Tales of Space and Time
The old woman had more words than any in the tribe. And her talk was a
terrible thing to hear. Sometimes she screamed and moaned incoherently,
and sometimes the shape of her guttural cries was the mere phantom of
thoughts. But she conveyed to Eudena, nevertheless, much of the things
that were yet to come, of the Lion and of the torment he would do her.
"And Ugh-lomi! Ha, ha! Ugh-lomi is slain?"
And suddenly Eudena's eyes opened and she sat up again, and her look met
the old woman's fair and level. "No," she said slowly, like one trying
to remember, "I did not see my Ugh-lomi slain. I did not see my Ugh-lomi
slain."
"Tell her," cried the old woman. "Tell her--he that killed him. Tell her
how Ugh-lomi was slain."
She looked, and all the women and children there looked, from man to
man.
None answered her. They stood shame-faced.
"Tell her," said the old woman. The men looked at one another.
Eudena's face suddenly lit.
"Tell her," she said. "Tell her, mighty men! Tell her the killing of
Ugh-lomi."
The old woman rose and struck her sharply across her mouth.
"We could not find Ugh-lomi," said Siss the Tracker, slowly. "Who hunts
two, kills none."
Then Eudena's heart leapt, but she kept her face hard. It was as well,
for the old woman looked at her sharply, with murder in her eyes.
Then the old woman turned her tongue upon the men because they had
feared to go on after Ugh-lomi. She dreaded no one now Uya was slain.
She scolded them as one scolds children. And they scowled at her, and
began to accuse one another. Until suddenly Siss the Tracker raised his
voice and bade her hold her peace.
And so when the sun was setting they took Eudena and went--though their
hearts sank within them--along the trail the old lion had made in the
reeds. All the men went together. At one place was a group of alders,
and here they hastily bound Eudena where the lion might find her when he
came abroad in the twilight, and having done so they hurried back until
they were near the squatting-place. Then they stopped. Siss stopped
first and looked back again at the alders. They could see her head even
from the squatting-place, a little black shock under the limb of the
larger tree. That was as well.
All the women and children stood watching upon the crest of the mound.
And the old woman stood and screamed for the lion to take her whom he
sought, and counselled him on the torments he might do her.
Eudena was very weary now, stunned by beatings and fatigue and sorrow,
and only the fear of the thing that was still to come upheld her. The
sun was broad and blood-red between the stems of the distant chestnuts,
and the west was all on fire; the evening breeze had died to a warm
tranquillity. The air was full of midge swarms, the fish in the river
hard by would leap at times, and now and again a cockchafer would drone
through the air. Out of the corner of her eye Eudena could see a part of
the squatting-knoll, and little figures standing and staring at her.
And--a very little sound but very clear--she could hear the beating of
the firestone. Dark and near to her and still was the reed-fringed
thicket of the lair.
Presently the firestone ceased. She looked for the sun and found he had
gone, and overhead and growing brighter was the waxing moon. She looked
towards the thicket of the lair, seeking shapes in the reeds, and then
suddenly she began to wriggle and wriggle, weeping and calling upon
Ugh-lomi.
But Ugh-lomi was far away. When they saw her head moving with her
struggles, they shouted together on the knoll, and she desisted and was
still. And then came the bats, and the star that was like Ugh-lomi crept
out of its blue hiding-place in the west. She called to it, but softly,
because she feared the lion. And all through the coming of the twilight
the thicket was still.
So the dark crept upon Eudena, and the moon grew bright, and the shadows
of things that had fled up the hillside and vanished with the evening
came back to them short and black. And the dark shapes in the thicket of
reeds and alders where the lion lay, gathered, and a faint stir began
there. But nothing came out therefrom all through the gathering of the
darkness.
She looked at the squatting-place and saw the fires glowing smoky-red,
and the men and women going to and fro. The other way, over the river, a
white mist was rising. Then far away came the whimpering of young foxes
and the yell of a hyaena.
There were long gaps of aching waiting. After a long time some animal
splashed in the water, and seemed to cross the river at the ford beyond
the lair, but what animal it was she could not see. From the distant
drinking-pools she could hear the sound of splashing, and the noise of
elephants--so still was the night.
The earth was now a colourless arrangement of white reflections and
impenetrable shadows, under the blue sky. The silvery moon was already
spotted with the filigree crests of the chestnut woods, and over the
shadowy eastward hills the stars were multiplying. The knoll fires were
bright red now, and black figures stood waiting against them. They were
waiting for a scream.... Surely it would be soon.
The night suddenly seemed full of movement. She held her breath. Things
were passing--one, two, three--subtly sneaking shadows.... Jackals.
Then a long waiting again.
Then, asserting itself as real at once over all the sounds her mind had
imagined, came a stir in the thicket, then a vigorous movement. There
was a snap. The reeds crashed heavily, once, twice, thrice, and then
everything was still save a measured swishing. She heard a low tremulous
growl, and then everything was still again. The stillness
lengthened--would it never end? She held her breath; she bit her lips to
stop screaming. Then something scuttled through the undergrowth. Her
scream was involuntary. She did not hear the answering yell from the
mound.
Immediately the thicket woke up to vigorous movement again. She saw the
grass stems waving in the light of the setting moon, the alders swaying.
She struggled violently--her last struggle. But nothing came towards
her. A dozen monsters seemed rushing about in that little place for a
couple of minutes, and then again came silence. The moon sank behind the
distant chestnuts and the night was dark.
Then an odd sound, a sobbing panting, that grew faster and fainter. Yet
another silence, and then dim sounds and the grunting of some animal.
Everything was still again. Far away eastwards an elephant trumpeted,
and from the woods came a snarling and yelping that died away.
In the long interval the moon shone out again, between the stems of the
trees on the ridge, sending two great bars of light and a bar of
darkness across the reedy waste. Then came a steady rustling, a splash,
and the reeds swayed wider and wider apart. And at last they broke open,
cleft from root to crest.... The end had come.
She looked to see the thing that had come out of the reeds. For a moment
it seemed certainly the great head and jaw she expected, and then it
dwindled and changed. It was a dark low thing, that remained silent, but
it was not the lion. It became still--everything became still. She
peered. It was like some gigantic frog, two limbs and a slanting body.
Its head moved about searching the shadows....
A rustle, and it moved clumsily, with a sort of hopping. And as it moved
it gave a low groan.
The blood rushing through her veins was suddenly joy. "_Ugh-lomi!_" she
whispered.
The thing stopped. "_Eudena_," he answered softly with pain in his
voice, and peering into the alders.
He moved again, and came out of the shadow beyond the reeds into the
moonlight. All his body was covered with dark smears. She saw he was
dragging his legs, and that he gripped his axe, the first axe, in one
hand. In another moment he had struggled into the position of all fours,
and had staggered over to her. "The lion," he said in a strange mingling
of exultation and anguish. "Wau!--I have slain a lion. With my own hand.
Even as I slew the great bear." He moved to emphasise his words, and
suddenly broke off with a faint cry. For a space he did not move.
"Let me free," whispered Eudena....
He answered her no words but pulled himself up from his crawling
attitude by means of the alder stem, and hacked at her thongs with the
sharp edge of his axe. She heard him sob at each blow. He cut away the
thongs about her chest and arms, and then his hand dropped. His chest
struck against her shoulder and he slipped down beside her and lay
still.
But the rest of her release was easy. Very hastily she freed herself.
She made one step from the tree, and her head was spinning. Her last
conscious movement was towards him. She reeled, and dropped. Her hand
fell upon his thigh. It was soft and wet, and gave way under her
pressure; he cried out at her touch, and writhed and lay still again.
Presently a dark dog-like shape came very softly through the reeds. Then
stopped dead and stood sniffing, hesitated, and at last turned and slunk
back into the shadows.
Long was the time they remained there motionless, with the light of the
setting moon shining on their limbs. Very slowly, as slowly as the
setting of the moon, did the shadow of the reeds towards the mound flow
over them. Presently their legs were hidden, and Ugh-lomi was but a bust
of silver. The shadow crept to his neck, crept over his face, and so at
last the darkness of the night swallowed them up.
The shadow became full of instinctive stirrings. There was a patter of
feet, and a faint snarling--the sound of a blow.
* * * * *
There was little sleep that night for the women and children at the
squatting-place until they heard Eudena scream. But the men were weary
and sat dozing. When Eudena screamed they felt assured of their safety,
and hurried to get the nearest places to the fires. The old woman
laughed at the scream, and laughed again because Si, the little friend
of Eudena, whimpered. Directly the dawn came they were all alert and
looking towards the alders. They could see that Eudena had been taken.
They could not help feeling glad to think that Uya was appeased. But
across the minds of the men the thought of Ugh-lomi fell like a shadow.
They could understand revenge, for the world was old in revenge, but
they did not think of rescue. Suddenly a hyaena fled out of the thicket,
and came galloping across the reed space. His muzzle and paws were
dark-stained. At that sight all the men shouted and clutched at
throwing-stones and ran towards him, for no animal is so pitiful a
coward as the hyaena by day. All men hated the hyaena because he preyed on
children, and would come and bite when one was sleeping on the edge of
the squatting-place. And Cat's-skin, throwing fair and straight, hit the
brute shrewdly on the flank, whereat the whole tribe yelled with
delight.
At the noise they made there came a flapping of wings from the lair of
the lion, and three white-headed vultures rose slowly and circled and
came to rest amidst the branches of an alder, overlooking the lair. "Our
lord is abroad," said the old woman, pointing. "The vultures have their
share of Eudena." For a space they remained there, and then first one
and then another dropped back into the thicket.
Then over the eastern woods, and touching the whole world to life and
colour, poured, with the exaltation of a trumpet blast, the light of the
rising sun. At the sight of him the children shouted together, and
clapped their hands and began to race off towards the water. Only little
Si lagged behind and looked wonderingly at the alders where she had seen
the head of Eudena overnight.
But Uya, the old lion, was not abroad, but at home, and he lay very