by Jack London
CHAPTER X
After we had had out our laugh, Lop-Ear and I curved back in our flightand got breakfast in the blueberry swamp. It was the same swamp to whichI had made my first journeys in the world, years before, accompanied bymy mother. I had seen little of her in the intervening time. Usually,when she visited the horde at the caves, I was away in the forest. I hadonce or twice caught glimpses of the Chatterer in the open space, andhad had the pleasure of making faces at him and angering him from themouth of my cave. Beyond such amenities I had left my family severelyalone. I was not much interested in it, and anyway I was doing very wellby myself.
After eating our fill of berries, with two nestfuls of partly hatchedquail-eggs for dessert, Lop-Ear and I wandered circumspectly into thewoods toward the river. Here was where stood my old home-tree, out ofwhich I had been thrown by the Chatterer. It was still occupied. Therehad been increase in the family. Clinging tight to my mother was alittle baby. Also, there was a girl, partly grown, who cautiouslyregarded us from one of the lower branches. She was evidently my sister,or half-sister, rather.
My mother recognized me, but she warned me away when I started to climbinto the tree. Lop-Ear, who was more cautious by far than I, beat aretreat, nor could I persuade him to return. Later in the day, however,my sister came down to the ground, and there and in neighboring treeswe romped and played all afternoon. And then came trouble. She was mysister, but that did not prevent her from treating me abominably, forshe had inherited all the viciousness of the Chatterer. She turned uponme suddenly, in a petty rage, and scratched me, tore my hair, and sankher sharp little teeth deep into my forearm. I lost my temper. I didnot injure her, but it was undoubtedly the soundest spanking she hadreceived up to that time.
How she yelled and squalled. The Chatterer, who had been away all dayand who was only then returning, heard the noise and rushed for thespot. My mother also rushed, but he got there first. Lop-Ear and I didnot wait his coming. We were off and away, and the Chatterer gave us thechase of our lives through the trees.
After the chase was over, and Lop-Ear and I had had out our laugh,we discovered that twilight was falling. Here was night with all itsterrors upon us, and to return to the caves was out of the question.Red-Eye made that impossible. We took refuge in a tree that stood apartfrom other trees, and high up in a fork we passed the night. It wasa miserable night. For the first few hours it rained heavily, thenit turned cold and a chill wind blew upon us. Soaked through, withshivering bodies and chattering teeth, we huddled in each other's arms.We missed the snug, dry cave that so quickly warmed with the heat of ourbodies.
Morning found us wretched and resolved. We would not spend another suchnight. Remembering the tree-shelters of our elders, we set to work tomake one for ourselves. We built the framework of a rough nest, and onhigher forks overhead even got in several ridge-poles for the roof. Thenthe sun came out, and under its benign influence we forgot the hardshipsof the night and went off in search of breakfast. After that, to showthe inconsequentiality of life in those days, we fell to playing. Itmust have taken us all of a month, working intermittently, to make ourtree-house; and then, when it was completed, we never used it again.
But I run ahead of my story. When we fell to playing, after breakfast,on the second day away from the caves, Lop-Ear led me a chase throughthe trees and down to the river. We came out upon it where a largeslough entered from the blueberry swamp. The mouth of this slough waswide, while the slough itself was practically without a current. In thedead water, just inside its mouth, lay a tangled mass of tree trunks.Some of these, what of the wear and tear of freshets and of beingstranded long summers on sand-bars, were seasoned and dry and withoutbranches. They floated high in the water, and bobbed up and down orrolled over when we put our weight upon them.
Here and there between the trunks were water-cracks, and through them wecould see schools of small fish, like minnows, darting back and forth.Lop-Ear and I became fishermen at once. Lying flat on the logs, keepingperfectly quiet, waiting till the minnows came close, we would makeswift passes with our hands. Our prizes we ate on the spot, wrigglingand moist. We did not notice the lack of salt.
The mouth of the slough became our favorite playground. Here we spentmany hours each day, catching fish and playing on the logs, and here,one day, we learned our first lessons in navigation. The log on whichLop-Ear was lying got adrift. He was curled up on his side, asleep. Alight fan of air slowly drifted the log away from the shore, and whenI noticed his predicament the distance was already too great for him toleap.
At first the episode seemed merely funny to me. But when one of thevagrant impulses of fear, common in that age of perpetual insecurity,moved within me, I was struck with my own loneliness. I was madesuddenly aware of Lop-Ear's remoteness out there on that alien elementa few feet away. I called loudly to him a warning cry. He awokefrightened, and shifted his weight rashly on the log. It turned over,sousing him under. Three times again it soused him under as he tried toclimb out upon it. Then he succeeded, crouching upon it and chatteringwith fear.
I could do nothing. Nor could he. Swimming was something of which weknew nothing. We were already too far removed from the lowerlife-forms to have the instinct for swimming, and we had not yet becomesufficiently man-like to undertake it as the working out of a problem.I roamed disconsolately up and down the bank, keeping as close to himin his involuntary travels as I could, while he wailed and cried tillit was a wonder that he did not bring down upon us every hunting animalwithin a mile.
The hours passed. The sun climbed overhead and began its descent tothe west. The light wind died down and left Lop-Ear on his log floatingaround a hundred feet away. And then, somehow, I know not how, Lop-Earmade the great discovery. He began paddling with his hands. At firsthis progress was slow and erratic. Then he straightened out and beganlaboriously to paddle nearer and nearer. I could not understand. I satdown and watched and waited until he gained the shore.
But he had learned something, which was more than I had done. Later inthe afternoon, he deliberately launched out from shore on the log. Stilllater he persuaded me to join him, and I, too, learned the trick ofpaddling. For the next several days we could not tear ourselves awayfrom the slough. So absorbed were we in our new game that we almostneglected to eat. We even roosted in a nearby tree at night. And weforgot that Red-Eye existed.
We were always trying new logs, and we learned that the smaller the logthe faster we could make it go. Also, we learned that the smaller thelog the more liable it was to roll over and give us a ducking. Stillanother thing about small logs we learned. One day we paddled ourindividual logs alongside each other. And then, quite by accident, inthe course of play, we discovered that when each, with one hand andfoot, held on to the other's log, the logs were steadied and did notturn over. Lying side by side in this position, our outside hands andfeet were left free for paddling. Our final discovery was that thisarrangement enabled us to use still smaller logs and thereby gaingreater speed. And there our discoveries ended. We had invented the mostprimitive catamaran, and we did not have sense enough to know it. Itnever entered our heads to lash the logs together with tough vines orstringy roots. We were content to hold the logs together with our handsand feet.
It was not until we got over our first enthusiasm for navigation and hadbegun to return to our tree-shelter to sleep at night, that we found theSwift One. I saw her first, gathering young acorns from the branches ofa large oak near our tree. She was very timid. At first, she kept verystill; but when she saw that she was discovered she dropped to theground and dashed wildly away. We caught occasional glimpses of her fromday to day, and came to look for her when we travelled back and forthbetween our tree and the mouth of the slough.
And then, one day, she did not run away. She waited our coming, and madesoft peace-sounds. We could not get very near, however. When we seemedto approach too close, she darted suddenly away and from a safe distanceuttered the soft sounds again. This continued for some days. It took alon
g while to get acquainted with her, but finally it was accomplishedand she joined us sometimes in our play.
I liked her from the first. She was of most pleasing appearance. She wasvery mild. Her eyes were the mildest I had ever seen. In this she wasquite unlike the rest of the girls and women of the Folk, who were bornviragos. She never made harsh, angry cries, and it seemed to be hernature to flee away from trouble rather than to remain and fight.
The mildness I have mentioned seemed to emanate from her whole being.Her bodily as well as facial appearance was the cause of this. Her eyeswere larger than most of her kind, and they were not so deep-set, whilethe lashes were longer and more regular. Nor was her nose so thick andsquat. It had quite a bridge, and the nostrils opened downward. Herincisors were not large, nor was her upper lip long and down-hanging,nor her lower lip protruding. She was not very hairy, except on theoutsides of arms and legs and across the shoulders; and while she wasthin-hipped, her calves were not twisted and gnarly.
I have often wondered, looking back upon her from the twentieth centurythrough the medium of my dreams, and it has always occurred to me thatpossibly she may have been related to the Fire People. Her father, ormother, might well have come from that higher stock. While such thingswere not common, still they did occur, and I have seen the proof of themwith my own eyes, even to the extent of members of the horde turningrenegade and going to live with the Tree People.
All of which is neither here nor there. The Swift One was radicallydifferent from any of the females of the horde, and I had a liking forher from the first. Her mildness and gentleness attracted me. She wasnever rough, and she never fought. She always ran away, and right heremay be noted the significance of the naming of her. She was a betterclimber than Lop-Ear or I. When we played tag we could never catch herexcept by accident, while she could catch us at will. She was remarkablyswift in all her movements, and she had a genius for judging distancesthat was equalled only by her daring. Excessively timid in all othermatters, she was without fear when it came to climbing or runningthrough the trees, and Lop-Ear and I were awkward and lumbering andcowardly in comparison.
She was an orphan. We never saw her with any one, and there was notelling how long she had lived alone in the world. She must have learnedearly in her helpless childhood that safety lay only in flight. She wasvery wise and very discreet. It became a sort of game with Lop-Earand me to try to find where she lived. It was certain that she hada tree-shelter somewhere, and not very far away; but trail her as wewould, we could never find it. She was willing enough to join with usat play in the day-time, but the secret of her abiding-place she guardedjealously.
