Ab sprang to his feet and drew
his arrow to the head. The deer gathered for a second in affright,
crowding each other before the wild bursting away together, and then the
bow-string twanged, and the arrow sang hungrily, and there was the swift
thud of hundreds of light feet, and the little glade was almost silent. It
was not quite silent, for, floundering in its death struggles, was a
single deer, through which had passed an arrow so fiercely driven that its
flint head projected from the side opposite that which it had entered.
[Illustration: AB SPRANG TO HIS FEET, AND DREW HIS ARROW TO THE HEAD]
Half wild with triumph was the youth who bore home the arrow-stricken
quarry, and not much more elated was he than the old man, who heard the
story of the hunt, and who recognized, at once far more clearly than the
younger one, the quality of the new weapon which had been discovered; the
thing destined to become the greatest implement both of chase and warfare
for thousands of years to come, and which was to be gradually improved,
even by these two, until it became more to them than they could yet
understand.
But the lips of each of the two makers of the bow were sealed for the
time. Ab and Old Mok cherished together their mighty secret.
CHAPTER XIV.
A LESSON IN SWIMMING.
Pages:
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125