The Thinking Rocks

by Butkus, C. Allan

  Dola looked uncertain, "I don't see how caring about the little wolf can have anything to do with the marks in the sand. Why do you think they are important? Are they magic?"

  Gennos answered quickly, it was apparent that he was excited; “These marks aren't magic. They are much more important than magic." He stopped for a moment before continuing. "Magic is something we don't understand. If something happens and we don't understand it, we can say that it happened like magic. If something happens and we know why it happened, then we don't say it was magic. We know why it happened. The magic is not there. We say Magic when we don't understand. These marks aren't magic, they are a story. The dead man made the marks and we know what he wanted us to know. This is important. These marks let us know what a dead man knew. This is more important than magic. It is easy to say what we don't know is magic. It’s much more difficult and important to say what we do know. These marks let us know something that a dead man knew."

  "I hear what you are saying, but I don't understand. Why are these marks so important? I can't eat them. They won't keep me warm at night. They won't help me if Lomasi comes again."

  "You are right; these marks aren't powerful enough to help you with these problems. They have a different kind of power, I don't understand it yet, but I feel that as we learn about it, we will understand the power it does have better." Gennos turned to Cano, "Tell me about the other marks."

  "These marks look like an animal to me," he said indicating another figure on the ground, "and these marks are like spears stuck in it." He moved his hand across the drawing until he came to another mark. "It seems to me that the ‘spears’ came from here." He looked up at the faces of the small group. "This mark looks like the one of the dead man, except his leg isn't broken."

  Gennos said, "I think you are right, but I think there is a problem. The spears do seem to go from the man to the animal, but look at the mark for the man. Look at the way he holds the spear thrower. He has one arm out in front of him and the other is behind his head. How could he throw anything like that? And look, he is also holding the spear thrower in the middle and with the wrong hand. How could he use it like that?"

  Cano shook his head, "I don't know." He thought for a few moments before continuing. "There was another thing in the cave that I didn't bring; I didn't think that it was important." He paused again, "It was like a short heavy spear with no point. It was bent and had rawhide strings on each end. It was about this long," he measured a distance with his hands. "I didn't think it was important, I thought he might have used it to carry the short spears."

  "Did the rawhide go from one end of the wood to the other end?” asked Gennos.

  "No" Cano answered. The rawhide was old and broken; it was only on the ends of the bent piece of wood. He hesitated, and then said, "Maybe it did, and the rawhide fell apart when I touched it. I really couldn't tell."

  Gennos nodded and then went back to the drawings in the sand. He was looking at another part of Cano's drawing. It was a large long marking with a series of things along the top.

  As Na’pe moved to the side, she avoided touching him so that he would be able to answer. "What do you think it is?"

  He kept studying the marks without looking up. "I don't know. Any ideas Cano?"

  "None at all. The things on top are the same as on the wall in the cave. There were a lot of marks so I put a finger on each mark and then did the same here. They are the same, but I don't know what they mean." He paused and then said, "I forgot something." He quickly made some more marks by the long thing. The marks were similar to the snake marks, except that the snake marks went in all different directions. These marks all went the same way as the long mark, but they were all around the bottom of it. There, does that help any?"

  Gennos kept examining the drawing, "Maybe snakes again, under something long?"

  They all quietly studied the marks until Dola spoke. “I’m probably wrong, but this reminds me of something. When I reached the river, I didn't know how I was going to get across. I was trying to think of a way when I saw a turtle floating by on a log. I thought if he can do it so could I. I found a log and held on as I floated across. What I think is that those marks on the long thing are sort of like turtles on a log," He paused and then said "and maybe the ‘snakes’ aren't snakes. They could mean water." He stood quietly; everyone was looking at him.

  Na'pe was the first to speak, "I think he's right, the long thing could be a dugout. The things on top are like the head on the dead man. The marks below could mean water."

  Cano looked to his brother. Gennos said, "This gets better and better. Na'pe, I think you and Dola are right. This big thing could be a dugout, a big dugout that could hold many men. They were hunters traveling on the river. One was injured and died when he broke his leg." He stopped and looked around the group. "These marks are a story of what happened."

  Cano looked to his brother and said, "I thought that you would be interested in the marks, but you seem really excited by them.”

  Gennos answered quickly, "You are right, I am excited. I don't know exactly why, but deep down inside me, I know that this is important. I don't know how or where this will be used, but I know it will be used”. He paused and then said, "We think we know a story told by a dead man. This means that we could make marks and someone else could see them and understand what we did without ever talking to us."

  Dola said, "Is that good? If we left marks that showed we went down the river in dugouts, that might be bad. What if Lomasi found them and understood them? He would know where we are going and how. Besides that, will these marks feed us or say where it is safe?"

  Gennos replied, "You are right. These marks aren't going to solve our problems, but they may help. I'm not sure how, but I am sure that they are important. Different things are important in different ways. Try to think of it this way. Lomasi had a spear thrower and we didn't. He could kill us with it. It is better than our spears in most ways. The problem is that the spear thrower doesn't solve all problems. It makes it easier to do some things, but creates other problems. It is more difficult to use than a spear, and it takes more room to throw its short spear. You have to have extra spears to throw. These things are problems with a spear thrower, but it is still usually better than a spear. We find new ways of doing things. We have the Canohawk. It is better than the hand ax. The spear thrower is better than the spear. But, we couldn't have the spear thrower without the spear; we couldn't have the Canohawk without the hand ax. We don't know what we will have next. One thing leads to another. If we understand how something works that is important, because we know more than we did before. We think we know a dead man's story. How this will help us later I'm not sure, but I do know it's important."

  Gennos looked around at the small group. The only one that wasn't paying any attention was Whiteface. She was asleep near Dola. "Enough of me talking. I think Whiteface has the right idea. Let us sleep. We should start when the sun rises.

  They each found a place to sleep; Gennos was the closest one to Na'pe. Dola caught Cano's eye and nodded his head toward Gennos and Na'pe. Cano nodded back and smiled. They all slept well and had the dugouts moving downstream as the sun started to bring first light to the day

  Pursuit

  Early in the morning days later, Lomasi and Morf floated up to the small island where the escapees had camped. Their raft was small and ill constructed; it was loosely tied with vines and was barely able to hold their combined weight. They were constantly wet and had a difficult time keeping their weapons dry and still control the raft. Their feet and legs were in constant contact with the water and Lomasi’s leg wound was infected and seeping yellow liquid. They hadn't eaten or slept in days and the fasting hadn't improved Lomasi's attitude. Lomasi ordered Morf to beach the raft.

  As he attempted to beach the raft, Morf decided that when he got a good chance to escape he would leave Lomasi. He would try to return to his clan. He had hoped that he would return with prisoners and honor. All that t
hey had found so far was death; both Lork and Hopi were gone. There was nothing to show for all their effort. He could see now that Lomasi would give up anything he had to get the prisoners back, even both of their lives. He knew if he continued to follow him, he would be the next to die. The chase was futile. He would have to be careful, he didn't want Lomasi's wrath to be directed at him. Escape had to be well thought out or the result would be the same as staying with Lomasi. Death.

  As the raft slid into the shallow water near shore, Morf was surprised to hear Lomasi say, "We will camp here, we need food and rest. See if you can get any fish or frogs, anything we can eat. I will go and see if I can find meat for us.” With that said he took his spear thrower and limped off into the brush.

  The hunting and fishing yielded only a frog and some clams from the river, Lomasi returned empty handed. The food didn't matter; they were both so tired that after they had eaten they collapsed in exhaustion. They slept through the day and awoke that night. Lomasi scraped the pus from his leg and wrapped the wound with leaves and rawhide. They went back to sleep after eating the last of the food they had been able to gather.

  In the morning Lomasi had Morf make a fire and then gather shafts to make more spears for their throwers. Lomasi was able to find some shells and after breaking them into points, he used mud and long strands of grass to hold the points in place. He then placed them near the fire to harden the mud. They each practiced throwing some of the spears until they were comfortable with the range and accuracy. The points were only good for one throw, so they kept the best of the lot for future use. In the process of retrieving the spears Morf was able to kill several frogs, which they ate before pushing off down stream

  .

  Turtles and Birds

  The next few days were an enjoyable experience for Cano's small group of refugees. The weather was clear and hot, they had rain only one day. The landscape slowly changed as they moved down the river, the mountains gave way to rolling hills and then to flat lands and then to marsh. The river had some rapids initially, but they soon gave way to deeper water. There was a fairly strong current and it wasn't difficult to navigate the river. They saw many animals along the banks of the river in the early mornings, but later in the day there were fewer. The animals didn't seem to be afraid of them as they floated by, but they would flee if a quick movement were made, or if the dugouts got too close. Deer were the most numerous, but there seemed to be more than one kind of deer. There were some that were huge; they would feed the tiny band for many days if they had been able to bring one down. These had great racks of antlers; they were so big that a man couldn't reach from one side to the other. Their coloring was also different than the smaller deer; they had a patch of light colored hair on their behind, whereas the little deer only had a white tail. Other food was readily available and the small group was eating well on fish, eggs and frogs.

  They hadn't had the chance to make more spears for the spear throwers and were reluctant to use the only spears they had for a possible kill. They would have to learn how to use them before they could rely on them.

  As they floated around a bend in the river, Cano noticed movement. He signaled for quiet, and then remained motionless with his paddle trailing in the water. As they drifted closer he saw that it was a saber-tooth cat eating a large deer. It was one of the deer with the white behind. Instinctively the dugouts steered away from that shore. As they passed, the big cat rose and watched them as they drifted by. Although the cat didn't open its mouth, a deep rumbling could be felt, more than it could be heard. The message was clear, stay away.

  The cat was a fearful sight; blood dripped from its fangs and the hair on its muzzle and chest was matted with it. Although it stood still, it appeared to be ready to dash across the water and attack the dugouts. Its short tail twitched from side to side. The muscles in its shoulders rippled and then the big cat shifted its position on the muddy bank. Its eyes moved from dugout to dugout.

  In the lead dugout Dola was terrified. He looked down to see what Whiteface was doing. The small wolf was as low as she could get and still be able to see. Her gaze was locked on the big cat, her teeth were bared, but no sound escaped from her. Some instinct told her to remain silent.

  The confrontation was over as silently as it had begun. When the last dugout with Gennos and Na'pe had floated by, the big cat returned to its feast.

  They were all relieved when the river flowed around a bend and the cat was out of sight. They floated along in silence until Cano said, "I know where there is a dead deer; anyone want to go back and ask if we can have some?"

  No one replied, they were all sure that the cat didn't want to share.

  Later, as the sun was still high, Cano suggested that they camp early and search for food. They were all tired and hungry and welcomed the rest. The shores were marshy and only held occasional bunches of trees. After beaching the dugouts, they started to set up camp. Na'pe gathered wood and started a fire, Gennos stayed close and fished in the river. Cano fashioned an old style spear from a small sapling, the shaft was about the same size as his thumb and was as tall as he was. Next, he tied one of the little black spearheads to it to form the point. The spear felt good and he felt good too. He hefted the weapon and felt for its balance point. This was a good weapon and it had its uses. Next, he fashioned a long handled Canohawk using his new black cutting stone. When he had finished, he carefully tucked it into the carrying strap around his waist and then retrieved his spear and moved off in search of game.

  Moving quietly, he headed downstream. As he proceeded through the tall grass along the bank of the river, he thought about the spear-thrower. We must learn to use it. We will need many short spears and then we can practice with them. The spear-thrower was a superior weapon in many ways to the spear. It would change the way they hunted. They could kill at a greater distance, and they would be safer from attack by the dangerous animals. They could have more food. We will be able to protect the clan better. Then a dark thought raised its ugly head. People like Lomasi have the spear-thrower already, and how do they use it? Against people of other clans. With all the ways there are for us to die, why must our own kind also kill us? It's hard enough to stay alive as it is, without fearing our own kind, he thought. The fault isn't with the weapon; it's only a tool, like the hand ax. It would be foolish to blame a rock for our problems, but if it were used to kill one of us, some would say that the rock, and not the person that struck with the rock killed them. The rock could be used to help us live or to take life.

  A movement from up ahead in the tall grass interrupted his thoughts. He saw something strange and he wasn't sure what it was. It looked like a pile of sharp rocks with an ugly looking snake crawling out of it. Cano stopped moving and watched. It also stopped moving, and he saw that it wasn't a snake at all. It looked like a short fat gator. Then he realized that it wasn't a gator at all, but a large turtle. What looked like rocks was actually the shell of the turtle, and the snake was its head. The head was huge; it was at least as big as my upper leg, Cano thought. It had a pointed bony-looking mouth; it had its eyes on the side of its head. A hunter, Cano thought. It was the strangest turtle that he had ever seen. It was the size of a small boulder, and its shell was brownish and sharp looking. It looked mean and fast. The shell was as long as Cano's legs and it was as high as his knees. Its feet were wide and had long claws, and it had a heavy looking tail. The turtle looked as though it would be able to move very quickly in the water.

  After the first movement, it had remained still. It looked as though it was sunning itself. Its neck was stretched out and its eyes were closed. The neck stretched out more than half the length of the shell. Its mouth was open. Cano had a sudden thought, it wasn't sunning itself, and it was hiding in plain sight. It looked like something other than what it was. This was a dangerous creature.

  Cano's thoughts flew back to the day he had pretended to be a bush on the mammoth hunt. It seemed so long ago, almost in another life. He thought of
Ceola and how she had held him when she found out he wasn't dead. But this was not the time to be thinking of her, he had other things to do now.

  As Cano stood silently watching the turtle he saw a flicker of movement and then a long legged bird landed near the turtle. He saw the eyes of the turtle open, and ever so slowly the head retracted in the shell until only the nose and eyes were visible. The mouth stayed open. Other than this, the turtle hadn't moved.

  The bird looked into the shallow water where it stood. It moved its head quickly and struck into the water. It retrieved a small fish and swallowed it headfirst. The bird took a few short steps and then paused and struck again. It didn't retrieve a fish this time. It moved forward again and was close to the turtle.

  The turtle struck with the speed of a snake. It caught the bird's neck just below the head, and then jerked its head back into its shell. Cano was close enough so that he could hear the bones in the birds neck crack. It tried to squawk but the effort was futile. It flapped its wings and clawed with its feet, but to no avail. The turtle was too large for it to break free. It was dead before it realized that it was in harms way. The body thrashed, splashing water and mud onto the turtle, until finally it became still. The turtle remained motionless for a few more moments before turning and dragging the lifeless body to drier ground. Soon it was tearing the bird to pieces and swallowing chunks of bloody meat.

  Cano wasn't sure if he should or could kill the turtle. It was big and heavy; it would be difficult to get it back to camp. It was also a lot of meat; they wouldn't have to hunt for days if he was able to kill it. His mind made up, he silently moved up behind it; walking slowly and softly. The turtle was eating and paid no attention to him. When he was close enough, he struck with the spear. It was a strong thrust and sank deep into the turtle's neck. Unfortunately, it wasn't a killing blow. The turtle was hurt, but not mortally, and it spun around and struck at him. Cano's spear was still embedded in the neck and this caused the turtle's strike to miss. Cano was amazed at how far out of the shell the head could reach, it almost got him in the leg. He jumped back and at the same time jerked the spear out and then drove it down, again the point cut deeply into the flesh of the neck. The turtle seemed unaffected by the wounds; it scrambled toward him hissing and snapping it jaws. With each of its strikes it raised its front legs off the ground and lunged at him using its back legs to drive it forward. There was no fear in the creature. It was intent upon getting to him, and Cano had to scramble back to keep from getting bit. The air filled with a foul smell, it was so bad that it made his eyes water. Blinking his eyes franticly, he lunged again at the turtle's head with his spear. In a hissing movement it twisted its head and it snapped at his spear. It was able to take a chunk of wood from the green shaft. He struck at the turtle again, but hit the tough shell and his spear only slid off, leaving a long mark. The turtle lunged at him and he had to retreat again.