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I found her down in the old neighborhood near the blueberry swamp, where
my mother lived and where Lop-Ear and I had built our first tree-shelter.
It was unexpected. As I came under the tree I heard the familiar soft
sound and looked up. There she was, the Swift One, sitting on a limb and
swinging her legs back and forth as she looked at me.
I stood still for some time. The sight of her had made me very happy. And
then an unrest and a pain began to creep in on this happiness. I started
to climb the tree after her, and she retreated slowly out the limb. Just
as I reached for her, she sprang through the air and landed in the
branches of the next tree. From amid the rustling leaves she peeped out at
me and made soft sounds. I leaped straight for her, and after an exciting
chase the situation was duplicated, for there she was, making soft sounds
and peeping out from the leaves of a third tree.
It was borne in upon me that somehow it was different now from the old
days before Lop-Ear and I had gone on our adventure-journey. I wanted her,
and I knew that I wanted her. And she knew it, too. That was why she would
not let me come near her. I forgot that she was truly the Swift One, and
that in the art of climbing she had been my teacher. I pursued her from
tree to tree, and ever she eluded me, peeping back at me with kindly eyes,
making soft sounds, and dancing and leaping and teetering before me just
out of reach. The more she eluded me, the more I wanted to catch her, and
the lengthening shadows of the afternoon bore witness to the futility of
As I pursued her, or sometimes rested in an adjoining tree and watched
her, I noticed the change in her. She was larger, heavier, more grown-up.
Her lines were rounder, her muscles fuller, and there was about her that
indefinite something of maturity that was new to her and that incited me
on. Three years she had been gone—three years at the very least, and
the change in her was marked. I say three years; it is as near as I can
measure the time. A fourth year may have elapsed, which I have confused
with the happenings of the other three years. The more I think of it, the
more confident I am that it must be four years that she was away.
Where she went, why she went, and what happened to her during that time, I
do not know. There was no way for her to tell me, any more than there was
a way for Lop-Ear and me to tell the Folk what we had seen when we were
away. Like us, the chance is she had gone off on an adventure-journey, and
by herself. On the other hand, it is possible that Red-Eye may have been
the cause of her going. It is quite certain that he must have come upon
her from time to time, wandering in the woods; and if he had pursued her
there is no question but that it would have been sufficient to drive her
away. From subsequent events, I am led to believe that she must have
travelled far to the south, across a range of mountains and down to the
banks of a strange river, away from any of her kind. Many Tree People
lived down there, and I think it must have been they who finally drove her
back to the horde and to me. My reasons for this I shall explain later.
The shadows grew longer, and I pursued more ardently than ever, and still
I could not catch her. She made believe that she was trying desperately to
escape me, and all the time she managed to keep just beyond reach. I
forgot everything—time, the oncoming of night, and my meat-eating
enemies. I was insane with love of her, and with—anger, too, because
she would not let me come up with her. It was strange how this anger
against her seemed to be part of my desire for her.
As I have said, I forgot everything. In racing across an open space I ran
full tilt upon a colony of snakes. They did not deter me. I was mad. They
struck at me, but I ducked and dodged and ran on. Then there was a python
that ordinarily would have sent me screeching to a tree-top. He did run me
into a tree; but the Swift One was going out of sight, and I sprang back
to the ground and went on. It was a close shave. Then there was my old
enemy, the hyena. From my conduct he was sure something was going to
happen, and he followed me for an hour. Once we exasperated a band of wild
pigs, and they took after us. The Swift One dared a wide leap between
trees that was too much for me. I had to take to the ground. There were
the pigs. I didn't care. I struck the earth within a yard of the nearest
one. They flanked me as I ran, and chased me into two different trees out
of the line of my pursuit of the Swift One. I ventured the ground again,
doubled back, and crossed a wide open space, with the whole band grunting,
bristling, and tusk-gnashing at my heels.
If I had tripped or stumbled in that open space, there would have been no
chance for me. But I didn't. And I didn't care whether I did or not. I was
in such mood that I would have faced old Saber-Tooth himself, or a score
of arrow-shooting Fire People. Such was the madness of love...with me.
With the Swift One it was different. She was very wise. She did not take
any real risks, and I remember, on looking back across the centuries to
that wild love-chase, that when the pigs delayed me she did not run away
very fast, but waited, rather, for me to take up the pursuit again. Also,
she directed her retreat before me, going always in the direction she
wanted to go.
At last came the dark. She led me around the mossy shoulder of a canyon
wall that out-jutted among the trees. After that we penetrated a dense
mass of underbrush that scraped and ripped me in passing. But she never
ruffled a hair. She knew the way. In the midst of the thicket was a large
oak. I was very close to her when she climbed it; and in the forks, in the
nest-shelter I had sought so long and vainly, I caught her.
The hyena had taken our trail again, and he now sat down on the ground and
made hungry noises. But we did not mind, and we laughed at him when he
snarled and went away through the thicket. It was the spring-time, and the
night noises were many and varied. As was the custom at that time of the
year, there was much fighting among the animals. From the nest we could
hear the squealing and neighing of wild horses, the trumpeting of
elephants, and the roaring of lions. But the moon came out, and the air
was warm, and we laughed and were unafraid.
I remember, next morning, that we came upon two ruffled cock-birds that
fought so ardently that I went right up to them and caught them by their
necks. Thus did the Swift One and I get our wedding breakfast. They were
delicious. It was easy to catch birds in the spring of the year. There was
one night that year when two elk fought in the moonlight, while the Swift
One and I watched from the trees; and we saw a lion and lioness crawl up
to them unheeded, and kill them as they fought.
There is no telling how long we might have lived in the Swift One's
tree-shelter. But one day, while we were away, the tree was struck by
lightning. Great limbs were riven, and the nest was demolished. I started
to rebuild, but the Swift One would have nothing to do with it. As I was
to learn, she was greatly afraid of lightning, and I could not persuade
her back into the tree. So it came about, our honeymoon over, that we went
to the caves to live. As Lop-Ear had evicted me from the cave when he got
married, I now evicted him; and the Swift One and I settled down in it,
while he slept at night in the connecting passage of the double cave.
And with our coming to live with the horde came trouble. Red-Eye had had I
don't know how many wives since the Singing One. She had gone the way of
the rest. At present he had a little, soft, spiritless thing that
whimpered and wept all the time, whether he beat her or not; and her
passing was a question of very little time. Before she passed, even,
Red-Eye set his eyes on the Swift One; and when she passed, the
persecution of the Swift One began.
Well for her that she was the Swift One, that she had that amazing
aptitude for swift flight through the trees. She needed all her wisdom and
daring in order to keep out of the clutches of Red-Eye. I could not help
her. He was so powerful a monster that he could have torn me limb from
limb. As it was, to my death I carried an injured shoulder that ached and
went lame in rainy weather and that was a mark of his handiwork.
The Swift One was sick at the time I received this injury. It must have
been a touch of the malaria from which we sometimes suffered; but whatever
it was, it made her dull and heavy. She did not have the accustomed spring
to her muscles, and was indeed in poor shape for flight when Red-Eye
cornered her near the lair of the wild dogs, several miles south from the
caves. Usually, she would have circled around him, beaten him in the
straight-away, and gained the protection of our small-mouthed cave. But
she could not circle him. She was too dull and slow. Each time he headed
her off, until she gave over the attempt and devoted her energies wholly
to keeping out of his clutches.
Had she not been sick it would have been child's play for her to elude
him; but as it was, it required all her caution and cunning. It was to her
advantage that she could travel on thinner branches than he, and make
wider leaps. Also, she was an unerring judge of distance, and she had an
instinct for knowing the strength of twigs, branches, and rotten limbs.
It was an interminable chase. Round and round and back and forth for long
stretches through the forest they dashed. There was great excitement among
the other Folk. They set up a wild chattering, that was loudest when
Red-Eye was at a distance, and that hushed when the chase led him near.
They were impotent onlookers. The females screeched and gibbered, and the
males beat their chests in helpless rage. Big Face was especially angry,
and though he hushed his racket when Red-Eye drew near, he did not hush it
to the extent the others did.
As for me, I played no brave part. I know I was anything but a hero.
Besides, of what use would it have been for me to encounter Red-Eye? He
was the mighty monster, the abysmal brute, and there was no hope for me in
a conflict of strength. He would have killed me, and the situation would
have remained unchanged. He would have caught the Swift One before she
could have gained the cave. As it was, I could only look on in helpless
fury, and dodge out of the way and cease my raging when he came too near.
The hours passed. It was late afternoon. And still the chase went on.
Red-Eye was bent upon exhausting the Swift One. He deliberately ran her
down. After a long time she began to tire and could no longer maintain her
headlong flight. Then it was that she began going far out on the thinnest
branches, where he could not follow. Thus she might have got a breathing
spell, but Red-Eye was fiendish. Unable to follow her, he dislodged her by
shaking her off. With all his strength and weight, he would shake the
branch back and forth until he snapped her off as one would snap a fly
from a whip-lash. The first time, she saved herself by falling into
branches lower down. Another time, though they did not save her from the
ground, they broke her fall. Still another time, so fiercely did he snap
her from the branch, she was flung clear across a gap into another tree.
It was remarkable, the way she gripped and saved herself. Only when driven
to it did she seek the temporary safety of the thin branches. But she was
so tired that she could not otherwise avoid him, and time after time she
was compelled to take to the thin branches.
Still the chase went on, and still the Folk screeched, beat their chests,
and gnashed their teeth. Then came the end. It was almost twilight.
Trembling, panting, struggling for breath, the Swift One clung pitiably to
a high thin branch. It was thirty feet to the ground, and nothing
intervened. Red-Eye swung back and forth on the branch farther down. It
became a pendulum, swinging wider and wider with every lunge of his
weight. Then he reversed suddenly, just before the downward swing was
completed. Her grips were torn loose, and, screaming, she was hurled
toward the ground.
But she righted herself in mid-air and descended feet first. Ordinarily,
from such a height, the spring in her legs would have eased the shock of
impact with the ground. But she was exhausted. She could not exercise this
spring. Her legs gave under her, having only partly met the shock, and she
crashed on over on her side. This, as it turned out, did not injure her,
but it did knock the breath from her lungs. She lay helpless and
struggling for air.
Red-Eye rushed upon her and seized her. With his gnarly fingers twisted
into the hair of her head, he stood up and roared in triumph and defiance
at the awed Folk that watched from the trees. Then it was that I went mad.
Caution was thrown to the winds; forgotten was the will to live of my
flesh. Even as Red-Eye roared, from behind I dashed upon him. So
unexpected was my charge that I knocked him off his feet. I twined my arms
and legs around him and strove to hold him down. This would have been
impossible to accomplish had he not held tightly with one hand to the
Swift One's hair.
Encouraged by my conduct, Big-Face became a sudden ally. He charged in,
sank his teeth in Red-Eye's arm, and ripped and tore at his face. This was
the time for the rest of the Folk to have joined in. It was the chance to
do for Red-Eye for all time. But they remained afraid in the trees.
It was inevitable that Red-Eye should win in the struggle against the two
of us. The reason he did not finish us off immediately was that the Swift
One clogged his movements. She had regained her breath and was beginning
to resist. He would not release his clutch on her hair, and this
handicapped him. He got a grip on my arm. It was the beginning of the end
for me. He began to draw me toward him into a position where he could sink
his teeth into my throat. His mouth was open, and he was grinning. And
yet, though he had just begun to exert his strength, in that moment he
wrenched my shoulder so that I suffered from it for the remainder of my
And in that moment something happened. There was no warning. A great body
smashed down upon the four of us locked together. We were driven violently
apart and rolled over and over, and in the suddenness of surprise we
released our holds on one another. At the moment of the shock, Big-Face
screamed terribly. I did not know what had happened, though I smelled
tiger and caught a glimpse of striped fur as I sprang for a tree.
It was old Saber-Tooth. Aroused in his lair by the noise we had made, he
had crept upon us unnoticed. The Swift One gained the next tree to mine,
and I immediately joined her. I put my arms around her and held her close
to me while she whimpered and cried softly. From the ground came a
snarling, and crunching of bones. It was Saber-Tooth making his supper off
of what had been Big-Face. From beyond, with inflamed rims and eyes,
Red-Eye peered down. Here was a monster mightier than he. The Swift One
and I turned and went away quietly through the trees toward the cave,
while the Folk gathered overhead and showered down abuse and twigs and
branches upon their ancient enemy. He lashed his tail and snarled, but
went on eating.
And in such fashion were we saved. It was a mere accident—the
sheerest accident. Else would I have died, there in Red-Eye's clutch, and
there would have been no bridging of time to the tune of a thousand
centuries down to a progeny that reads newspapers and rides on electric
cars—ay, and that writes narratives of bygone happenings even as
this is written.
Links to Additional Media for Before Adam by Jack London such as audio and ebooks are located at the bottom of this web page.