from others of the
kind. In her own way she had developed as fully as he. As he stood
there, wondering at what he saw, the girl approached, slowly and
irresolutely; then, raising her hand, she softly pressed the tip of her
finger into his shoulder.

In the dim and misty ages of the past, when wandering bands of ape-like
human beings had not developed their tribal customs to the level of
priestly ceremonies,--when the medicine-man had not arisen,--a marriage
between a man and young woman was generally consummated by the man
beating the girl into insensibility, and dragging her by the hair to
his cave. Added to its simplicity, the custom had the merit of
improving the race, as unhealthy and ill-favored girls were not
pursued, and similar men were clubbed out of the pursuit by stronger.
But the process was necessarily painful to the loved one, and her
female children very naturally inherited a repugnance to being wooed.

When a civilized young lady, clothed and well conducted, anticipates
being kissed or embraced by her lover, she places in the way such
difficulties as are in her power; she gets behind tables and chairs,
runs from him, compels him to pursue, and expects him to. In her
maidenly heart she may want to be kissed, but she cannot help
resisting. She obeys the same instinct that impelled this wild girl to
spring from the outstretched arms of the boy and go screaming out of
the cave and down the beach in simulated terror--an instinct inherited
from the prehistoric mother, who fled for dear life and a whole skin
from a man behind armed with a club and bent upon marriage.

Shouting hoarsely, the boy followed, in what, if he had been called
upon to classify it, might have seemed to him a fury of rage, but it
was not. He would not have harmed the girl, for he lacked the tribal
education that induces cruelty to the weaker sex. But he did not catch
her; he stubbed his toe and fell, arising with a bruised kneecap which
prevented further pursuit. Slowly, painfully, he limped back, tears
welling in his eyes and increasing to a copious flood as he sat down
with his back to the girl and nursed his aching knee. It was not the
pain that brought the tears; he was hardened to physical suffering. But
his feelings had been hurt beyond any disappointment of the hunt or
terror of the storm, and for the first time in his life since his
babyhood he wept--like the intellectual child that he was.

A soft, caressing touch on his head