amidst broad gardens and ancient trees and of a proud old man
with beetling brows--an old man who held his head very high--and
Bradley shook his head and turned away again.
They went back then to their little acre, and the days came
and went, and the man fashioned spear and bow and arrows and
hunted with them that they might have meat, and he made hooks
of fishbone and caught fishes with wondrous flies of his own
invention; and the girl gathered fruits and cooked the flesh
and the fish and made beds of branches and soft grasses.
She cured the hides of the animals he killed and made them
soft by much pounding. She made sandals for herself and for
the man and fashioned a hide after the manner of those worn
by the warriors of her tribe and made the man wear it, for his
own garments were in rags.
She was always the same--sweet and kind and helpful--but always
there was about her manner and her expression just a trace of
wistfulness, and often she sat and looked at the man when he did
not know it, her brows puckered in thought as though she were
trying to fathom and to understand him.
In the face of the cliff, Bradley scooped a cave from the rotted
granite of which the hill was composed, making a shelter for them
against the rains. He brought wood for their cook-fire which
they used only in the middle of the day--a time when there was
little likelihood of Wieroos being in the air so far from their
city--and then he learned to bank it with earth in such a way that
the embers held until the following noon without giving off smoke.
Always he was planning on reaching the mainland, and never a day<<BackPagesTo menuNext>>