“It is finished. He is dead.” Pic stood at the cave-mouth facing the two animals who all this time had remained awed spectators of what was transpiring within.

Wulli took a long deep breath. He turned to the Mammoth. “The Trog-man is dead. Why should we stay here?”

“Yes, why?” Hairi glanced at Pic. “And you—what will you do now?”

The Ape Boy looked thoughtfully at the sky.

“I scarcely know. Now that my father is dead, I am quite alone. I have lived much alone but while he was alive I did not feel as now—without any friends at all.”

“None at all? What of us?” The Mammoth appeared much grieved.

“I meant men-friends—my own people,” Pic replied. “They say—my father said so too—that men and animals can never be friends. I do not see why it should be so. Except for my father, I have known none that please me more than do you and Wulli.”

“Why not join us?” said the Mammoth. “We are two; with you we would be three. I wish it could be so.”

“And the Rhinoceros—what does he say?”

Wulli’s eyes twinkled. He bobbed his head up and down until his ears rattled.

“We are three,” he grunted. “Good; let us be off. We can be of no more help to this dead Trog-man.”

“Agh!” Pic looked down and scratched his head. “What is to be done with the body? I cannot leave it like that—so cold and alone.”

“But not for long,” Wulli snorted with brutal frankness. “The Cave Beasts will attend to it. Every hyena in the neighborhood will hear the news by nightfall.”

“Yes, I know.” Pic was quite familiar with this method of caring for the dead. Hyenas were prompt and obliging undertakers. The Cave Lion might prefer food of his own killing; but hyenas were not so particular. Pic shuddered, as in his mind’s eye he saw these unclean scavengers rending and devouring the lifeless body.

“The foul brutes must not touch him,” he said determinedly. “This grotto is now my father’s home and in it he shall lie where no flesh-eater can reach him.”

“What do you intend to do?” Wulli asked.

“Wait and see.” The Ape Boy turned, re-entered the grotto and kneeled upon the floor. The Mammoth and Rhinoceros crowded closer into the low entrance and looked wonderingly on. They heard the sound of chopping—of flint-ax striking into hard dirt. In the dim light they could barely see the figure of the Ape Boy hard at work upon the cave-floor. Chop, chop,—the ax rose and fell, stopping at intervals as he laid it aside and scooped out the loosened earth with his hands. Long and earnestly he toiled while his friends stood guard at the cave-mouth and awaited developments. The work went on until a long shallow trench and piles of dirt bore witness to Pic’s untiring energy. Finally the chopping ceased and he came crawling to the light on his hands and knees.

Hairi and Wulli shifted to make room as he emerged and seated himself in the sunlight to rest and fill his lungs with fresh outside air.

“Why do you make that hole?” the Mammoth inquired.

“To bury the body,” Pic replied. “Once covered, the hyenas will find it hard work to dig him out.”

“Umph!” said Wulli. “I thought you were hunting for something in the cave-floor.”

“Whoow!” Pic’s eyes opened wide. “My father told me of something before he died. I had nigh forgotten.”

“What?”

“He was grateful because I helped him. He spoke of treasure that might some day be mine.”

“Treasure? What does that mean?” Hairi asked.

“Something nice. Something I would like to have.” The Ape Boy clapped his hands together. He grinned like a pleased child.

“What is it?”

“Umm—now what is it?” Pic screwed up his face much perplexed. “Agh! I do not know. My father did not say nor did I think to ask.”

“How unfortunate,” said the Mammoth. “Where did he say this treasure was? We can go and find it.”

“In a cave on a mountain side, buried in the floor near the entrance beneath a stone: that is what he said.”

“What cave; what mountain?”

Pic looked blank and threw up his hands, palms outwards.

“I am sure I do not know,” he replied helplessly. “I was not thinking of such things just then and forgot to ask.”

“Ooch, ooch,” Wulli snorted. “You should have known that we would like to see it. Is it something to eat!”

“My father did not tell me what is was.”

“What would you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nuts or fruits possibly,” Hairi suggested. “Squirrels and other animals sometimes bury them in the ground.”

“The flesh-eaters often act like that. I have seen them,” Wulli declared. “But they hide only bones. The treasure may be bones; who knows?”

“Not bones,” said the Ape Boy with a smile. “Bones without meat would be of no value to a cave-man. As for fruits and nuts, they would rot away. It is something else.”

“What, then?”

“I have no idea.”

The two animals raged inwardly, now that their curiosity was aroused and found nothing to satisfy it. Even Pic felt a new interest in the treasure, of which his father had spoken. He had not thought much about it at the time. His interest in the sick man had precluded all else. Now he inwardly rebuked himself for his lack of foresight. He might have learned the nature of the treasure and its place of concealment; but now his father was dead and the secret had died with him.

“Then the only thing to be done is to go and look for it,” the Mammoth suggested. “There are many caves. We can search them all.”

“The stone will help us,” said Pic, his hopes rising. “A stone in the floor marks the spot. I know of many caves; this one, mine upon the Rock and others; but none of them have stones in the floor. I am certain of that. When I have finished my task, we can determine what is to be done.”

So saying, he re-entered the grotto. The grave was dug—not a large or deep one, but with none but a flint tool he had done his best and could do no more. Laying aside his ax, he seized the dead man by the shoulders and dragged him into the shallow trench. The latter was scarcely large enough to contain the body; but he bent the limbs to fit and then began covering it with the loose earth lying about. Hairi and Wulli took no part except as interested spectators. They saw Pic pause in his work to place several stones for protection about the head. They saw him lay his ear to the dead man’s chest to make certain that no spark of life remained. They heard his surprised exclamation as his cheek encountered a hard object concealed beneath the bear-skin which now served as the dead man’s shroud. And as they gazed and wondered, the Ape Boy fumbled under the shaggy covering and drew forth something flat and leaf-shaped, much like his own hand in size and form.

“What is it?” whispered the Mammoth as Pic arose to his feet and glided to the cave-mouth. But the Ape Boy could find no words for reply. His eyes were fixed on that which he held in his hand; a flint-blade of lustrous grey, wonderfully formed, beautifully chipped on both sides—a specimen of workmanship unsurpassed. To his trained eyes, the marvellous blade was a sight to endure forever.

“Umph! Only a rock,” said the Rhinoceros as he peered over the other’s shoulder. But Pic was too engrossed in his discovery to hear. His face glowed with excitement as he held the prized flint before his companion’s eyes so that they might see and admire.

“Is it not wonderful?” he asked. “So beautifully flaked and chipped. See how broad and shapely it is; pointed, double-edged and the same on both sides. Agh, my poor little turtle-backs! Never can I make another after having seen this wonder of wonders. How was it done? I would give my life to know him who made it and learn the secret of its making.”

“A rock,” sneered the Mammoth; then as the Ape Boy shrank from him offended, he said in less scornful tones: “Yes, it is quite remarkable; but neither Wulli nor I have use for such things. Come; let us go.”

“Where?” Pic had not once taken his eyes off of the great flint.

“North. Who knows but that the cave and its treasure might not be there?”

“You will see Trog-men too.” Wulli added. “I know because I have seen them. They spend most of their time cracking rocks along the river banks.”

“Is it so?” Pic glanced tenderly at the great blade and pondered. Perhaps these northern flint-workers knew the secret of double-flaking and fine chipping like that shown in his newly-discovered prize. Such knowledge were well worth the seeking. His skill in making turtle-backs—flaked round on one surface; flat and smooth on the other—now seemed to him but feeble and wasted effort. As for the gem he held, it was the tiny chipping along the margins which brought them to such keen straight edges, that aroused his greatest interest and speculation. The tiny chipping! That was the substance of the whole matter. To learn how such work was done, was a possibility too strong to resist.

“I will go with you;” this with the air of one whose determination is made, once and for all. “One who lives with beasts must cease to be a man,” he said to himself. “It is broken—the last tie which bound me to men.” He glanced at the half-buried corpse; then realizing that his task was uncompleted, he re-entered the grotto and once more began piling the dirt over the body. When the grave was half-filled he stopped.

“I have stolen my father’s last flint. He shall have mine instead;” and, forthwith, his own ax lay beside the dead man.

“Why do you do that?” inquired the Mammoth who had been quick to see.

“He might need it,” Pic answered. “At least his shadow might need it.”

“Shadow? Oomp! He would need food even more.”

“True enough,” Pic admitted. “I had not thought of that.” He crawled on hands and knees to the rear of the cave and groped about in the darkness. In a few moments he returned carrying a long ill-smelling object—the almost putrid limb of a wild-ox. Its odor sickened him. “Poor stuff but it must do for the want of something better,” was his only comment as the two animals shrank back in disgust. He dropped it into the grave. There seemed nothing more to be done, so he covered all with dirt, stamping it firmly down and piling more rocks over the head and feet. This finished, he crawled to the cave-mouth and emerged into the open with eyes blinking at the blinding light.

“All is done,” he said. “And now for the country of the flint-workers.”

“And the cave with its buried treasure. Do not forget that,” Wulli added. “It must be found.”

Nothing more was said. The trio descended the slope and followed the winding base of the hill along the same route as that by which Hairi and Wulli had first come. As they reached the bend which veered their course to the north, the Ape Boy who was last in line, stopped short. As the others plodded on, he turned for a last look at the distant grotto. His right hand gripping the prized flint-blade was raised high above his head in farewell to the dead Cave Man.

“Rest while your shadow guards you,” he said in a solemn voice. “The night has come; your day is ended.” The uplifted arm fell to his side. He faced about and in a moment had vanished around the bend, leaving the last tie which bound him to humanity lying buried in the floor of the cave.