Excerpt
CHAPTER I In Quest of Vengeance
It was late afternoon. Neela, the zebra, and his family of fifteen grazed quietly near the center of a level stretch of grassland. In the distance, and encircling the expanse of prairie, stood a solid wall of forest and close-knit jungle.
From the forest deeps came brutal killers, and Tharn, the Cro-Magnon, vowed that vengeance would be his....For the past two hours of this long hot afternoon Neela had shown signs of increasing nervousness. Feeding a short distance from the balance of his charges, he lifted his head from time to time to stare intently across the wind-stirred grasses to the east. Twice he had started slowly in that direction, only to stop short, stamp and snort uneasily, then wheel about and retrace his steps.
The remainder of the herd cropped calmly at the long grasses, apparently heedless of their leader's unrest, tails slapping flanks clear of biting flies.
Meanwhile, some two hundred yards to the eastward, three half-naked white hunters, belly-flat in the concealing growth, continued their cautious advance.
Wise in the ways of wary grass-eaters were these three members of a Cro-Magnard tribe, living in a day some twenty thousand years before the founding of Rome. With the wind against their faces, with their passage as soundless as only veteran hunters may make it, they knew the zebra had no cause for alarm beyond a vague suspicion born of instinct alone.
And so the three men slipped forward, a long spear trailing in each right hand, their only guide the keen ears this primitive life had developed.
One of the three, a stocky man with a square, strong face and heavily muscled body, deep-tanned, paused to adjust his grasp on the stone-tipped spear he carried. As he did so there was a quick stir in the tangled grasses near his hand and Sleeza, the snake, struck savagely at his fingers.
With a startled, involuntary shout, the man jerked away, barely avoiding the deadly fangs. And then he snatched the flint knife from his loin-cloth and plunged it fiercely again and again into Sleeza's threshing body.
When finally he stopped, the mottled coils were limp in death. He saw then that his companions were standing erect, staring to the west.
From his sitting position he looked up at the others.
"Neela—?" he began.
"—has fled," finished one of the hunters. "He heard you quarreling with Sleeza. We cannot catch him, now."
The third man grinned. "Next time, Barkoo, let Sleeza bite you. While you may die, at least our food will not run away!"
Ignoring the grim attempt at humor, Barkoo scrambled to his feet and watched, in helpless rage, the bobbing heads and flying legs of Neela and his flock, now far away.
Barkoo swore mightily. "And it's too late to hunt further," he growled. "As it is, darkness will come before we reach the caves of Tharn. To return empty-handed besides—" One of his companions suddenly caught Barkoo by the arm. "Look!" he cried, pointing toward the west.
A young man, clad only in an animal skin about his middle, had leaped from a clump of grasses less than twenty yards from the fleeing herd. In one hand was a long war-spear held aloft as he swooped toward them.
Instantly the herd turned aside and with a fresh burst of speed sought to out-run this new danger.
"Look at him run!" Barkoo shouted.
With the speed of a charging lion the youth was covering the ground in mighty bounds, slanting rapidly up to the racing animals. A moment later and he had drawn abreast of a sleek young mare, her slim ears backlaid in terror.
Still running at full speed, the young man drew back his arm and sent his spear flashing across the gap between him and the mare, catching her full in the exposed side.
As though her legs had been jerked from under her, the creature turned a complete circle in mid-air before crashing to the ground, her scream of agony coming clearly to the three watching hunters.
Barkoo, when the young man knelt beside the kill, shook his head in tight-lipped tribute.
"I might have known he would do something like this," he said, exasperated. "When I asked him to come with us he refused; the sun was too hot. Now he will laugh at us—taunt us as bad hunters."
"Some day he will not come back from the hunt," predicted one of the men....