“Flint is hard and tough,” was the answer. “Of all stone it is the best for my work. I leave one surface smooth because I know of no other way to make straight, sharp edges. These are turtle-backs; flat and smooth on one surface, chipped round on the other. What do you think of them?”

The great Mammoth gazed helplessly at the flakes and broken chips scattered thickly over the ledge. The Ape Boy’s explanation added but little to his store of knowledge. All rocks seemed to him cold and lifeless objects; sharp and unpleasant to the touch.

“But why beat them together?” he asked much puzzled. “Do you eat them?”

“Eat flints? What an odd question,” the Ape Boy chuckled. “Whoever heard of any man or animal doing anything like that? They are tools and weapons just as I told you. This one,”—he stooped and picked up a large almond-shaped flake—“is an ax-head. That”—pointing to another of no definite form—“is a scraper. Here is another kind”—he selected a broad blade and held it up to the Mammoth; “the finest I have. Do you know what it is?”

Hairi shook his head vigorously. He was growing weary of rocks. Now he knew all that was to be learned of them,—and they were but commonplace things as he could see. His first curiosity was doomed to further disappointment. The Ape Boy pounded flints but did not eat them as the Mammoth half hoped he might. Tools and weapons were beyond his power of understanding. He lost interest.

“Perhaps the little fat one knows,” the Ape Boy continued. “Do you?” and he held the flint in front of Wulli’s nose.

A spasm of rage seized the Rhinoceros on hearing himself addressed in such a disrespectful manner. “Oo-wee! No,” he squealed angrily.

“Never fear,” laughed his tormentor; “this cannot harm you. It is only a knife;” and he made a pretense of cutting the tip of Wulli’s horn.

The Rhinoceros could only glare at him who dared take such liberties. Never had he been so teased.

“We have had our fill of rocks,” he said coldly. “Where did you leave the little red animal. You say it is asleep.”

“Yes. Only when I blow in its face to feed it, will it awaken.”

“What does it eat?” Hairi asked.

“Sticks and leaves; the drier the better. Green ones make it sick.”

“How odd,” the Mammoth remarked. “A grass-eater and yet green things make it sick. Where does it sleep?”

“In the cleft—the Cave Lion’s path. He is afraid of it and will not return while it is there.”

“Then he stays away most of the time?” said the Mammoth.

“He comes here much more than I like,” the Ape Boy replied. “I often leave for food and water—and flints too. I leave my fire burning but sometimes it goes out. Then, like as not, I find the Cave Lion all settled here when I return. If so, I smoke him out again. He goes away growling and waits around for another chance.”

“To step in when you step out,” chuckled the Mammoth who was beginning to understand this novel see-saw arrangement.

“Exactly. You see there are not enough caves for everybody,—that is, men and animals. When a cave-man leaves his home, even for a short time, he is liable to find some animal occupying it when he returns. We have fierce battles sometimes. I cannot fight the Lion with a flint-ax. He is too big and strong; so I use fire.”

“Are you a cave-animal?” the Mammoth asked.

“Not a really true one. I live in a cave half of the time and am half animal so that makes me only half a cave-animal.”

“What is the other half?” inquired Wulli suddenly becoming interested.

“Man, I guess;” the Ape Boy looked thoughtfully at the ground and began twisting a stick with his toes.

“What is a man? Why is he not an animal?” the Mammoth demanded.

“I scarcely know, myself; but man is different. He walks on his hind legs, hunts, lives in a cave and——”

“The Bear does all that,” Wulli interrupted. “What else?”

“He uses fire—those red tongues and white clouds.”

“Polecats make bad smells. There must be something else.”

“He makes flint tools.”

The Rhinoceros had no reply ready for this statement, whereupon Hairi hastened to answer:

“Animals never crack rocks and they are proud of it. I am glad that I am not a man. They hide in caves and are ashamed to show themselves.”

“Flint-making is work to be proud of,” the Ape Boy retorted. “Were it not for that, men would be nothing but beasts.”

Haiti and Wulli both frowned. This last remark seemed to reflect upon themselves.

“So you think yourself better than us because you can crack rocks?” the Elephant sneered.

“Certainly,” was the prompt answer. “Men can rule the world if they will; but only with the flint can they do it. When once they learn to make proper weapons none can withstand them. They have not yet learned; but the time will come;” and the Ape Boy gazed at the blue sky like one inspired.

“Umph! Fine big words,” the Rhinoceros sniffed. “But these same men scatter and run like rabbits whenever we meet. I have no quarrel with them but they are not friends of mine.”

“Nor mine;” the Ape Boy scowled and said this with such emphasis that his visitors stared.

“You say first one thing and then another,” Hairi grumbled. “What do you mean? Are not the Trog-men your friends?”

The question aroused the Ape Boy as if by magic. His deep-set eyes blazed like two coals of fire. His lips parted in a snarling grin, fiercer than that of a mad wolf. Every muscle in his body swelled and quivered.

“I hate them,” was all he said; but every word reeked with loathing and contempt.

“Why?”

“They cast me out,” the youth fairly howled. “It is not enough that I make weapons for hunters and warriors. They would have me be a hunter and warrior too. Men hated me because I would neither hunt nor fight.”

“Can you not fight?” demanded the Rhinoceros scornfully. “Even a squirrel——”

“I can,” the Ape Boy cut him short.

“But I heard you say otherwise,” Wulli snorted.

“I can if I will,” the other corrected. “That is different.”

“Are you afraid to fight?”

“I have held my own against Grun Waugh these many days,” the Ape Boy replied simply. “Have I shown fear of the Mammoth and Rhinoceros?”

“No;” Wulli gave an emphatic grunt. “You have not; but I fail to understand,” and he looked thoughtfully at the ground as though at a loss what to say next.

“When I was young,” the youth continued; “none frowned upon my doing the work I like best—making flint tools and weapons. I could make them well—better than any grown man or woman—although I have always striven to do better. I did little else, but finally the time came when my people thought me big and strong enough to play a man’s part. They gave me an ax and dart and sent me forth with our best fighters.”

“That was right,” Wulli observed with an emphatic shake of his head.

“But I refused to fight.”

“Oo!” The Rhinoceros was greatly distressed.

“And I would not hunt.”

“Hunt what?”

“Animals; the Stag, Horse and other grass-eaters.”

“Um,” Wulli blinked stupidly. “But you refused to fight?”

“Yes, I refused.”

“What did your people say about that?” Hairi asked.

“They were very angry,” the Ape Boy replied. “Had not my father interfered, I would have been killed. But no longer would they permit me to live among them, so I was cast out to live alone, a renegade, enemy of men. Since I would not do just as they wished me to, they said that I was not one of them. I came here, to the only other home I had ever known; and here I have lived until you came, alone and without companions, man or beast.”

“Terrible,” Hairi sniffed, deeply touched by the last sentence of this narrative. “I nearly died of loneliness one cold season when the Tundr-folk went away and left me by myself. I have one good friend; no better can be found. Why not a second—yourself? The Mammoth, Rhinoceros and Ape Boy—we three could rule the world if we willed. Come; join us.”

“But I am a man,” replied the surprised youth. “Men would frown upon me as a beast and traitor.”

“Have they not already done so?”

The Ape Boy’s lips curled in a hideous snarl: “I hate them.” His distorted face expressed only contempt and loathing.

“And you will join us?”

“But you object to my flint-making,” protested the youth; and yet as a recluse and foe of men, he inwardly viewed the other’s suggestion with no little favor. “I cannot give it up. I would rather make flints and abide alone than put them aside for the Mammoth and Rhinoceros.”

“We do not object to your flint-making,” Hairi replied. “We merely cannot see why you choose to do it. Will you join us?”

The Ape Boy looked from one to another of the pair and hesitated. They were huge, superb creatures; his heart warmed.

“Why not?” a voice within him asked. “What friends more wonderful than the Mammoth and Rhinoceros, could a lone man wish? Forget those who drove you into the world an outcast and throw in your lot with this mighty pair.”

He hesitated. “But the Rhinoceros; are his wishes the same as yours? He has not yet spoken.”

“He and I think as one,” Hairi answered quickly. “Is it not so, Wulli?”

But the Rhinoceros failed to respond. Wearied by the conversation, he had fallen asleep with head hung low upon his ample chest.

The Ape Boy peered into his face and grinned: “Doesn’t he look odd that way; so big, fat and peaceful? We might do something; just to tease him; run away and hide. We can go down into the valley and be back in time to find him wondering what has become of us. He will be surprised when he awakens.”

“He may be vexed as well,” the Mammoth replied gravely. “Wulli is odd about some things; a bit too serious-minded. He might take offense.”

“Then we must make him change his ways. We will be gone but a short time. He can easily find us if he tries.”

Hairi yielded reluctantly, for a prank at his friend’s expense filled him with misgiving. The Ape Boy tip-toed to the edge of the terrace, then suddenly turned and came back.

“He might think we have fallen from the Rock, when he awakens. This will teach him better.”

So saying, he picked up a chunk of rotten wood—short and hollow through the center. This he jammed over the tip of Wulli’s horn firmly and yet so quietly that the sleeper merely groaned but did not open his eyes. He then hurried away with the Mammoth and both descended into the valley. They talked and tramped about, looking at this and that but taking no heed of passing time and the twilight fast gathering about them. Finally the Ape Boy turned and looked up at Moustier now dim and hazy above him in the dusk.

“It is growing late,” he said anxiously; “too late for us to find our way up in the dark. What shall we do?”

“I fear that we must stay where we are,” the Mammoth replied. “I know that I could never climb up there in the dark.”

“What if the Cave Lion returns?”

“Wulli can manage him alone, although I would not wish to have it so; but how are we to mend matters?”

Nothing more could be done so the pair proceeded to make themselves comfortable for the night. The Ape Boy snuggled up against the Mammoth’s warm coat and was soon asleep, which latter example his companion was not slow to follow.

All this time the Rhinoceros remained asleep upon the Rock of Moustier, unconscious of his own solitude. Oncoming night cast its first twilight shadows over the valley and highlands. The bats came forth from their hiding-places and fluttered about the cliffs and ledges on nimble wings. Not until the chirping of crickets and distant cries of night-roving animals heralded the fast-gathering dusk did he awaken, yawn and look about to find himself alone.

It took him but a moment to see how very much alone he was. As he gazed wildly about him, he saw that the Mammoth and Ape Boy were gone. He ran to one side of the terrace and looked down into the dark depths; not a sign. A quick dash to the other side produced no better results. The Mammoth had disappeared. Gloomy thoughts tormented the Rhinoceros; he became frantic.

“Oo-oo-oo! he has fallen from the rock or something terrible has happened. Hairi would not have left me alone unless——” He stopped, for at that moment he caught sight of the chunk of rotten wood firmly wedged on the tip of his horn. He gasped, sniffed and his brows contracted with terrible rage. For the second time, his glossy weapon had been the sport of others; once by the Ape Boy, now by——

“This is the Mammoth’s work,” he squealed, working himself into a frenzy. “He shall pay dearly when I meet him again.”

He strove to shake loose the offending object but it stuck tight in spite of all he could do. Wulli’s rage passed all bounds. It was too late for a descent or search for his missing companions. In a storm of fury at his own helplessness, he again stepped to the edge of the terrace and peered into the black depths. A single misstep might mean a fall and a broken neck. He shivered at the thought. The clammy night mists came floating about his ears. They enveloped the terrace in a hazy fog. He was cold, lonesome and beside himself with rage. A dark shapeless blotch on the rock-wall suddenly attracted his attention,—the grotto whose dark entrance offered him its shelter. With bitterness in his heart, Wulli backed away from the ledge into the gloomy hole. Here he stood stamping his feet until mind and body yielded beneath the strain and once more he fell into a sound sleep.

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