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The Reign of Uya the Lion:
H.G. Wells:
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Stories of the Stone Age
4. The Reign of Uya the Lion
by
H.G. Wells
PGA e-Book Cover
Based on an image created with Microsoft Bing software
ILLUSTRATED BY COSMO ROWE (1877-1952)
First published in The Idler, August 1897,
in the series "Stories of the Stone Age"
This e-book edition: Project Gutenberg Australia, 2024
THE old lion was in luck. The tribe had
a certain pride in their ruler, but that was all the
satisfaction the got out of it. He came the very night that
Ugh-lomi killed Uya the Cunning, and so it was they named
him Uya. It was the old woman, the fire-minder, who first
named him Uya. A shower had lowered the fires to a glow,
and made the night dark. And as they conversed together,
and peered at one another in the darkness, and wondered
fearfully what Uya would do to them in their dreams now
that he was dead, they heard the mounting reverberations
of the lion's roar close at hand. Then everything was
still.
They held their breath, so that almost the only sounds
were the patter of the rain and the hiss of the raindrops
in the ashes. And then, after an interminable time, a
crash, and a shriek of fear, and a growling. They sprang
to their feet, shouting, screaming, running this way and
that, but brands would not burn, and in a minute the victim
was being dragged away through the ferns. It was Irk, the
brother of Wau. So the lion came.
The ferns were still wet from the rain the next night,
and he came and took Click with the red hair. That sufficed
for two nights. And then in the dark between the moons he
came three nights, night after night, and that though they
had good fires. He was an old lion with stumpy teeth, but
very silent and very cool; he knew of fires before; these
were not the first of mankind that had ministered to his
old age. The third night he came between the outer fire and
the inner, and he leapt the flint heap, and pulled down Irm
the son of Irk, who had seemed like to be the leader. That
was a dreadful night, because they lit great flares of fern
and ran screaming, and the lion missed his hold of Irm. By
the glare of the fire they saw Irm struggle up, and run a
little way towards them, and then the lion in two bounds
had him down again. That was the last of Irm.
That was the last of Irm.
So fear came, and all the delight of spring passed out
of their lives. Already there were five gone out of the
tribe, and four nights added three more to the number.
Food-seeking became spiritless, none knew who might go
next, and all day the women toiled, even the favourite
women, gathering litter and sticks for the night fires.
And the hunters hunted ill: in the warm spring-time hunger
came again as though it was still winter. The tribe might
have moved, had they had a leader, but they had no leader,
and none knew where to go that the lion could not follow
them. So the old lion waxed fat and thanked heaven for the
race of men. Two of the children and a youth died while
the moon was still new, and then it was the shrivelled old
fire-minder first bethought herself in a dream of Eudena
and Ugh-lomi, and of the way Uya, had been slain. She
had lived in fear of Uya all her days, and now she lived
in fear of the lion. That Ugh-lomi could kill Uya for
good—Ugh-lomi whom she had seen born-was impossible. It
was Uya still seeking his enemy!
And then came the strange return of Ugh-lomi, a
wonderful animal seen galloping far across the river, that
suddenly changed into two animals, a horse and a man.
Following this portent, the vision of Ugh-lomi on the
farther bank of the river...Yes, it was all plain to her.
Uya was punishing them, because they had not hunted down
Ugh-lomi and Eudena.
The men came straggling back to the chances of the
night while the sun was still golden in the sky. They
were received with the story of Ugh-lomi. She went across
the river with them and showed them his spoor hesitating
on the farther bank. Siss the Tracker knew the feet for
Ugh-lomi's. "Uya needs Ugh-lomi," cried the old woman,
standing on the left of the bend, a gesticulating figure
of flaring bronze in the sunset. Her cries were strange
sounds, flitting to and fro on the borderland of speech,
but this was the sense they carried: "The lion needs
Eudena. He comes night after night seeking Eudena and
Ugh-lomi. When he cannot find Eudena and Ugh-lomi, he grows
angry and he kills. Hunt Eudena and Ugh-lomi, Eudena whom
he pursued, and Ugh-lomi for whom he gave the death-word!
Hunt Eudena and Ugh-lomi!"
She turned to the distant reed-bed, as sometimes she had
turned to Uya in his life. "Is it not so, my lord?" she
cried. And, as if in answer, the tall reeds bowed before a
breath of wind.
Far into the twilight the sound of hacking was heard
from the squatting-places. It was the men sharpening their
ashen spears against the hunting of the morrow. And in the
night, early before the moon rose, the lion came and took
the girl of Siss the Tracker.
In the morning before the sun had risen, Siss the
Tracker, and the lad Wau-hau, who now chipped flints, and
One Eye, and Bo, and the snail-eater, the two red-haired
men, and Cat's-skin and Snake, all the men that were left
alive of the Sons of Uya, taking their ash spears and their
smiting-stones, and with throwing stones in the beast-paw
bags, started forth upon the trail of Ugh-lomi through
the hawthorn thickets where Yaaa the Rhinoceros and his
brothers were feeding, and up the bare downland towards the
beechwoods.
That night the fires burnt high and fierce, as the
waxing moon set, and the lion left the crouching women and
children in peace.
And the next day, while the sun was still high, the
hunters returned—all save One Eye, who lay dead with a
smashed skull at the foot of the ledge. (When Ugh-lomi came
back that evening from stalking the horses, he found the
vultures already busy over him.) And with them the hunters
brought Eudena bruised and wounded, but alive. That had
been the strange order of the shrivelled old woman, that
she was to be brought alive—"She is no kill for us. She
is for Uya the Lion." Her hands were tied with thongs,
as though she had been a man, and she came weary and
drooping—her hair over her eyes and matted with blood.
They walked about her, and ever and again the Snail-Eater,
whose name she had given, would laugh and strike her with
his ashen spear. And after he had struck her with his
spear, he would look over his shoulder like one who had
done an over-bold deed. The others, too, looked over their
shoulders ever and again, and all were in a hurry save
Eudena. When the old woman saw them coming, she cried aloud
with joy.
They made Eudena cross the river with her hands tied,
although the current was strong, and when she slipped the
old woman screamed, first with joy and then for fear she
might be drowned. And when they had dragged Eudena to
shore, she could not stand for a time, albeit they beat
her sore. So they let her sit with her feet touching the
water, and her eyes staring before her, and her face set,
whatever they might do or say. All the tribe came down to
the squatting-place, even curly little Haha, who as yet
could scarcely toddle, and stood staring at Eudena and the
old woman, as now we should stare at some strange wounded
beast and its captor.
The old woman tore off the necklace of Uya that was
about Eudena's neck, and put it on herself—she had been
the first to wear it. Then she tore at Eudena's hair, and
took a spear from Siss and beat her with all her might.
And when she had vented the warmth of her heart on the
girl she looked closely into her face. Eudena's eyes were
closed and her features were set, and she lay so still that
for a moment the old woman feared she was dead until her
nostrils quivered. At that the old woman slapped her face
and laughed and gave the spear to Siss again, and went a
little way off from her and began to talk and jeer at her
after her manner.
The old woman had more words than any in the tribe.
And her talk was a terrible thing to hear. Sometimes she
screamed and moaned incoherently, and sometimes the shape
of her guttural cries was the mere phantom of thoughts. But
she conveyed to Eudena, nevertheless, much of the things
that were yet to come, of the Lion and of the torment
he would do her. "And Ugh—lomi! Ha, ha! Ugh-lomi was
slain?"
And suddenly Eudena's eyes opened and she sat up again,
and her look met the old woman's fair and level. "No," she
said slowly, like one trying to remember, "I did not see my
Ugh-lomi slain. I did not see my Ugh-lomi slain."
"Tell her," cried the old woman. "Tell her—he that
killed him. Tell her how Ugh-lomi was slain."
She looked, and all the women and children there looked,
from man to man.
None answered her. They stood shamefaced.
"Tell her," said the old woman. The men looked at one
another.
Eudena's face suddenly lit.
"Tell her," she said. "Tell her mighty men! Tell her the
killing of Ugh-lomi."
The old woman rose and struck her sharply across her
mouth.
"We could not find Ugh-lomi," said Siss the Tracker,
slowly. "Who hunts two, kills none."
Then Eudena's heart leapt, but she kept her face hard.
It was well, for the old woman looked at her sharply, with
murder in her eyes.
Then the old woman turned her tongue upon the men
because they had feared to go on after Ugh-lomi. She
dreaded no one now Uya was slain. She scolded them as one
scolds children. And they scowled at her, and began to
accuse one another. Until suddenly Siss the Tracker raised
his voice and bade her hold her peace.
And so when the sun was setting they took Eudena and
went—though their hearts sank within them—along the
trail the old lion had made in the reeds. All the men went
together. At one place was a group of alders, and here they
hastily bound Eudena where the lion might find her when
he came abroad in the twilight, and having done so they
hurried back until they were near the squatting-place.
Then they stopped. Siss stopped first and looked back
again at the alders. They could see her head even from the
squatting-place, a little black shock under the limb of the
larger tree. That was as well.
All the women and children stood watching upon the crest
of the mound. And the old woman stood and screamed for the
lion to take her whom he sought, and counselled him on the
torments he might do her.
Eudena was very weary now, stunned by beatings and
fatigue and sorrow, and only the fear of the thing that was
still to come upheld her. The sun was broad and blood-red
between the stems of the distant chestnuts, and the west
was all on fire; the evening breeze had died to a warm
tranquillity. The air was full of midge swarms, the fish in
the river hard by would leap at times, and now and again a
cockchafer would drone through the air. Out of the corner
of her eye Eudena could see a part of the squatting-knoll,
and little figures standing and staring at her. And—a very
little sound but very clear—she could hear the beating of
the firestone. Dark and near to her and very still was the
reed-fringed thicket of the lair.
She began to weep silently, for this and the gorge was
all the life she had known, and life had been a pleasant
thing to her. Presently the firestone ceased. She looked
for the sun and found he had gone, and overhead and growing
brighter was the waxing moon. She looked towards the
thicket of the lair, seeking shapes in the reeds, and then
suddenly she began to wriggle and wriggle, weeping and
calling upon Ugh-lomi.
But Ugh-lomi was far away. When they saw her head moving
with her struggles, they shouted together on the knoll, and
then she desisted and was still. And then came the bats,
and the star that was like Ugh-lomi crept out of its blue
hiding-place in the west. She called to it, but softly,
because she feared the lion. And all through the coming of
the twilight the thicket was still.
So the dark crept upon Eudena, and the moon grew bright,
and the shadows of things that had fled up the hillside
and vanished with the evening came back to them short and
black, And the dark shapes in the thicket of reeds and
alders where the lion lay, gathered, and a faint stir began
there. But nothing came out therefrom all through the
gathering of the darkness.
She looked at the squatting-place and saw the fires
glowing smoky-red, and the men and women going to and fro.
The other way, over the river, a white mist was rising.
Then far away came the whimpering of young foxes and the
yell of a hyæna.
There were long gaps of aching waiting. After a long
time some animal splashed in the water, and seemed to cross
the river at the ford beyond the lair, but what animal it
was she could not see. From the distant drinking-pools
she could hear the sound of splashing, and the noise of
elephants—so still was the night.
The earth was now a colourless arrangement of white
reflections and impenetrable shadows, under the blue sky.
The silvery moon was already spotted with the filigree
crests of the chestnut woods, and over the shadowy eastward
bills the stars were multiplying. The knoll fires were
bright red now, and black figures stood waiting against
them. They were waiting for a scream...Surely it would be
soon.
The night suddenly seemed full of movement. She held
her breath. Things were passing—one, two, three—subtly
sneaking shadows...Jackals.
Then a long waiting again.
Then, asserting itself as real at once over all the
sounds her mind had imagined, came a stir in the thicket,
then a vigorous movement. There was a snap. The reeds
crashed heavily, once, twice, thrice, and then everything
was still save a measured swishing. She heard a low
tremulous growl, and then everything was still again.
The stillness lengthened—would it never end? She held
her breath; she bit her lips to stop screaming. Then
something scuttled through tile undergrowth. Her scream was
involuntary.
She did not hear the answering yell from the mound.
Immediately the thicket woke up to vigorous movement
again. She saw the grass stems waving in the light of
the setting moon, the alders swaying. She struggled
violently—her last struggle. But nothing came towards her.
A dozen monsters seemed rushing about in that little place
for a couple of minutes, and then again came silence. The
moon sank behind the distant chestnuts and the night was
dark.
Then an odd sound, a sobbing panting, that grew faster
and fainter. Yet another silence, and then dim sounds and
the grunting of some animal.
Everything was still again. Far away eastwards an
elephant trumpeted, and from the woods came a snarling and
yelping that died away.
In the long interval the moon shone out again, between
the stems of the trees on the ridge, sending two great bars
of light and a bar of darkness across the reedy waste. Then
came a steady rustling, a splash, and the reeds swayed
wider and wider apart. And at last they broke open, cleft
from root to crest...The end had come.
She looked to see the thing that had come out of the
reeds. For a moment it seemed certainly the great head and
jaw she expected, and then it dwindled and changed. It was
a dark low thing, that remained silent, but it was not the
lion. It became still—everything became still. She peered.
It was like some gigantic frog, two limbs and a slanting
body. Its head moved about searching the shadows...
A rustle, and it moved clumsily, with a sort of hopping.
And as it moved it gave a low groan.
The blood rushing through her veins was suddenly joy.
"Ugh-lomi!" she whispered.
The thing stopped. "Eudena," he answered softly with
pain in his voice, and peering into the alders.
He moved again, and came out of the shadow beyond the
reeds into the moonlight. All his body was covered with
dark smears. She saw he was dragging his legs, and that he
gripped his axe, the first axe, in one hand. In another
moment he had struggled into the position of all fours, and
had staggered over to her. "The lion," he said in a strange
mingling of exultation and anguish.﹃Wau!—I have slain a
lion. With my own hand. Even as I slew the great bear.﹄He
moved to emphasise his words, and suddenly broke off with a
faint cry. For a space he did not move.
For a space he did not move.
"Let me free," whispered Eudena...
He answered her no words but pulled himself up from his
crawling attitude by means of the alder stem, and hacked
at her thongs with the sharp edge of his axe. She heard
him sob at each blow. He cut away the thongs about her
chest and arms, and then his hand dropped. His chest struck
against her shoulder and he slipped down beside her and lay
still.
But the rest of her release was easy. Very hastily she
freed herself. She made one step from the tree, and her
head was spinning, Her last conscious movement was towards
him. She reeled, and suddenly fell headlong beside him. Her
hand fell upon his thigh. It was soft and wet, and gave way
under her pressure; he cried out at her touch, and writhed
and lay still again, with her hand upon him.
Presently a dark dog-like shape came very softly through
the reeds. This stopped dead and stood sniffing, hesitated,
and at last turned and slunk back into the shadows.
Long was the time they remained there motionless, with
the light of the setting moon shining on their limbs.
Very slowly, as slowly as the setting of the moon, did
the shadow of the reeds towards the mound flow over them.
Presently their legs were hidden, and Ugh-lomi was but
a bust of silver. The shadow crept to his neck, crept
over his face, and so at last the darkness of the night
swallowed them up.
The shadow became full of instinctive stirrings. There
was a patter of feet, and a faint snarling—the sound of a
blow.
There was little sleep that night for the women and
children at the squatting-place until they heard Eudena
scream. But the men were weary and sat dozing. When Eudena
screamed they felt assured of their safety, and hurried to
get the nearest places to the fires. The old woman laughed
at the scream, and laughed again because Si, the little
sister of Eudena, whimpered. Directly the dawn came they
were all alert and looking towards the alders. They could
see that Eudena had been taken. They could not help feeling
glad to think that Uya was appeased. But across the minds
of the men the thought of Ugh-lomi fell like a shadow. They
could understand revenge, for the world was old in revenge,
but they did not think of rescue. Suddenly a hyæna
fled out of the thicket, and came galloping across the
reed space. His muzzle and paws were dark-stained. At that
sight all the men shouted and clutched at throwing-stones
and ran towards him, for no animal is so pitiful a coward
as the hyæna by day. All men hated the hyæna
because he preyed on children, and would come and bite
when one was sleeping on the edge of the squatting-place.
And Cat's-skin, throwing fair and straight, hit the brute
shrewdly on the flank, whereat the whole tribe yelled with
delight.
At the noise they made there came a flapping of wings
from the lair of the lion, and three white-headed vultures
rose slowly and circled and came to rest amidst the
branches of an alder, overlooking the lair.﹃Our lord is
abroad,﹄said the old woman, pointing.﹃The vultures have
their share of Eudena.﹄For a space they remained there,
and then first one and then another dropped back into the
thicket.
Then over the eastern woods, and touching the whole
world to life and colour, poured, with the exaltation of a
trumpet blast, the light of the rising sun. At the sight of
him the children shouted together, and clapped their hands
and began to race off towards the water. Only little Si
lagged behind and looked wonderingly at the alders where
she had seen the head of Eudena overnight.
But Uya, the old lion, was not abroad but at home, and
he lay very still, and a little on one side. He was not in
his lair, but a little way from it in a place of trampled
grass. Under one eye was a little wound, the feeble little
bite of the first axe. But all the ground beneath his
chest was ruddy brown with a vivid streak, and in his
chest was a little hole that had been made by Ugh-lomi's
stabbing-spear. Along his side and at his neck the vultures
had marked their claims. For so Ugh-lomi had slain him,
lying stricken under his paw and thrusting haphazard at his
chest. He had driven the spear in with all his strength and
stabbed the giant to the heart. So it was the reign of the
lion, of the second incarnation of Uya the Master, came to
an end.
From the knoll the bustle of preparation grew, the
hacking of spears and throwing-stones. None spake the name
of Ugh-lomi for fear that it might bring him. The men were
going to keep together, close together, in the hunting for
a day or so. And, their hunting was to be Ugh-lomi, lest
instead he should come a-hunting them.
But Ugh-lomi was lying very still and silent, outside
the lion's lair, and Eudena squatted beside him, with the
ash spear, all smeared with lion's blood, gripped in her
hand.
THE END
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