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logs　together　with　tough　vines　or　stringy　roots。　　We

were　content　to　hold　the　logs　together　with　our　hands

and　feet。



It　was　not　until　we　got　over　our　first　enthusiasm　for

navigation　and　had　begun　to　return　to　our　tree…shelter

to　sleep　at　night；　that　we　found　the　Swift　One。　　I　saw

her　first；　gathering　young　acorns　from　the　branches　of

a　large　oak　near　our　tree。　　She　was　very　timid。　　At

first；　she　kept　very　still；　but　when　she　saw　that　she

was　discovered　she　dropped　to　the　ground　and　dashed

wildly　away。　　We　caught　occasional　glimpses　of　her　from

day　to　day；　and　came　to　look　for　her　when　we　travelled

back　and　forth　between　our　tree　and　the　mouth　of　the

slough。



And　then；　one　day；　she　did　not　run　away。　　She　waited

our　coming；　and　made　soft　peace…sounds。　　We　could　not

get　very　near；　however。　When　we　seemed　to　approach　too

close；　she　darted　suddenly　away　and　from　a　safe

distance　uttered　the　soft　sounds　again。　　This　continued

for　some　days。　　It　took　a　long　while　to　get　acquainted

with　her；　but　finally　it　was　accomplished　and　she

joined　us　sometimes　in　our　play。



I　liked　her　from　the　first。　　She　was　of　most　pleasing

appearance。　She　was　very　mild。　　Her　eyes　were　the

mildest　I　had　ever　seen。　　In　this　she　was　quite　unlike

the　rest　of　the　girls　and　women　of　the　Folk；　who　were

born　viragos。　　She　never　made　harsh；　angry　cries；　and

it　seemed　to　be　her　nature　to　flee　away　from　trouble

rather　than　to　remain　and　fight。



The　mildness　I　have　mentioned　seemed　to　emanate　from

her　whole　being。　　Her　bodily　as　well　as　facial

appearance　was　the　cause　of　this。　　Her　eyes　were　larger

than　most　of　her　kind；　and　they　were　not　so　deep…set；

while　the　lashes　were　longer　and　more　regular。　Nor　was

her　nose　so　thick　and　squat。　　It　had　quite　a　bridge；

and　the　nostrils　opened　downward。　　Her　incisors　were

not　large；　nor　was　her　upper　lip　long　and　down…hanging；

nor　her　lower　lip　protruding。　　She　was　not　very　hairy；

except　on　the　outsides　of　arms　and　legs　and　across　the

shoulders；　and　while　she　was　thin…hipped；　her　calves

were　not　twisted　and　gnarly。



I　have　often　wondered；　looking　back　upon　her　from　the

twentieth　century　through　the　medium　of　my　dreams；　and

it　has　always　occurred　to　me　that　possibly　she　may　have

been　related　to　the　Fire　People。　　Her　father；　or

mother；　might　well　have　come　from　that　higher　stock。

While　such　things　were　not　common；　still　they　did

occur；　and　I　have　seen　the　proof　of　them　with　my　own

eyes；　even　to　the　extent　of　members　of　the　horde

turning　renegade　and　going　to　live　with　the　Tree

People。



All　of　which　is　neither　here　nor　there。　　The　Swift　One

was　radically　different　from　any　of　the　females　of　the

horde；　and　I　had　a　liking　for　her　from　the　first。　　Her

mildness　and　gentleness　attracted　me。　　She　was　never

rough；　and　she　never　fought。　　She　always　ran　away；　and

right　here　may　be　noted　the　significance　of　the　naming

of　her。　　She　was　a　better　climber　than　Lop…Ear　or　I。

When　we　played　tag　we　could　never　catch　her　except　by

accident；　while　she　could　catch　us　at　will。　　She　was

remarkably　swift　in　all　her　movements；　and　she　had　a

genius　for　judging　distances　that　was　equalled　only　by

her　daring。　　Excessively　timid　in　all　other　matters；

she　was　without　fear　when　it　came　to　climbing　or

running　through　the　trees；　and　Lop…Ear　and　I　were

awkward　and　lumbering　and　cowardly　in　comparison。



She　was　an　orphan。　　We　never　saw　her　with　any　one；　and

there　was　no　telling　how　long　she　had　lived　alone　in

the　world。　　She　must　have　learned　early　in　her　helpless

childhood　that　safety　lay　only　in　flight。　　She　was　very

wise　and　very　discreet。　　It　became　a　sort　of　game　with

Lop…Ear　and　me　to　try　to　find　where　she　lived。　　It　was

certain　that　she　had　a　tree…shelter　somewhere；　and　not

very　far　away；　but　trail　her　as　we　would；　we　could

never　find　it。　　She　was　willing　enough　to　join　with　us

at　play　in　the　day…time；　but　the　secret　of　her

abiding…place　she　guarded　jealously。







CHAPTER　XI





It　must　be　remembered　that　the　description　I　have　just

given　of　the　Swift　One　is　not　the　description　that

would　have　been　given　by　Big…Tooth；　my　other　self　of　my

dreams；　my　prehistoric　ancestor。　It　is　by　the　medium　of

my　dreams　that　I；　the　modern　man；　look　through　the　eyes

of　Big…Tooth　and　see。



And　so　it　is　with　much　that　I　narrate　of　the　events　of

that　far…off　time。　　There　is　a　duality　about　my

impressions　that　is　too　confusing　to　inflict　upon　my

readers。　　I　shall　merely　pause　here　in　my　narrative　to

indicate　this　duality；　this　perplexing　mixing　of

personality。　　It　is　I；　the　modern；　who　look　back　across

the　centuries　and　weigh　and　analyze　the　emotions　and

motives　of　Big…Tooth；　my　other　self。　　He　did　not

bother　to　weigh　and　analyze。　　He　was　simplicity　itself。

He　just　lived　events；　without　ever　pondering　why　he

lived　them　in　his　particular　and　often　erratic　way。



As　I；　my　real　self；　grew　older；　I　entered　more　and　more

into　the　substance　of　my　dreams。　　One　may　dream；　and

even　in　the　midst　of　the　dream　be　aware　that　he　is

dreaming；　and　if　the　dream　be　bad；　comfort　himself　with

the　thought　that　it　is　only　a　dream。　　This　is　a　common

experience　with　all　of　us。　　And　so　it　was　that　I；　the

modern；　often　entered　into　my　dreaming；　and　in　the

consequent　strange　dual　personality　was　both　actor　and

spectator。　　And　right　often　have　I；　the　modern；　been

perturbed　and　vexed　by　the　foolishness；　illogic；

obtuseness；　and　general　all…round　stupendous　stupidity

of　myself；　the　primitive。



And　one　thing　more；　before　I　end　this　digression。　　Have

you　ever　dreamed　that　you　dreamed？　Dogs　dream；　horses

dream；　all　animals　dream。　　In　Big…Tooth's　day　the

half…men　dreamed；　and　when　the　dreams　were　bad　they

howled　in　their　sleep。　　Now　I；　the　modern；　have　lain

down　with　Big…Tooth　and　dreamed　his　dreams。



This　is　getting　almost　beyond　the　grip　of　the

intellect；　I　know；　but　I　do　know　that　I　have　done　this

thing。　　And　let　me　tell　you　that　the　flying　and

crawling　dreams　of　Big…Tooth　were　as　vivid　to　him　as

the　falling…through…space　dream　is　to　you。



For　Big…Tooth　also　had　an　other…self；　and　when　he　slept

that　other…self　dreamed　back　into　the　past；　back　to　the

winged　reptiles　and　the　clash　and　the　onset　of　dragons；

and　beyond　that　to　the　scurrying；　rodent…like　life　of

the　tiny　mammals；　and　far　remoter　still；　to　the

shore…slime　of　the　primeval　sea。　　I　cannot；　I　dare　not；

say　more。　　It　is　all　too　vague　and　complicated　and

awful。　　I　can　only　hint　of　those　vast　and　terrific

vistas　through　which　I　have　peered　hazily　at　the

progression　of　life；　not　upward　from　the　ape　to　man；

but　upward　from　the　worm。



And　now　to　return　to　my　tale。　　I；　Big…Tooth；　knew　not

the　Swift　One　as　a　creature　of　finer　facial　and　bodily

symmetry；　with　long…lashed　eyes　and　a　bridge　to　her

nose　and　down…opening　nostrils　that　made　toward　beauty。

I　knew　her　only　as　the　mild…eyed　young　female　who　made

soft　sounds　and　did　not　fight。　　I　liked　to　play　with

her；　I　knew　not　why；　to　seek　food　in　her　company；　and

to　go　bird…nesting　with　her。　　And　I　must　confess　she

taught　me　things　about　tree…climbing。　　She　was　very

wise；　very　strong；　and　no　clinging　skirts　impeded　her

movements。



It　was　about　this　time　that　a　slight　defection　arose　on

the　part　of　Lop…Ear。　　He　got　into　the　habit　of

wandering　off　in　the　direction　of　the　tree　where　my

mother　lived。　　He　had　taken　a　liking　to　my　vicious

sister；　and　the　Chatterer　had　come　to　tolerate　him。

Also；　there　were　several　other　young　people；　progeny　of

the　monogamic　couples　that　lived　in　the　neighborhood；

and　Lop…Ear　played　with　these　young　people。



I　could　never　get　the　Swift　One　to　join　with　them。

Whenever　I　visited　them　she　dropped　behind　and

disappeared。　　I　remember　once　making　a　strong　effort　to

persuade　her。　　But　she　cast　backward；　anxious　glances；

then　retreated；　calling　to　me　from　a　tree。　　So　it　was

that　I　did　not　make　a　practice　of　accompanying　Lop…Ear

when　he　went　to　visit　his　new　friends。　　The　Swift　One

and　I　were　good　comrades；　but；　try　as　I　would；　I　could

never　find　her　tree…shelter。　　Undoubtedly；　had　nothing

happened；　we　would　have　soon　mated；　for　our　liking　was

mutual；　but　the　something　did　happen。



One　morning；　the　Swift　One　not　having　put　in　an

appearance；　Lop…Ear　and　I　were　down　at　the　mouth　of

the　slough　playing　on　the　logs。　　We　had　scarcely　got

out　on　the　water；　when　we　were　startled　by　a　roar　of

rage。　　It　was　Red…Eye。　　He　was　crouching　on　the　edge　of

the　timber　jam　and　glowering　his　hatred　at　us。　　We　were

badly　frightened；　for　here　was　no　narrow…mouthed　cave

for　refuge。　　But　the　twenty　feet　of　water　that

intervened　gave　us　temporary　safety；　and　we　plucked　up

courage。



Red…Eye　stood　up　erect　and　began　beating　his　hairy

chest　with　his　fist。　　Our　two　logs　were　side　by　side；

and　we　sat　on　them　and　laughed　at　him。　　At　first　our

laughter　was　half…hearted；　tinged　with　fear；　but　as　we

became　convinced　of　his　impotence　we　waxed　uproarious。

He　raged　and　raged　at　us；　and　ground　his　teeth　in

helpless　fury。　　And　in　our　fancied　security　we　mocked

and　mocked　him。　　We　were　ever　short…sighted；　we　Folk。



Red…Eye　abruptly　ceased　his　breast…beating　and

tooth…grinding；　and　ran　across　the　timber…jam　to　the

shore。　　And　just　as　abruptly　our　merriment　gave　way　to

consternation。　　It　was　not　Red…Eye's　way　to　forego

revenge　so　easily。　　We　waited　in　fear　and　trembling　for

whatever　was　to　happen。　　It　never　struck　us　to　paddle

away。　　He　came　back　with　great　leaps　across　the　jam；

one　huge　hand　filled　with　round；　water…washed　pebbles。

I　am　glad　that　he　was　unable　to　find　larger　missiles；

say　stones　weighing　two　or　three　pounds；　for　we　were　no

more　than　a　score　of　feet　away；　and　he　surely　would

have　killed　us。



As　it　was；　we　were　in　no　small　danger。　　Zip！　A　tiny

pebble　whirred　past　with　the　force　almost　of　a　bullet。

Lop…Ear　and　I　b