The Cave that Swims on the Water

by Paul Anderson

  The Winged Death had found one—but which? A-ta’s heart swelled till it seemed as though it would burst, then the blood swept away from it, leaving her cold. Which would return, which would step from the forest? It seemed long hours ere a step sounded, a rustling in the brush as a man passed through, drawing nearer and nearer the little glade—which?

  A long-drawn sigh from the eagerly watching warriors, a joyful cry from A-ta—and Menzonomen, blood trickling from a wound on his shoulder, staggered forth to kneel at the feet of T’san-va-men! The great chieftain rose, grim and stern.

  “Menzono-men,” he said, “you have returned; what of Ta-nu-ko? Is he in very truth wrapped in death? Has his soul gone into the Long Dark? Or does he lie wounded in the forest? Speak!”

  The young man strove to answer, but, exhausted from the hunt, pitched forward at the chieftain’s feet. T’san-va-men motioned to the warriors to lift him up, but at that moment Sar-nom’rai touched his leader on the shoulder, pointing upward. Far above the tree-tops showed a speck in the sky, growing swiftly larger and larger, till presently, clearly seen of all, a vulture, wide and black of wing, dropped from the blue, falling, falling, like a plummet, straight to the forest. Another followed—another—another—

  Next morning T’san-va-men called his warriors together, and when all were assembled he spoke to them, saying: “Men of the Ta-an, A-ta, escaped from the Little Hairy Men, has given counsel. At one spot only can we ford the Farther River, on the southern bank of which the Little Hairy Men make their homes. This ford they guard well, it being further guarded by the high bank of the stream. Therefore, says A-ta—and the counsel seems good—let us pass this river on which we have made our camp, betake ourselves through the forest to the Farther River, and there make for ourselves many of the Cave That Swims On the Water, such as that in which A-ta returned.

  “Thus shall we pass the river that guards the Little Hairy Men on the north, avoiding also the morass which—A-ta tells—guards their homes on the south and west. Thus may we cross, falling upon the Little Hairy Men from the east, the upstream side of their camp, the side unprotected save by themselves. Is the counsel good?”

  “It is good! It is good!” cried the warriors.

  “Let us go! Lead on, great chieftain!”

  “One other thing,” spoke T’san-va-men. “It is against the law of the Ta-an that a woman go with us to war, yet would I have A-ta, that she may show us the manner of making the Cave That Swims On the Water. What say you, tribesmen?”

  A silence followed, each man eyeing his neighbor doubtfully; the word of the chieftain was strong, yet strong also was the law and the respect due the law. At length spoke Sar-no-m’rai, he who spoke but seldom: “Men of the Ta-an,” he said, “who makes the law? Is it not ourselves? Can we not then unmake the law, even as an artizan can destroy the bow that he has made, or an artist the carving? If then it is our desire that A-ta go with us, shall she not do so? Who is there to gainsay us? It is our law!”

  A murmur sounded among the warriors, growing in strength and at last breaking into words:

  “It is our law! A-ta shall go! It is we who make the law; let the girl go with us to war!” And the acclamation swelled till the great chieftain held up his hand, saying: “It is enough; A-ta goes with us! Cross we now the river that lies before us and take we our way through the forest, to fall upon the Little Hairy Men!”

  And taking their weapons and falling into formation in their various companies, the warriors of the Ta-an marched some two thousand paces back up-stream to where the river, broad and shallow, offered easy passage, and, fording the stream, plunged into the depths of the thick forest, T’san-va-men, accompanied by L’vu, Sar-nom’rai, Kan-to, and Sen-va, leading, and with them

  A-ta, first of the women of the Ta-an to march with the men to war.

  CHAPTER VI

  THE SWAMP OF FEAR

  Fifteen days later the Great Chieftain sent for Menzono-men, and the latter accompanied Kan-to, the messenger, to their leader. During those fifteen days the Ta-an had pressed through the forest, crossing the broad “V” of land, five days’ journey in width, that here separated the river of the Ta-an from the Farther River, and had established their camp several thousand paces upstream from the homes of the Little Hairy Men and half a day’s travel inland.

  They had sent out scouts—sentries, rather— to guard against wandering individuals from Gur’s tribe who might chance to discover them, and under this protection the artists and craftsmen of the tribe, aided by the warriors, had set to work to fell trees and make canoes, instructed by A-ta, inventor of the Cave That Swims On The Water. It was, indeed, somewhat unusual for the artists and artisans of the Ta-an to accompany the fighting-men to war, but in such a case as this, when the call went out for the full man-power of the tribe, they did so, and in this instance it was well that they were there, for the warriors, trained to battle and in the hunt, could not handle tools so well as men trained from infancy in their use.

  At suggestion of L’vu the canoes were made of the largest logs, capable, when hollowed out, of holding twenty men, and Sar-no-m’rai also had come forward with advice. To this genius of the trail may be credited the invention of the paddle, fashioned from a tree limb, as a result of which each man of the tribe was furnished with this implement of progress, in more senses than one. By now three canoes had been completed, and the tribesmen were looking forward eagerly to the day, not far off, when they should make the projected descent upon the Little Hairy Men, the tribe that acknowledged Gur’s leadership.

  Menzono-men, summoned, followed Kan-to, wondering at the chieftain’s sending for him, and questioning Kan-to, who, however, knew naught of the purpose. Coming to where the leader sat, calm and dignified, on his skin-covered log, the young man bowed, tracing with his finger on the grass. T’san-va-men’s face relaxed and he smiled at the youth, then said:

  “Menzono-men, you being now a warrior, and A-ta being once more among us, doubtless you desire to wed her as soon as may be?”

  “In very truth, Great Chieftain!” replied Menzono-men.

  “Your endurance have you proven in the test laid upon you; likewise your courage in face of peril. But A-ta, foster-daughter to T’san-va-men, Lord of the Winged Death, is one to mate with the highest. Therefore still further proof must you give, of craft and skill and courage in face of an enemy, even greater proof than in the fight with the Chief Priest. Take, therefore, twenty men, fullarmed; take also a Cave That Swims On The Water; cross the Farther River, march secretly upon the Little Hairy Men, spying out their camp on all sides and bringing word to me of where and when and how we may best attack. It is said; go!” Menzono-men bowed respectfully and asked:

  “Great Chieftain, may I take with me Sar-nom’rai as one of the twenty?”

  The corners of T’san-va-men’s mouth twitched slightly at this crafty request, but he suppressed a smile and answered:

  “No; nor L’vu nor Kan-to nor Sen-va. Leader are you of the party, and upon yourself must you depend.”

  The young warrior bowed once more and withdrew, going among the party and choosing his men, instructing each to take weapons and food and join him. Soon they set out, plunging in single file into the trees, and all the rest of the day Menzono-men led his party through the forest, reaching the river about sunset and making camp—a cold camp, lest the fires be seen by any of the Little Hairy Men—a few yards from the shore, where he allowed his men to rest and eat while he waited for dark. Shortly before the woods were utterly dark he sent his followers to bring the canoe and paddles, he himself remaining on guard. Behind him the woods were hushed save for the cries and chirping of nesting birds, and before him the broad river flowed smooth and black in the dusk, its surface broken at times as a fish leaped with silvery flash.

  Beyond the stream the forest stretched black and impenetrable to the eye as Menzono-men peered across, seeking any slightest movement which might betray the presence of an enemy on the farther shore. But no
thing appeared, and the solitude was unbroken till his men returned bearing the great canoe, when be bade them set it down by the water’s edge that he might speak a few words. They did so, gathering in a compact group about him, and he addressed them: “Men of the Ta-an, great honor has our chieftain done us, in thus sending us to spy out the land of the Little Hairy Men, for on us may hinge the outcome of the war; whether failure or success meets the arms of the People of the Mountain Caves, whether we return victorious or leave our bones to whiten by the Farther River. Be ye then swift and silent, following one who, younger in warfare than yourselves, has yet been named by the Great Chieftain for this work. Cross we now the river, treading softly down the farther bank till we reach the homes of the Little Hairy Men, seeking to leave no trail, seeking to learn of their camp, slaying but at need, and slaying, if slay we must, in silence. It is said!”

  Crossing the river, dawn found Menzonomen and his scouts strung out in a long line, bellydown on the grass, peering through screening brush at the open space which lay before the caves of those whom they sought.

  This open space, three hundred paces in width and a thousand in length, had on its northern side the broad surface of the Farther River, which here flowed almost due west; on the eastern end—where lay Menzono-men—the ground rose somewhat steeply to a terrace ten times the height of a tall man, and this terrace, curving round to the southern side of the flat below, showed the rude caves and shelters of the tribe of the Little Hairy Men over whom Gur held the chieftainship.

  Farther south the hill sloped gradually down into a broad morass, which, turning the western end of the hill, protected Gur’s camp on the downstream end.

  Thus the camp, guarded on the north by the river, on the west by the morass, and on the south by morass and hill, lay open to attack only from the east. Part of this the leader of the scouts knew from A-ta’s words, part he could see from where he lay, and part was yet hidden from him, to become known at a later time.

  As Menzono-men lay watching, there appeared at the mouths of the various caves numerous women, who stirred and made up the fires, then set about preparing the morning meal, and Menzono-men was astonished to see no warriors come forth; the food cooked, it was eaten by the women, companied only by certain youths and old men, and even while Menzono-men wondered over this there rose in the forest behind him a sound as of men approaching.

  He whispered quickly to the man nearest, and as the word was passed, the warriors of the Ta-an, grasping their weapons, faced about and waited what might come.

  Nearer and nearer came the rustling, and presently, with a shout, there burst forth a great crowd of the Little Hairy Men, who, returning from a hunt, had chanced on the trail of the scouts of the Ta-an and had followed swiftly to attack. Taken by surprise, Menzono-men and his followers fought desperately, but, out-numbered, were swept back by the very weight of the swarming savages and were rushed down the slope which lay at their backs. Cornered, it seemed as though annihilation waited them, and they fought like men resolved to sell their lives as dearly as might be, but Menzono-men, struck by a sudden thought, shouted above the noise of battle: “To the caves, men of the Ta-an! To the caves!” and led the way. No room was there to draw bow or use lance; swarming, surging, the men of Gur pressed close; knee to knee and breast to breast the tribesmen fought, using dagger or swinging the deadly ax.

  Onward through the circling masses the Taan cut their way, moving forward step by step, feeling in their faces the hot breath of the savages, against their bodies the rough and sweaty skin of the Little Hairy Men; treading on still bodies or on men who groaned and writhed, panting, with contorted faces and snarling lips, shoulder to shoulder, cutting, striking, stabbing, they held their way till at length the caves were reached and a last desperate push cleared the path—into the largest cave—half held the opening while the others swung their bows—a storm of arrows swept the Little Hairy Men back—great stones were piled in the opening—and for the time the warriors of the Ta-an were safe.

  Safe! As a wolf is safe in a trap! The heart of the leader sank as he realized, given space for thought, that there was no escape. But one way out, and that through the swarming foes! For a time he could hold them at bay, but in the end hunger must have its way with him and his men— the Little Hairy People need but sit and wait!

  No aid could he hope for from T’san-va-men; the Great Chieftain would not move till his scouts returned—or till it was too late! And how long could he hold out? Two or three days at most; but sixteen remained of his twenty men—three had fallen in the fight, and one, snatched from the ranks, had been torn in pieces before his comrades’ eyes. Yet, tortured, he had died as became a warrior; no sound had issued from his lips while the savages wrenched his limbs apart. And another thing, worse than hunger, worst than wounds—thirst! No water had the men of the Ta-an, and all but two bore wounds; and all began to feel the thirst that comes from battle, of effort, and of loss of blood.

  Quickly Menzono-men took count of these things, quickly he formed his decision, and called his men to him.

  “Men of the Ta-an,” he said, “not long can we hold out here; the Little Hairy Men have hunger and thirst to aid. Word must be carried to the Great Chieftain. Through the morass to the west can one slip out, swimming the river, and mine is it to take this task, since it offers the greatest peril. Ku-ten, yours it is to command in my absence; this night I go, seeking to pass the guards. If I return not, the leadership is yours.”

  “Nay, Slayer of Wolves,” spoke Ku-ten, “rather it be mine to go; yours is it to lead. Further, A-ta awaits you, and none waits me; let me then go, for it is in my mind that he who goes is like to take the last journey—that into the Long Dark!”

  Others spoke, each seeking the more perilous task, till at length Menzono-men lost patience and exclaimed, his eyes flashing: “Am I not leader? Yours is it to obey! Tonight I go!” and opposition ceased.

  Three times that day the Little Hairy Men, forming in a compact though irregular body, swept up the slope and tried to storm the defenses, and each time, met by a deadly arrow-sleet, they were driven back, broken, fleeing before that storm of wood and stone. At last came night, drawing its kindly mantle over the death and torment that changed that pleasant place to a hell of agony and hate, and with the sinking of the sun Menzono-men prepared.

  Drawing a little apart, he prayed to the Great Father for aid, then, rising, cast aside all weapons save only his dagger and flint, long and keen. In a sack hung from his quiver he carried a little stock of grease to keep his bow-string from wetting, and with this he rubbed himself from crown to toe, afterward rubbing the earth, that his white skin might not betray him. He pressed the hands of his comrades, one by one, and then, it being fully dark, the watch-fires not yet lit, slid like a snake over the rocks which formed a breastwork at the entrance, and, turning, crawled, belly to the earth, up the slope of the hill which lay behind the cave. It was his plan to cross the hill and skirt

  along its base to the western end, there plunging into the swamp, for he knew that the Little Hairy Men would have a cordon of guards drawn about the cave, nor, indeed, had he reached the crest of the hill when, looking up, he saw, outlined against the sky, a savage form, not twenty paces before him the brush here growing thin and low.

  Menzono-men lay silently as a sentinel passed along the crest, pacing slowly back and forth, meeting at each end of his travel another who also paced his round. Menzono-men’s first thought was to creep near and, leaping on the man, slay him, but an instant’s reflection told him that this would not do, and he crept toward the right, to the meeting-place of the two.

  Silent, scarce breathing, he hugged the ground till they met, exchanged a few words, and parted, when Menzono-men, waiting till they were some paces off, wriggled swiftly past and down the southern slope of the hill. Reaching the bottom, he lay still and rested a few moments, then rose to a crouching posture and turned west. From bush to bush he flitted, keeping ever hidden; at times, w
here no cover offered, crawling once more, till at length he reached the swamp. Here he halted for a time, considering. He dared not strike in close to the base of the hill, lest he be seen, nor, on the other hand, could he travel far to the west for fear that, mired, he should be lost, even as he had once seen the mighty bulk of a mammoth sink, wallowing and struggling beneath the mud and slime.

  And now the great morass grew lighter, and he could see faint details as the moon peered over the tree-tops, pouring a cold light down upon the swamp—the home of reptiles, of miasma, of lurking death.

  Menzono-men cursed to himself, drew a long breath, and crept into the morass. Deeper and deeper he went, the water rising to his waist as his feet sank into the ooze from which bubbles gurgled upward as from the lungs of a drowning man. The reeds blocked his way, and the sharpedged swordgrass stabbed and cut at his naked body; swarming millions of mosquitoes, disturbed by his passage, rose in clouds about his head, singing their high-pitched song, biting, stinging, till the blood streamed down his face and chest and back, and, frantic from the torment, he plunged beneath the water. But the relief was momentary; when he emerged they settled once more about him, and through all that dreadful night his myriad torturers followed close. The moon now gleamed on the swamp, lighting it up with steady glow, as on and on he pressed.

  And now he began to grow weak from loss of blood; it seemed to him that mocking faces rose before him, among them the face of Ta-nu-ko, twisted, agonized, as the arrow pierced his vitals; the face of Gur, exulting; unknown, inhuman faces, half man, half beast; and Menzono-men, cursing, struck at them with his dagger, when they fled away, and only the never-ending swamp lay before him, glittering under the now waning moon.