Littlenose Collection The Magician

by John Grant

  Their hopes were raised when late in the afternoon Two-Eyes came wandering along, for usually when he arrived Littlenose was not far behind. But when night fell there was still no sign of Littlenose.

  Suddenly, the silence was broken by a voice shouting, “Hi! Come and help me, somebody!”

  The tribe poured out of their caves, wondering what all the fuss was about.

  A small figure, dripping wet and covered with mud and fish scales, was dragging something heavy along the river bank.

  “Littlenose!” they all screamed. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick. You’re a wicked inconsiderate boy, with no thought for others. You ought to be thoroughly ashamed.” They calmed down a bit when they saw the huge salmon, but went off muttering about modern youth.

  Mum cried a little. Then she washed Littlenose and tucked him up in bed.

  Dad carried the salmon into the cave, and, do you know, by the end of the week Littlenose didn’t like salmon any more!

  Littlenose’s Holiday

  Littlenose was bored. He scuffed the sandy floor of the cave with his feet. He sighed and picked up a twig and started to whittle it, then threw it into the fire and sighed again.

  “For goodness’ sake, stop fidgeting,” said Mum. “Go out and play. It’s a beautiful day.”

  “I’ve nothing to play at,” said Littlenose.

  “Play with Two-Eyes,” said Mum.

  “He doesn’t want to play. He just wants to sleep,” said Littlenose.

  “Well, go out and play by yourself,” said Mum impatiently. “In fact, just go before you drive me completely mad!”

  Wearily, Littlenose rose and dragged himself out into the sunshine. What could he do? Climb a tree? Climb one, he thought, and you’ve climbed the lot. Paddle in the stream? Last time he had fallen in and had been scolded for getting his furs wet. Idly, he picked up a broad grass blade, held it flat between his thumbs, and blew. It made a squeaking noise. Littlenose brightened up. He picked a better grass blade and blew harder, then again and again. His boredom forgotten, Littlenose took an enormous breath and blew with all his might, making a wild shriek that was pure joy to his ears.

  Next moment he was knocked sideways by a hard cuff on the side of the head. Dad stood over him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted. “Disturbing the whole neighbourhood like that!

  Dad took Littlenose by the ear and marched him away from the caves. “If you must make that ghastly noise,” he said, “at least make it where we can’t hear it.” Then he went back to apologise to the neighbours.

  Littlenose dropped the blade of grass. There didn’t seem much point in it now. Anyway, he might as well do something useful, like practising fire lighting.

  He collected a handful of twigs and dry leaves, and after only three attempts managed to catch a spark on one of the leaves. The fire soon crackled briskly, and Littlenose glowed with satisfaction.

  Now he thought he would try something more difficult. When hunters were troubled by flies and midges in their camp they made a smudge, a very smoky fire which drove insects away. The trick was to put green stuff onto a fire without actually putting it out.

  Littlenose piled on handfuls of grass and the smoke began to get thicker. Soon it was coiling in dense wreaths. He kept adding more greenery, and from time to time he knelt and blew into the heart of the fire just as he had seen the hunters doing. Soon it was lunch time and Littlenose decided to hurry home before he got into more trouble.

  Mum was very relieved when Littlenose arrived, smelling a bit smoky, but smiling. They were just finishing their meal when there was a cough, and one of their neighbours appeared. He shuffled his feet, cleared his throat and said, “I don’t want to complain, but could I have a word with you for a moment?”

  Dad nodded, and the man came in, followed by his wife.

  “It’s like this,” said the man. “The wife, here, washed her best white fur wrap and hung it on a bush to dry, and it seems that your boy, there, was lighting fires or something. Anyway, he was making a lot of smoke and, well, have a look for yourselves.”

  The woman held out a grey, grubby piece of fur. It was spotted with what seemed to be soot, and couldn’t have looked less like a best white fur wrap. Moments later, Littlenose was in bed in disgrace, Mum was offering to re-wash the fur wrap, and Dad was vowing to feed his son to the first black bear that snuck its nose out of the forest.

  Before going to bed that night, Dad was in despair. “I wish I knew what to do with Littlenose,” he said. “He’s more trouble than a whole herd of woolly rhinoceros.”

  “I thought you were going to feed him to a black bear,” said Mum.

  “Attractive as the idea is,” said Dad, “it is illegal.”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” said Mum.

  Next morning at breakfast there was suddenly a cheery shout from outside. Littlenose brightened up immediately. “That’s Uncle Redhead,” he cried.

  Sure enough, the stocky figure of his uncle could be seen coming up the path. He waved. “Any breakfast left?” he shouted.

  “If you hurry,” called back Littlenose, as Mum hurried out to greet her brother. Dad didn’t come out.

  After Uncle Redhead had eaten, he said, “I really came here to ask you a favour.”

  Father looked at him carefully and said, “Mm.”

  “It’s like this,” said Uncle Redhead, “I’ve some business to take care of here, and I could do with help. A sort of camp boy to fetch and carry, and to light the fire. Do you think that Littlenose could be spared for a couple of weeks?”

  Dad leapt up and shouted with delight: “Two weeks? You can have him for two months if you want.”

  When Littlenose heard that he was to go with Uncle at first he was too thrilled to speak. Then he hugged his uncle and demanded, “When do we go?”

  Littlenose and Uncle Redhead left in the early afternoon, and by sunset were far from home. Littlenose was busy lighting a fire under a big tree, and Uncle Redhead had gone off to catch some fish for supper. Soon four fish were grilling over the flames.

  When they were eaten, to Littlenose’s delight, Uncle Redhead brought out from his pack two pieces of honeycomb dripping with honey.

  Littlenose had never had so much honey at one time before. He sat munching before the fire while his uncle told marvellous tales of the strange places he had visited and exciting things he had done. Littlenose hoped they were going to do something exciting on this journey.

  Soon it was time for bed, and after building up the fire to keep away wild animals, they settled down for the night. For a while Littlenose lay awake and wondered what they would do in the morning. What did happen came as a shock.

  He was wakened by shouting. “Wakey, Wakey! Rise and shine! Show a leg! The sun’s burning your eyeballs!”

  Littlenose opened one eye. The sun was barely over the horizon, and the air felt chill. He snuggled down under his fur covers, but they were pulled off by Uncle Redhead.

  “Come on now, time’s a-wasting. Follow me,” he shouted, and ran off at a rapid jog-trot. Littlenose got up and followed. He was soon out of breath and had a stitch in his side. Then, to Littlenose’s relief, Uncle Redhead stopped and waved him on. They were beside a broad stream.

  With a cry of “Last one in’s a woolly mammoth!” Uncle Redhead threw off his furs and leapt into the icy water. Littlenose was horrified. He stared as his uncle splashed about calling, “Come on in, the water’s lovely!” Slowly, Littlenose took off his furs and stood on the edge, goose-pimply and shivering. He stuck one foot timidly into the water. With a shout of glee, Uncle Redhead grabbed his ankle.

  Next moment Littlenose was gasping and spluttering in the icy stream. He made for the bank, missed his footing, and fell headlong.

  “That’s the stuff,” said Uncle Redhead. “Get the water right over you. Enjoy yourself! I always look forward to my morning dip.”

  All Littlenose was looking forward to wa
s getting out of the freezing water.

  Littlenose felt warmer, if completely breathless, by the time he had run to camp. Uncle Redhead was already cleaning some fish. “Hurry up with the fire, Littlenose,” he said, and Littlenose blew the smouldering ashes into a flame. The fish were quickly cooked and eaten, and afterwards Uncle Redhead again gave him a huge piece of honeycomb. Fed and dry and glowing all over, Littlenose thought that perhaps life with Uncle Redhead wasn’t too bad after all. He stretched out beside the fire, feeling pleasantly drowsy. But not for long.

  “Mustn’t hang around,” said Uncle Redhead, kicking sand onto the fire to smother it. “There’s work to be done.” Before Littlenose realised what was happening they were on their journey again.

  Uncle Redhead walked with long strides which made it difficult for Littlenose to keep up. He hummed and whistled as he went, and from time to time burst into song. Or else he started long conversations. But Littlenose was too breathless to do more than whisper the occasional reply. They stopped briefly at noon for a quick snack of fruit and honeycomb. Littlenose was too tired to ask where they were going. He just trudged behind his uncle, who laughed and sang as merrily as ever, and never seemed to get tired at all.

  At long last they stopped. They were on the shores of a small lake, and made their camp by a clump of pine trees. Littlenose flopped wearily to the ground. But it was his job to make the fire.

  By the time that the fire was burning up, Uncle Redhead had come back with two fat rabbits. Quickly he cut them up and set them to roast over the flames. Littlenose ate his share with relish. He sat back, full, and his uncle grinned and said, “Now here’s the bit you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?” And he handed Littlenose a piece of honeycomb. Littlenose groaned. He thought he would burst, but somehow he managed to chew and swallow the sweet, crunchy wax.

  That night again Uncle Redhead laughed and chuckled his way through the same old stories, occasionally breaking into song. Littlenose just wanted to sleep. He began to think how nice it would be if his uncle would only be quiet for a while! At long last he said goodnight and pulled the covers over himself. Thankfully, Littlenose settled down to sleep too, without much success. Uncle Redhead even talked in his sleep. He muttered to himself, and from time to time let out a guffaw of laughter.

  Yet that was not the only thing keeping Littlenose awake. He remembered the dip in the icy stream, and dreaded the morning. There seemed no way of getting out of it, and at last he fell asleep determined to show Uncle Redhead that he was tough too.

  It seemed only a moment later that he heard: “Wakey! Wakey! Rise and shine!”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Littlenose was out of bed. Down the beach he ran, off came his furs and he hurled himself into the lake. He landed with a thump. The water was only a few inches deep and the bottom was black, smelly, mud!

  Littlenose sat among the slime, while Uncle Redhead roared with laughter. “If I’d known you were so keen on bathing I’d have warned you about the lake,” he roared. “Never mind. Get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll get breakfast ready.”

  After much painful scrubbing with handfuls of grass, Littlenose was rid of the mud, although he still smelt a bit. He cheered up until Uncle Redhead produced the honeycomb and broke off a generous piece for him. “Good, eh?” he said as Littlenose forced himself to eat it. “Now you’ll feel better.”

  Littlenose felt slightly sick.

  The journey continued for the next few days, and Littlenose gradually learned to ignore his uncle’s chatter. To his relief none of their overnight camps was near a suitable bathing place. But the supply of honey seemed endless, and Littlenose wondered how he could ever possibly have liked it.

  It was exactly a week after leaving home that Uncle Redhead said, “Early to bed tonight. We’ve work to do tomorrow.” What the work was he wouldn’t say, but in the morning Littlenose was set to making a parcel of the flints which Uncle Redhead carried in his pack. Even Littlenose could see that these were the very best, top-quality flints, which were always difficult to come by.

  After they left camp, they headed for a patch of forest. Then they paused on the edge of a clearing, and Littlenose’s hair stood on end with fright. In front of them was a camp. It was quiet, and everyone seemed asleep. But it was not a Neanderthal camp. From the skin shelters slung between the trees, Littlenose knew that this was the camp of a tribe of Straightnoses. He was terrified, but Uncle Redhead led him around the edge of the clearing to a huge tree. Part way up the trunk was a hole, like an owl’s nesting hole. Uncle Redhead reached into the hole and took out a small pouch. He replaced the pouch with the parcel of flints. Then, with a careful look around, he led the way back to their own camp.

  Littlenose was still shaking with fright as they packed for the long journey home. But Uncle Redhead was as cheery as ever. “It’s a good season,” he said, as he looked at the coloured pebbles in the pouch. “These people really know a good flint when they see one. I’m thinking of retiring soon.”

  “But that was a Straightnose camp!” said Littlenose.

  “Of course,” said his uncle. “They’re good customers. Some of my best friends are Straightnoses. But they’re a bit shy of us. They think the Neanderthal folk are dangerous.”

  Littlenose could make nothing of all this. He felt they were lucky to have escaped in one piece.

  The return journey was as bad as that coming. They marched for miles every day, most mornings started with a cold bath, and Uncle Redhead never stopped talking. There was honeycomb every day, and before they reached home Littlenose had toothache.

  Two-Eyes trumpeted with joy when he saw Littlenose, and Mum cried and kissed him. Dad wasn’t sure whether he was pleased or not.

  As for Littlenose, he was so glad to be home that he wasn’t bored again.

  For almost a week, at least.

  Bigfoot

  One day, Dad told Littlenose that they were all going to spend a holiday with some of their relatives. Littlenose didn’t want to go. And said so.

  “You’ll do as you’re told for once,” said Dad, “and like it.”

  “All right,” said Littlenose, adding under his breath, “but I won’t like it.”

  The real trouble was that even Dad didn’t think much of his sister’s family whom they would be visiting. Most Neanderthal folk lived in tribes who made their homes in caves. During the Ice Age, life was very hard indeed, and neighbours who could help each other in times of trouble were essential. With water being drawn from the river, firewood being chopped, flints being chipped and all the bustle and activity of a Neanderthal living place going on from dawn to dusk, life was hectic. Which was how people liked it. Most of them, that is. For there were families who lived in remote places far from their nearest neighbours.

  That was how Littlenose’s Uncle Juniper and his family lived. Littlenose had never met them but he knew that their home was far away in the mountains where the juniper bushes grew. Juniper berries were prized as medicine by the Neanderthal doctors, and every autumn the people of the mountains brought the season’s fruit down to market. Littlenose’s uncle was one of the best known, which accounted for his name. This much Littlenose had been told, but he had heard much more while lying awake at night listening to Mum and Dad talking.

  “How can anyone live like that?” said Dad. “They do nothing. They see nothing. A crowd of yokels. Hill-billies. You can’t even get decent conversation out of them. When I met Juniper at the market last week he hardly said a word from first to last.”

  “He probably couldn’t get a word in edgeways,” said Mum. “And he did say enough to invite us all to stay. In any case, if you don’t like them why did you accept?”

  “I wasn’t thinking,” groaned Dad. “I thought they only wanted Littlenose.”

  Next morning, after breakfast, Mum began the task of sorting out what they would need on holiday. Littlenose laid out his spear, his fire-making flints and his lucky coloured stone, and said, “I’m ready.”
But to his disgust Mum made him pack several pairs of clean furs as well. Looking at the mound of baggage, Dad said, “I think we might have been quicker just wrapping up the whole cave. We are only going to be away for three weeks, not the rest of our lives.”

  It was just getting light when they loaded Two-Eyes and set off next day. Uncle Juniper’s home was one week’s march due east of their own cave, and Dad explained that if they walked with the rising sun in their faces and camped at evening with the setting sun at their backs they couldn’t go wrong.

  On the second day out, Dad decided that they weren’t travelling fast enough and had better break camp much earlier the following day. He roused everyone while it was still pitch dark, and set off. As they stumbled through the gloom, Mum said, “You’re quite sure we’re going the right way?”

  “Am I in the habit of making mistakes?” said Dad.

  Mum just sniffed, while Littlenose nodded silently.

  Then the sun rose . . . far to the left.

  Dad stopped and muttered something which nobody could make out, but which seemed to imply that the sun was in the wrong place. But they changed direction, and went on their way.

  On the fourth day Dad said, “We’ll soon meet Uncle Juniper. When we stop tomorrow evening the sun should set exactly between two peaks. We have to wait at the pass between the peaks for Juniper to guide us the rest of the way.”

  Next evening as they made camp Littlenose watched the rim of the setting sun slip down between two sharp mountain tops. Before the light had completely gone Dad scratched a mark on the ground like a spear pointing towards the pass where tomorrow they hoped to find Uncle Juniper.

  In fact Uncle Juniper found them next morning as they rested by a clear spring, and they arrived at the Juniper family cave before dusk.