran the last few steps, and dragged himself up to safety.

  From his branch Littlenose looked down on the creature. It was twice as tall as a man, covered with shaggy fur, and had small eyes and a wide mouth with jagged teeth. And there was a terrible smell – like dead animals and damp caves all jumbled together. There was no mistake – this was Bigfoot!

  When Bigfoot reached the tree he grabbed the trunk and shook it hard, roaring with all his might. Littlenose shook like a leaf in a gale, while Bigfoot tried to climb after him. But the lower branches weren’t strong enough and broke under his weight.

  As he clung to the tree, Littlenose began to think. It might be a long time before anybody came to his rescue, and it seemed unlikely that the dead tree would stand much of Bigfoot’s shaking. He had to do something before the whole lot crashed to the ground. He rummaged furiously in his furs and fished out his fire-making flints. Animals were afraid of fire and Bigfoot was at least part animal. Quickly he struck a spark on to the dead leaves clinging to a withered branch. The leaves caught fire and the branch became a torch. Breaking it off, Littlenose leaned forward and carefully dropped the flaming branch. But Bigfoot sidestepped, and as the burning torch fell to the ground picked it up and threw it into the bushes.

  “He’s not all that animal,” thought Littlenose in dismay. There seemed no point in lighting another branch, and he looked around in despair for a new idea. Then he realised that Bigfoot’s attention had wandered. He was sniffing loudly, and swinging his head from side to side.

  Littlenose saw that a grey pall of smoke was blowing across the hillside. The torch had set fire to the undergrowth. The smoke became thicker, and swirled around the foot of the tree until Bigfoot was only a dim, coughing shape. This was Littlenose’s chance. He slithered to the ground, and under cover of the smoke ran as fast as he could. Behind him he heard thudding footsteps as Bigfoot took up the chase again. But now Littlenose could see the line of the cairns.

  He passed the first cairn and glanced over his shoulder. Bigfoot was almost on him. Then he heard a voice: “Get down, Littlenose!” And at the same something whizzed past his ear. Littlenose threw himself flat and heard Bigfoot roaring angrily behind him. Raising his head he saw a shower of well-aimed stones flying through the air while Bigfoot tried to fend them off with wildly waving arms.

  At last the monstrous creature gave up and stumbled back up the mountainside and out of sight, leaving behind a trail of huge footprints and a dreadful smell. The cousins threw their remaining stones for luck before escorting Littlenose back to the cave.

  The grown-ups weren’t told of his adventure.

  As he was leaving with Dad, Mum and Two-Eyes at the end of the holiday, Uncle Juniper said to Littlenose, “Well, and how would you like to live here with us in peace and quiet?”

  “Actually,” replied Littlenose, “I think the excitement would be too much for me. Goodbye, and thank you for having me.”

  Contents

  1 Littlenose the Joker

  2 Squeaky

  3 Littlenose’s Cousin
s

  4 The Fox Fur Robe

  5 Two-Eyes’ Friends

  Littlenose the Joker

  Littlenose was a boy in a Neanderthal tribe, and Neanderthal folk were quite a merry lot. Despite the cold of the Ice Age, the frequent lack of food and the danger from wild animals, they enjoyed a joke as much as anyone. They could be heard laughing and singing as they worked at chipping flints to make tools, or cut and sewed animal skins to make clothes. And one of the most fun-loving Neanderthal people was Littlenose.

  While Littlenose and his family and friends were ready for a laugh at any time, there was one day in the year which they kept especially for playing tricks on each other. They called it Crocus Day. As soon as the first crocus appeared in bloom in the spring, then for that day anyone could play tricks on anyone else, the person playing the trick shouting, “CROCUS!” at the person tricked. As you might expect, it was one of Littlenose’s favourite times of the year.

  One spring day, Littlenose sat under his special tree where he did his more important thinking. Two-Eyes, his pet mammoth was with him, half asleep in the first warm weather since the previous autumn.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Two-Eyes,” said Littlenose. “Any day now the first crocus will be out, and I haven’t thought of a single trick to play.”

  “If you ask me,” thought Two-Eyes in his own mammoth way, “the whole idea is a piece of nonsense!” But, as usual, nobody asked him, and Littlenose went on: “I could tie a rope across the cave entrance to trip up Dad . . . but I did that last year! Or I could tie a long string to the tiger-skin rug, and pull it so that Mum would think it was alive . . . but I did that the year before!” He thought a while longer, then, as it was almost lunchtime, he went home.

  After lunch, he still hadn’t thought of a good Crocus joke, so he decided to look over his collection, in case an idea might just come to him.

  Littlenose was a very enthusiastic collector. His collection contained dried leaves, stones with interesting marks on them, birds’ feathers, snail shells, and a piece of broken antler. By evening he still hadn’t had any ideas, but the collection in his corner of the cave was looking much tidier. He had almost forgotten Crocus Day, and he said to Two-Eyes, “Let’s go collecting tomorrow. I’ve a feeling I’ll be extra lucky, and find something special to collect.”

  Next morning after breakfast, he slung his hunting bag across his shoulder and set off with Two-Eyes. They went along by the river, up the hill and into the forest, and in no time at all Littlenose had collected quite a few interesting items: a bird’s egg, a large dead beetle, and a piece of bark with markings that looked vaguely like a picture of Dad. So much for the forest, now for the open grassland. He’d found some of the best items in his collection there.

  But not this time, it seemed. “Keep looking, Two-Eyes,” said Littlenose. Two-Eyes gave a sort of mammoth “Hmph!” and turned his head this way and that as he wandered in a casual sort of fashion through the long grass and around the clumps of gorse which grew here and there.

  Suddenly, he stopped. “What is it, Two-Eyes?” said Littlenose. “Have you found something?”

  Two-Eyes made not a sound, but stood stock still, his big ears spread to catch the faintest sound, and his trunk held out sniffing delicately at the breeze. Some way in front was a particularly large clump of gorse, and as Littlenose followed Two-Eyes’ gaze, he thought he could just make out something. Something big was lurking in the bushes. And things which lurked in bushes were invariably dangerous. He couldn’t actually see anything among the foliage, but he could see what had attracted Two-Eyes’ attention. A large object was sticking out from among the leaves. It was a horn. Not an ordinary horn, but one which was quite extraordinary. It was huge. It was half as big as Littlenose.

  “That can only be one thing, Two-Eyes,” he said in a whisper. “A giant wild bull!”

  But Two-Eyes was a mammoth, and mammoths had much keener eyesight than Neanderthal boys. He also remembered what Littlenose had forgotten. The great wild bulls lived deep in the forest, and it would be most unlikely to find one out on the open grassland. Also, giant bulls didn’t usually stay as still as this, particularly if people were near. He decided to have a closer look. “No, don’t, Two-Eyes,” said Littlenose, as the little mammoth walked boldly up to the bush, reached up with his trunk, and touched the horn. The horn dropped to the ground with a soft thump. One thing was certain. There was no wild giant bull on the other end!

  Littlenose ran to join Two-Eyes. He examined the horn. It was old and discoloured. And the sharp tip had been broken off. But it seemed worth collecting. It might be useful for keeping things in. Littlenose lifted up the horn and looked inside. It was full of dirt and dust, and he tried to blow it out, but his hair and eyes got full of dust as it blew back in his face. So, he turned it round, put the broken tip to his mouth, and blew again. There was another great cloud of dust . . . then a loud bellowing sound!

  Littlenose dropped the horn as if it were red-hot and jumped back, falling over a tuft of grass and sitting down with a thump. Two-Eyes was nowhere to be seen. Littlenose cautiously reached out to the horn and picked it up. Two-Eyes equally cautiously peered out from a distant clump of bushes. He walked slowly towards Littlenose and looked suspiciously at the horn. Timidly, he touched it with the tip of his trunk. Littlenose took a deep breath, and blew hard into the horn. The noise echoed across the landscape and set a flock of crows cawing in alarm at the edge of the forest. This time Two-Eyes ran only a short distance before he stopped and came back sheepishly towards Littlenose. And Littlenose now knew why Two-Eyes had been frightened. The sound from the horn was exactly like the bellow of an enraged woolly rhinoceros. He gave it a more gentle blow, and it sounded like a slightly annoyed woolly rhinoceros.

  This was a treasure indeed! Littlenose said as much to Two-Eyes. Two-Eyes grunted in a resigned sort of fashion. He knew what was coming next. He was right. Littlenose heaved the horn across Two-Eyes’ back where it balanced precariously, and they set off back home.

  They were not far from the caves when they saw two figures ahead of them. It was Nosey and one of the other men returning empty-handed from a day’s hunting. Littlenose liked Nosey, and he was about to shout and run after the men when he had a brilliant idea. Did the horn really make a sound like an enraged woolly rhinoceros? Maybe he and Two-Eyes had imagined it. They found a patch of long grass and hid. Then Littlenose lifted the horn . . . and BLEW!

  It was wonderful! The two men dropped their spears and ran. “It’s a woolly rhinoceros!” they heard Nosey yell. “ENRAGED! Run for your life.”

  Littlenose lay in the grass, and laughed and laughed until he was sore. Two-Eyes gave a sort of non-committal mammoth grunt. Actually, mammoths didn’t have much of a sense of humour, and he thought the whole thing a bit ridiculous. When Littlenose had wiped the tears from his eyes, and peered over the top of the grass, Nosey and his friend had gone. “This is going to be fun,” he said to Two-Eyes.

  “This is going to lead to trouble,” thought Two-Eyes. “As usual!”

  The horn was much too big to join the rest of Littlenose’s collection in his corner of the cave, so he hid it in a thicket near the edge of the woods. He would do something wonderful with it, but until he had decided what, it would be safe.

  That day, Uncle Redhead was passing through the district, and dropped in for a visit. At supper, he said, “Spring’s coming on fast. Any time now it’ll be Crocus Day.”

  Crocus Day! Littlenose had completely forgotten. He had been so excited at finding the wonderful horn. And he still hadn’t the faintest idea what tricks he would play. Uncle Redhead was in a reminiscent mood, and started to tell tales of Crocus Day tricks he had played when he was Littlenose’s age. He had been the best joker in the district, throwing chestnuts into the fire so that they popped and sparked, startling everyone, or spreading bear grease on the stone floor at the entrance to the cave to make people slip and fall.

  “Hmph!�
� said Mum. “It wasn’t all that funny! I was the one who slipped!” She was, of course, Uncle Redhead’s sister. But Littlenose thought it sounded hilarious. The snag was that it wasn’t likely to come as a surprise to anyone after Uncle Redhead had been talking about it. He was really no nearer to thinking of a trick to play.

  That is, until breakfast time the following morning. Neanderthal caves had no proper furniture, but handy rocks served just as well. Instead of a table, Littlenose ate his meals off a large flat rock, and smaller, round boulders, acted as seats. Littlenose was hungry, as usual, and he fidgeted as he waited impatiently for Mum to serve the food. As he fidgeted he was sure he felt his seat move. He wriggled, and sure enough the boulder rocked very slightly on the sandy floor of the cave. He was just going to tell Mum, when he had an idea. This might be the beginnings of a good joke. A Crocus Day trick that would be remembered for years . . . like Uncle Redhead’s slippery floor. It would need a lot of preparation, and he couldn’t start until he was sure of the right day.

  Late that afternoon, Littlenose was playing in the woods with Two-Eyes when he saw something which made his heart leap. Among the long grass growing in a small clearing, he saw the dark spikes of crocus leaves. And among the crocus leaves were stalks with buds. And some of the buds were showing tips of colour. By tomorrow they would be crocus flowers in full bloom. Tomorrow would be Crocus Day.

  Littlenose waited impatiently for the day to pass. Supper came and went. Then bedtime. Littlenose lay under the fur bed covers in his own special corner of the cave and worried. He was worried that the weather might suddenly turn cold or dull and the crocuses wouldn’t open. And he was worried in case he fell asleep. The whole thing depended on staying awake until Mum and Dad were asleep. He had work to do. Hard work that had to be completed before getting up time.