He faced the wind, which was blowing at about six miles an hour from the northwest. It also brought sounds: from far off a lion’s roar; nearer, a small cat’s scream; the snorting of some large beast, rhino or bison; the clatter of hoofs on rocks to the west. The lion roared again and then was silent. He smiled. It had been a long time since he had heard a lion roaring. This one was deeper than any he had known; the cave lion was somewhat larger than the African. A mammoth trumpeted shrilly from near where the lion’s roar had come. Then there was silence. After a while he heard a fox bark. He lingered a few more moments, drinking in the rising moon and the pure air, and then he returned to the ship below. Drummond Silverstein was putting away his astronomical equipment. Rachel had gone.
‘I like this world already,’ Gribardsun said. ‘I knew I would. It’s simple and savage and uncrowded with humans.’
‘Next you’ll be saying you want to stay behind when we leave,’ Silverstein said.
He sounded as if he did not altogether disapprove of the idea.
‘Well, if a man wants to know this time thoroughly, hell have to stay here the rest of his life,’ Gribardsun said. ‘He could explore Europe and then cross the land bridge to Africa. As I understand it, the Sahara is a green and wet land with rivers full of hippos. And the sub-Sahara, my old stamping ground, is a paradise of animal life. And there might even be a few subhumans left, roaming the savannahs or the forests.’
‘That would be self-indulgent and suicidal,’ Drummond said. ‘Who would gain anything from it? All that data and no one to leave it to.’
‘I could leave a record of some sort at an agreed-upon place, and you could pick it up immediately on returning,’ Gribardsun said. He laughed, then picked up a large plastic box containing recording equipment and followed Silverstein into the vessel.
‘You talk like von Billmann,’ Silverstein said. ‘He’s grumbling already because he won’t get a chance to locate and record pre-Indo-Hittite speech. He’s talking of making a trip by himself to Germany.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with dreaming,’ Gribardsun said. ‘But we’re all scientists and thoroughly disciplined. We’ll do our job and then go home.’
‘I hope so,’ Drummond said as he stowed away his equipment in the middle cabin. ‘But don’t you feel something in the air? Something …?’
‘Wild and free?’ Rachel said. She was looking at Gribardsun with a peculiarly intent expression. ‘The soul of the primitive is floating on the air.’
‘Very poetic,’ von Billmann said. ‘Yes, I feel it too. I think it’s because we’ve been living in a cramped and regulated world, and suddenly we’re released with a whole unspoiled world to ourselves, and we feel like exploding. It’s a psychological reaction that our psychologists didn’t foresee.’
Gribardsun did not comment. He was thinking that if this were true, then those who originally were the wildest and had repressed the most, would react the most violently.
The Silversteins let down their wall bunks in the middle room and closed the port after saying good night. The other two went to bed. The vessel was not spacious, but it was designed to be lived in for four years if the explorers found it necessary.
Gribardsun’s ear alarm went off at five A.M., ship’s time. He rolled out and did a few sitting-up exercises, ate breakfast, put on clothes, and left. He carried an express rifle in one gloved hand and a short-range rifle which shot anesthetic missiles in a sheath over one shoulder. He also carried a big hunting knife and an automatic pistol.
The air was cold and pale. The sun had not risen, but it was bright enough to see everything clearly. His breath steamed. He climbed briskly despite the weight of sack and weapons. His clothing was thin and light but very warm. After a while he had to unzip the front of the one-piece suit to cool off.
At the top he stopped to look back. He had left a message for them in the recorder-player. He might be back before they awakened.
He turned and trotted away down the gentle slope. He was exuberant. This was a wild land, not nearly as vegetation-grown as he would have liked it, but the open stretches had an appeal.
He had gone perhaps a mile, still trotting, when he flushed out grouse from a stand of dwarf pines. A minute later he saw a brownish fox scud from a ravine and across a field to a hiding place behind a boulder. Half a mile farther on, he had to swing northward because of six woolly rhinoceroses, one of which made short savage charges toward him.
He kept on trotting. The sun rose, but not for long. Clouds appeared and covered the sky quickly. And half an hour later, rain fell heavily.
His clothing was waterproof. But the water was cold and chilled his face. He passed a herd of vast shapes with humped heads and necks and great curving tusks. They were plucking up moss and the large flat cushions of a plant with white flowers (Dryos octopetda probably), saxifrage, and the dwarf azaleas, willows, and birch. He could hear the rumbling of their stomachs above the downpour. It was an old sound and a soothing one. He felt at home despite the freezing rain.
A little later he came to stands of dwarf pines again. As the glaciers retreated northward, the pines would appear in growing numbers. South, in lower Iberia, taller pines would be spreading over the land.
Gribardsun had been following the edge of the top of the valley. When he was above where he estimated the natives were, he looked over the edge. He had stopped almost exactly above them. The overhang, of course, hid their dwelling place, but he recognized the hill and the land below it. There was no sign of life. Either the hunters were staying home because of the rain, which did not seem likely since they had not been overstocked with meat, or they had already left. He resumed his trot but turned northward again, intending to make a circle and return to the vessel. He would be late, but that did not matter. They had their work to do first, and they could still start out for the site on schedule. He wasn’t worried about the boy, Abinal. The panacea he had given him worked against typhus. Its effect would last for several more hours.
The rain was as heavy as before. He splashed along for a while and then decided to cut straight back to the vessel. The rain had discouraged most beasts from coming out.
He turned to the west and started back up the long slope. As he passed by a high outcrop of limestone, he slowed down. If he poked around in there, he might scare something out. He stopped and removed his small motion-picture camera from the bag and took some shots. Then he went up to a gap between two tall rocks and threw several stones into it. Something grunted from deep within. He backed away and pointed the camera at the opening. Nothing, however, emerged.
He threw some more stones inside, heard another grunt, and entered the gap. He did not know what was inside. There were no tracks since stone covered the entranceway and the rain would, in any event, have washed away odors. When he got about twelve feet inside the gap, however, he smelled bear. He had installed the camera inside his hood; its base was secured to a helmet-like arrangement which fitted around his head and which he had removed from the pack. Thus, he could take pictures and at the same time handle his express rifle. If the light was too dim to give good pictures, he could always erase the electronic film.
He did not intend to kill the beast. He never killed unless he had to do so for defense or meat. But he had been so long without adventure that he could not resist sticking his head into the den. Later, he admitted to himself that he had lost his good sense for a moment. What did he expect a bear on its home territory to do other than charge the trespasser?
The beast heard or smelled him, and it snarled. He went on, his rifle held out ahead of him. The gap curved to the left for about ten feet and then straightened out. It had narrowed overhead to a thin line and then, within a few feet, its edges merged.
About that time, either his wits returned or his blood cooled. He was not afraid, but he did not want to kill the bear. What good would it do anybody? Then it occurred to him that the meat would not spoil. The people would walk through the rain to get it, even if
it was about five miles away. He could block up the entrance with rocks to keep the hyenas and wolves away. And this morning’s indulgence (that was what it was) could be justified.
Of course, he could have killed a mammoth or rhino but then the carcass would have been out in the open and so subject to the carrion eaters.
He grimaced. He did not have to justify himself to anybody except himself.
The snarling became a roaring, a huge head with white-edged eyes and dripping saliva showed itself a few feet ahead of him. The gap was so narrow that the great beast had to shove both shoulders against the walls to get through. Gribard-! sun fired the rifle; the noise was deafening in the tight corridor; the 500 express bullet went through the skull between the eyes and the beast fell dead.
Another bear behind it, roaring, tried to get at Gribardsun by climbing over the carcass. It became stuck in the narrower opening higher up, and Gribardsun’s bullet went into its throat. It died on top of its mate.
The Englishman climbed over the top body and into the dark and fetid chamber. He turned on a flashlight and inspected the cave. As he had expected, there were two cubs. They cowered in the rear but snarled at him when he picked them up. He threw them ahead of him over the bodies, climbed out again, and then had to chase them down. He had expected them to stay close to the bodies of their parents, but they wanted their freedom.
After catching the cubs, he injected a dormgen shot into each. While they snoozed away, he piled large rocks and small boulders over the entrance to the cave. Satisfied that hyenas and wolves would have a hard time getting in to the bodies, he picked the cubs up, one under each arm, and set off. He returned at a faster pace and so was only half an hour behind the time he had promised to return.
The others were worried because he was late, and they were surprised on seeing the cubs. Rachel thought they were darling, but she was concerned about feeding them.
‘They’re past the nursing period,’ Gribardsun said. ‘Meat and berries are all they’ll need.’
He brought out a package which he unfolded on the lee side of the vessel. It was a conical framework about three feet high. He spread a thin sheet of plastic over it, secured its corners, and then sprayed a thick coat of foam over the plastic. The foam dried within ten minutes, and he sprayed another coat and then another. The three coats made a covering four inches thick. He cut a hole at the base for the cubs and used the cutout as a swinging door. The cubs now had a snug warm house.
The bearhouse was a smaller scale model of the dwellings that the humans would erect later on. These were very light and even Rachel could carry one for miles, though the size made them awkward to handle. They could be dragged through the roughest land, however, without damaging them. And axles and wheels, also stored in the vessel, could be attached to them when they were to be moved any distance.
At noon, they were all back at the tribal campsite. This was to be referred to in the official reports, and so unofficially among themselves, as Site A-One or just A-One. Again, they were confronted by a number of warriors. Gribardsun proceeded ahead of his fellows but much more swiftly this time, as if he expected to be received without suspicion. He headed for the tent housing Abinal and entered with a nod to the mother, Amaga. Abinal looked much better. He was frightened on seeing the stranger, but Gribardsun talked in a soothing tone while he examined him. He gave the boy another pill, but the boy refused to swallow it.
Gribardsun, smiling, took out another and swallowed it to show Abinal that it was harmless.
Abinal still turned his face away, and his mother jabbered away at Gribardsun. It seemed she was trying to get him to leave the boy alone.
Gribardsun made signs indicating that Abinal would die if he did not take the pill. He also indicated that the others would die, too, but he was not sure that he was getting his message across.
He left the tent because it was obvious that Abinal was too scared of him to do anything he was going to suggest. Rachel was taking films of a woman skinning a marmot. Drummond was knocking off samples of rocks with a pick while a crowd of children watched him along with several of the men. Robert von Billmann had given an old white-haired woman, who probably wasn’t much over fifty-five, some meat, and she was teaching him the language. She was showing him various objects as referents.
Gribardsun decided that their camp should be set up about a quarter-mile down the valley. There was a slight overhang halfway up a steep hill that would give them protection from the weather. They would be close enough to visit the site without wasting much travel time. But they would not be so close that the natives would feel that the aliens were sitting on top of them.
Gribardsun entered the tent again. The boy was being fed by his sister, Laminak, who appeared to be about twelve years old. She looked up startled when Gribardsun came in, but she smiled at him. He smiled back at her and, squatting, felt Abinal’s pulse. It was seventy-six, and his skin was warm but moist. Gribardsun stood up and turned away and inserted a panacea into the spout of a bag of water. That the pill would be much diluted did not matter. It was extremely powerful. Moreover, if the others drank from the bag, that was all the better. Gribardsun would have liked to dope all the water bags.
The boy said something, and the girl stood up and faced the Englishman. She spoke to him in a protesting manner. He understood, after a minute, that Abinal had seen him drop something into the water. Gribardsun did not try to deny it. He tried instead to demonstrate, with sign language, that he meant to make Abinal well.
Laminak called out, and Amaga, her mother, entered. There wasn’t much room to stand in the tent then. Gribardsun bent over and went out through the narrow, low opening.
‘What’s going on in there?’ Rachel asked.
Gribardsun told her, and she said, ‘If you get them upset, then we lose our chance to study them at close range.’
‘And if they all die, then we lose our chance too,’ he said. ‘Besides, I can’t see letting anyone die if I can prevent it. Even if…’
‘Even if they’re going to die anyway and, in one sense, are already dead?’ Rachel said.
He smiled and said, ‘In that sense, we also are already dead. And we know it! But that doesn’t stop us from trying to live forever, does it?’
Amaga came out of the tent with the bag of water. She walked to the end of the ledge and poured the water down the hillside. Then, after a quick but triumphant glance at the Englishman, she went back into the tent.
‘They won’t accept my help,’ he said. ‘They’re afraid I’ll get control of them if they take my medicine, I suppose. And so Abinal may die.’
‘It’s a matter of timing,’ she said. ‘If we had only gotten here a week or so sooner, they might have accepted your medicine when Abinal got sick. But…’
Gribardsun was not one to dwell long on what-if’s. If he could not help Abinal now, then he would work to establish confidence in himself through the tribe’s elders. He might be able to help Abinal later on. If it was too late then, so be it.
Through sign language, he communicated to the adult males that he had killed two bears - or two large ferocious animals and that they should follow him to the scene of the kill. They were reluctant. Then, understanding at last that they were afraid to leave the women and children while any of the four stayed behind, he told the others they would have to come with him. Von Billmann protested, but Gribardsun said that their work would go better if he could make these people grateful to him.
Gribardsun also suggested that those women who could be spared should come along with them. After about twenty minutes, they set out with the four aliens in the lead. The natives were still suspicious, but the image of all that meat was too tempting.
Long before he reached the site, Gribardsun knew that someone had been at the bears. Through the slight drizzle, he saw that the stones he had piled up had been torn down and rolled away.
He entered the gap in the rocks slowly, cautiously. There were no humans there, and only parts o
f the bears remained. The entrails had been left behind, and there was blood on the rocks here and there. However, the robbers had done a relatively neat job.
Gribardsun paid no attention to the furious chatter of the disappointed men and women nor their reproachful expressions. He cast around the area past the rocky floor until he found a footprint in the half-frozen mud. It was filling in swiftly, but there was enough of an outline to show him that a large man with boots or some kind of shoes had slipped off a rock and stepped into the mud.
He went north and within a hundred yards found that a bear’s paw had trailed in the mud for several feet. It must have slipped off the shoulders of the man carrying it.
‘There must be quite a few in the party,’ he said to von Billmann, ‘Those bears together weigh over two thousand pounds, and while they were cut into smaller pieces, no ten men are going to carry the pieces away. I wonder why I wasn’t attacked. They must have been watching me while I blocked the gap.’
He decided that it was because he was a queerly clothed stranger, and also because they might have been scared by the firing of the rifle.
There was a shout, and they looked up to see a band of six hunters approaching them. These were Glamug, the shaman, Shivkaet, Angrogrim, Gullshab, Dubhab, and the chief, Thammash. They carried pieces of two reindeer wrapped in the skinned-off hides of the animals.
There was a loud and fierce conference with frequent glances and gesticulations at the four strangers.
By now, Gribardsun and von Billmann had learned that the basic word for an adult male bear was wotaba and for a female adult bear was ivotaimg. There were frequent references to both, and Gribardsun could not understand this. Perhaps they knew from the entrails and the single mark of the claw that the animals were bears, but how did they know the sex of each? Then he remembered that some of them had gone into the cave and must have deduced from evidence there that there were beasts of two sexes. He would find out their method of detection when he learned the language.