Then
something dangerous had happened to him, and this same Oak, his friend,
the man he had wished to kill, had come back and saved his life. The sense
which we call gratitude, and which is not unmingled with what we call
honor, came to this young cave man then. He thought of many things,
worried and wakeful as he was, and perhaps made more acute of perception
by the slight, exciting fever of his wound.
He thought of how the two, he and Oak, had planned and risked together, of
their boyish follies and failures and successes, and of how, in later
years, Oak had often helped him, of how he had saved Oak's life once in
the river swamp, where quicksands were, of how Oak had now offset even
that debt by carrying him away from certain ending amid wild beasts. No
one--and of the cave men he knew many--no one in all the careless, merry
party had missed him save Oak. He doubtless could not have told himself
why it was, but he was glad that he could repay it all and have the
balance still upon his side. He was glad that he had the secret of the bow
and arrow to reveal. That should be Oak's! So it came that, late that
night, when the fire in the cave had burned low and when one could not
wisely speak above a whisper, Ab told Oak the story of the new weapon, of
how it had been discovered, of how it was to be used and of all it was for
hunters and fighters.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163