Allan and the Ice Gods (10 page)

“Now you have something to shake for,” said Pag, as he waddled to one

side lest another stone should follow.

None came, but out of the cave with a roar rushed a huge, hairy,

black-browed fellow waving a great wooden club—Henga himself. He was

a mighty, thick limbed man of about forty years of age, with a chest

like a bull’s, a big head from which long black hair fell upon his

shoulders, and a wide, thick-lipped mouth whence projected yellow

tusk-like teeth. From his shoulders, in token of his rank, hung the

hide of a cave tiger and round his neck was a collar made from its

claws and teeth.

“Who sends that dog to waken me from my rest?” he shouted in his

bellowing voice, and pointed with the club to Wini-wini, twisting on

the ground.

“I do,” answered Wi, “I and all the people. I, Wi, whose child you

murdered, come to challenge you, the chief, to fight me for the rule

of the tribe, as you must do according to the law, in the presence of

the tribe.”

Henga ceased from his shouting and glared at him.

“Is it so?” he asked in a quiet voice that had in it a hiss of hate.

“Know that I hoped that you would come on this errand and that is why

I killed your brat to give you courage, as I will kill the other that

remains to you,” and he glanced at the boy Foh who stood at a

distance. “You have troubled me for long, Wi, with your talk and

threats against me, of which I am hungry to make an end. Now, tell me,

when does it please the people to see me break your bones?”

“When the sun is within an hour of its setting, Henga, for I have a

fancy to sleep in the cave to-night as chief of the people,” answered

Wi quietly.

Henga glowered at him, gnawing at his lip, then said:

“So be it, dog. I shall be ready at the meeting place an hour before

the sun sets. For the rest, it is Aaka who will sleep in the cave

to-night, not you who I think will sleep in the bellies of the wolves.

Now begone, for a salmon has been sent to me, the first of the year,

and I who love salmon would cook and eat it.”

Then Aaka spoke, saying:

“Eat well, devil-man who murders children, for I, the mother, tell you

that it shall be your last meal.”

Laughing hoarsely, Henga went back into the cave, and Wi and all the

others slipped away.

“Who gave Henga the salmon?” asked Moananga idly, as one who would say

something.

“I did,” answered Pag, who was walking beside him but out of earshot

of Wi. “I caught it last night in a net and sent it to him, or rather

caused it to be laid on a stone by the mouth of the cave.”

“What for?” asked Moananga.

“Because Henga is greedy over salmon, especially the first of the

year. He will eat the whole fish and be heavy when it comes to

fighting.”

“That is clever; I should never have thought of that,” said Moananga.

“But how did you know that Wi was going to challenge Henga?”

“I did not know, nor did Wi. Yet I guessed it because Aaka sent him to

consult the gods. When a woman sends a man to seek a sign from the

gods, that sign will always be the one she wishes. So at least she

will tell him, and he will believe.”

“That is cleverer still,” said Moananga, staring at the dwarf with his

round eyes. “But why does Aaka wish Wi to fight Henga?”

“For two reasons. First, because she would revenge the killing of her

child, and, second, because she thinks that Wi is the better man, and

that presently she will be the wife of the chief of the tribe. Still,

she is not sure about this, because she has made a plan, should Wi be

defeated, that I must kill her and Foh at once, which I shall do

before I kill myself. Or perhaps I shall not kill myself, at any rate,

until I have tried to kill Henga.”

“Would you then be chief of the tribe, Wolf-man?” asked Moananga,

astonished.

“Perhaps, for a little while; for do not those who have been spat upon

and reviled always wish to rule the spitters and the revilers? Yet I

will tell who are Wi’s brother and love him that, if he dies, I, who

love him better and love no one else, save perhaps Foh, because he is

his son, shall not live long after him. No, then I should pass on the

chieftainship to you, Moananga, and be seen no more, though perhaps in

the after years you might hear me at night howling round the huts in

winter—with the wolves, Moananga, to which fools say I belong.”

Moananga stared again at this sinister dwarf whose talk frightened

him. Then, that he might talk of something else, asked him:

“Which of these two do you think will conquer, Pag?”

Pag stopped and pointed to the sea. At some distance from the shore a

mighty struggle was in progress between a thresher shark and a whale.

The terrible shark had driven the whale into shallow water, where it

floundered, unable to escape by sounding. Now the sea wolf, as it is

called, was leaping high into the air, and each time as it fell it

smote the whale upon the head with its awful sword-like tail, blow

upon blow that echoed far and wide. The whale rolled in agony, beating

the water to a foam with its giant flukes, but for all its size and

bulk could do nothing. Presently, it began to gasp and opened its

great mouth, whereon the thrasher, darting between its jaws, seized

its tongue and tore it out. Then the whale rolled over and began to

bleed to death.

“Look,” said Pag. “There is Henga the huge and mighty and there is Wi

the nimble, and Wi wins the day and will feed his fill upon whale’s

flesh, he and his friends. That is my answer, and the omen is very

good. Now I go to make Wi ready for this battle.”

When Pag reached the hut, he sent Aaka and Foh out of it, leaving

himself alone with Wi. Then, causing Wi to strip off his cloak, he

made him lie down and rubbed him all over with seal oil. Also, with a

sharp flint and a shell ground to a fine edge, slowly and painfully he

cut is hair short, so short that it could give no hold to Henga’s

hand, and, this done, greased what remained of it with the seal oil.

Next he bade Wi sleep awhile and left the hut, taking with him Wi’s

stone ax, also his spear, that with which he had killed the wolf, and

his flint knife that was hafted with two flat pieces of ivory rubbed

down from a walrus tusk and lashed onto the end of the flint.

Outside the hut, he met Aaka, who was wandering to and fro in an ill-humour. She made as though she would pass him, setting her face toward

the hut.

“Nay,” said Pag, “you do not enter.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because Wi rests and must not be disturbed.”

“So a misshapen monster, a wolf-man hated of all, who lives on bounty,

may enter my husband’s hut, when I, the wife, may not,” she said

furiously.

“Yes, for presently he goes upon a man’s business, namely, to kill his

enemy or be killed of him, and it is best that no woman should come

near to him till the thing is ended.”

“You say that because you hate women, who will not look on you, Pag.”

“I say it because women take away the strength of men and suck out

their courage and disturb them with weak words.”

She leapt to one side as though to rush past him, but Pag leapt also,

lifting the spear in his hand, whereon she stopped, for she feared the

dwarf.

“Listen,” he said. “You do ill to reproach me, Aaka, who am your best

friend. Still, I do not blame you overmuch for I know the reason of

your hate. You are jealous of me because Wi loves me more than he does

you, as does Foh, if in another fashion.”

“Loves you, you abortion, you hideous one!” she gasped.

“Yes, Aaka, who, it seems, do not know that there are different sorts

of love, that of the man for the woman which comes and goes, and that

of man for man which changes not. I say that you are jealous. Only

this day I told Wi that, if he had not taken me with him hunting but

had left me to watch Fo-a, she would not have been stolen and killed

by yonder cave dweller. It was a lie. I could have refused to go

hunting with Wi and he would have let me be, who knows that always I

have a reason for what I do. I went with him because of words which

you had spoken which you will remember well. I told you that Fo-a was

in danger from Henga the cave-dweller and that I had best watch her,

and you said that no girl child of yours should be watched by a wolf’s

cub and that you would take care of her yourself, which you did not

do. Therefore, because you goaded me, I went hunting and Fo-a was

taken and killed.”

Now Aaka hung her head, answering nothing, for she knew that his words

were true.

“Let that be,” went on Pag. “The dead are dead, and well dead,

perchance. Now, although I speak wisely to you, you would thwart me

again and go in to awaken Wi, even when I tell you that to do so may

turn the fight against him and bring about your death, and Foh’s as

well.”

“Does Wi sleep?” asked Aaka, weakening a little.

“I think he sleeps because I bade him, and in such matters he obeys

me. Also, last night he slept little. But the road is open and I have

said my say. Go and look for yourself. Go wake him up and ask if he is

asleep and wear him out with your woman’s talk, and tell him what

dreams have come to you about Fo-a and the gods, and thus make him

ready to fight the devil giant, Henga.”

“I go not,” she said, stamping her foot, “lest, if Wi fall, your

poisoned tongue should put it about that I was the cause of his death.

But know, misshapen, outcast wolf-man, that, should he conquer and

live, he must choose between you and me, for if he takes you to dwell

with him in the cave, then I stay here in the hut.”

Pag laughed deep down in his throat after his fashion and answered:

“That would be peace indeed, were it not, as I remember, that, if

Henga dies, he leaves behind him sundry fair women who also live in

the cave and doubtless will be hard to dislodge. Still, in this

matter, as in all others, do what you will. Only I tell you, Aaka,

that you do ill to revile me, whom you may need presently to help you

out of the world.”

Then, ceasing from his mockery and the rolling of his great head from

side to side, as was his habit when he mocked, he looked her in the

face with his one bright eye with which folk said he could see in the

dark like a wildcat, and said quietly:

“Why do you reproach me because I am hideous? Did I make my own shape

or was it the gift of a woman? Did I throw away my right eye or did a

woman dash it out against a stone? Afterward, did I leave the camp to

starve in the winter, or did women drive me out because I told them

the truth? Why are you angry with me because I love Wi who saved me

from the cruelty of women, and your son Foh whom Wi caused to be? Why

will you not understand that, although I be misshapen, yet I have more

wisdom than all the rest of you and a larger heart, and that the

wisdom and the heart are the servants of Wi and those with whom he has

to do? Why should you be jealous of me?”

“Would you know, Pag? Because you speak truth. Because you are more to

Wi than I am—yes, and to Foh also. When one comes whom Wi loves

better than he does you, then we may be friends again, but not

before.”

“That may happen,” said Pag reflectively. “Now trouble me no more, who

go to make ready Wi’s weapons for this fight and who have no time to

waste. Go now to the hut; as I have said, the way is open, and tell

your own tale to Wi.”

Aaka hesitated, then she said:

“Nay, I come to help you with the weapons, for my fingers are defter

than yours. Let there be peace between us for an hour, or gibe on if

you will, and I will not answer.”

Again Pag laughed his great laugh, saying:

“Women are strange, so strange that even I cannot weigh or measure

them. Come on! Come on! The edges of the spear and ax need rubbing,

and the lashings are worn.”

For a while did Pag and Aaka, with the lad Foh to help them, fetching

and carrying or holding hide strips, labour at the simple weapons of

Wi, pointing the spear and grinding the edge of the ax. When this ax

was as sharp as they could make it, Pag weighed the thing in his hand

and cast it down with a curse.

“It is too light,” he said. “What chance has this toy against the club

of Henga?”

Then he rose and ran to his hovel at the back of the hut whence he

returned bearing in his hand a glittering lump fashioned to the shape

of an ax.

“See here,” he said. “This is not much larger, yet it has thrice the

weight. I found it on the mountainside, one of many shattered

fragments, and last winter, working by the light of seal oil, I

fashioned it.”

Aaka took it in her hand, which it bore to the ground, so heavy was

it. Then she felt its edge, which was sharper than that of new-flaked

flint, and asked what it was.

“I don’t know,” answered Pag. “Outside it looks like stone that has

been in hot fire, but see, within it shines. Also, it is so hard that

I could only work it with another piece of the same stone, hammering