It was the first tragedy almost
repeated.
The little group of Fire Valley folk entered the village and were
received with shouts from the men, while from the throats of the women
still rose the death wail. There were more people about the huts than Ab
had ever seen there and he recognized at once among the group many of the
cave men from the East, strong people of his own kind. As the wounded
runner had gone to the Fire Valley, so another had been sent to the East,
to call upon another group for aid, and the Eastern cave people, under
the leadership of a huge, swarthy man called Boarface, had come to learn
what the strait was and to decide upon what degree of help they could
afford to give. Between these Eastern and the Western cave men there was
a certain coldness. There was no open enmity, though at some time in the
past there had been family battles and memories of feuds were still
existent. But Ab and Boarface met genially and there was not a trace of
difference now. Boarface joined readily in the council which was held and
decided that he would aid in the desperate hunt, and certainly his aid
was not to be despised when his followers were looked upon. They were a
stalwart lot.
The way was taken by the gathered fighting men toward where, across the
forest path, lay part of a woman.
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