The knife pressed firmly against the
rawhide was drawn back and forth noiselessly but with effectiveness.
Suddenly the last tissue parted and the enormously weighted spear fell
like a lightning-stroke. The broad flint head struck the tiger fairly
between the shoulders, and, impelled by such a weight, passed through his
huge body as if it had met no obstacle. Upon the strong shaft of ash the
monster was impaled. There echoed and reechoed through the forest a roar
so fearful that even the hunters whom Ab had sent far away from the scene
of the tragedy clambered to the trees for refuge. The struggles of the
pierced brute were tremendous beyond description, but no strength could
avail it now; it had received its death wound and soon the great tiger
lay still, as harmless as the squirrel, frightened and hidden in his
nest. In wild triumph Ab slid to the ground and then the long cry to
summon his party went echoing through the wood. When the others found him
he had withdrawn the spear and was already engaged, flint knife in hand,
in stripping from the huge body the glorious robe it wore.
There was excitement and rejoicing. The terror had been slain! The Shell
People were frantic in their exultation. Meanwhile Ab had called upon his
own people to assist him and the wonderful skin of the tiger was soon
stretched out upon the ground, a glorious possession for a cave man.
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