She was telling of the situation. There was
prompt reply; the voice seemed suddenly higher in the air and then came,
swinging easily from branch to branch along the treetops, the father of
Ab, a person who felt a natural and aggressive interest in what was going
on.
To describe the cave man it is, it may be, best of all to say that he was
the woman over again, only stronger, longer limbed and deeper chested,
firmer of jaw and more grim of countenance. He was dressed almost as she
was. From his broad shoulder hung a cloak of the skin of some wild beast
but the cord which tied it was a stout one, and in the belt thus formed
was stuck a weapon of such quality as men have rarely carried since. It
was a stone ax; an ax heavier than any battle-ax of mediaeval times, its
haft a scant three feet in length, inclosing the ax through a split in
the tough wood, all being held in place by a taut and hardened mass of
knotted sinews. It was a fearful weapon, but one only to be wielded by
such a man as this, one with arms almost as mighty as those of the
gorilla.
The man sat himself upon the limb beside his wife and child. The two
talked together in their clucking language for a moment or two, but few
words were wasted. Words had not their present abundance in those days;
action was everything.
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