rom gave him an indifferent glance, and turned
away, half smiling. The Chief struck the rock with his club, and said
coldly:

"Mawg is young, and his words are foolish. Grom is a true man. He
shall do as he will."

The youth's heavy features worked angrily for a moment as he sought
words for a further attack. Then his face smoothed into a grin as he
remembered that from so perilous a venture it was most unlikely his
rival would ever return. He gave a crafty side-glance at the girl, and
sat down again, while she turned her back upon him. At a sign from the
Chief the council broke up, and all slipped off, chattering, into
their caves.

* * * * *

As the first pink light crept up the sky, Grom set forth on his
mysterious venture. It was just such a venture as his sanguine and
inquiring spirit, avid of the unknown, had always dreamed of. But
never before had he had such an object before him as seemed to justify
the long risk. There was all a boy's eagerness in his deep eyes, under
their shaggy brows, as he slipped noiselessly out of the bottle-neck,
picked his way lightly over the well-gnawed bones of the slain
invaders, turned his back on the sunrise, and took his course up the
edge of the stream. The weapons he carried were his war-club, two
light, flint-headed hunting-spears and a flint knife hung from his
wolf-skin girdle.

All that day, till mid-afternoon, he journeyed swiftly, straight
ahead, taking no precaution save to keep always a vigilant watch and
to avoid dark coverts whence tiger or leopard might spring upon him.
He was in a region which he had often hunted over, and where he felt
at home. He traveled very swiftly, at a long, noiseless lope; and when
he wished to rest he climbed into a tree for security.

Several times during the day he had had a sensation of being followed;
and, turning quickly, he had run back, in the hope of detecting his
pursuer. But when he found no one, he concluded that it was merely one
of the ghosts the tribe so feared, but whom he himself rather held in
contempt as futile.

Long before noon he had forsaken the brook, because its course had
ceased to lead him westward. In the afternoon he reached a river which
marked the limit of his former explorations. It was a wide, swift
water, but too shallow and turbulent for swimming, and he forded it
with some difficulty. Once across, he went with more caution,
oppressed with a sense of stran