There was a moment of awe and horror and then the spirit of the brave
Shell Men asserted itself. There was grasping of weapons and an
outpouring in pursuit of the devourer. Easy to follow was the trail, for
a monster beast carrying a man cannot drop lightly in his leaps. There
was a brief mile or two traversed, though hours were consumed in the
search, and then, as morn was breaking, the seekers came upon what was
left of the singer. It was not much and it lay across the forest pathway,
for the cave tiger did not deign to hide his prey. There came a half
moaning growl from the forest. That growl meant lurking death. Then the
seekers fled. There was consultation and a resolve to ask for help. So
the runner, the man stricken down by a casual stroke in the tiger's rush,
but bravest among his tribe, had come to the Fire Valley.
To the panting stranger Ab had not much to say. He saw to it that the man
was refreshed and cared for and that the deep scars along his side were
dressed after the cave man's fashion. But through the night which
followed the great cave leader pondered deeply. Why should men thus live
and dread the cave tiger? Surely men were wiser than any beast! This one
monster must, anyhow, be slain!
But little it mattered to all surrounding nature that the strong man in
the Fire Valley had resolved upon the death of the cave tiger.
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