Younger
World, occurred with me within the space of several minutes, or seconds.

It was all a jumble, but this jumble I shall not inflict upon you. It
was not until I was a young man and had dreamed many thousand times,
that everything straightened out and became clear and plain. Then it was
that I got the clew of time, and was able to piece together events
and actions in their proper order. Thus was I able to reconstruct the
vanished Younger World as it was at the time I lived in it--or at the
time my other-self lived in it. The distinction does not matter; for
I, too, the modern man, have gone back and lived that early life in the
company of my other-self.

For your convenience, since this is to be no sociological screed, I
shall frame together the different events into a comprehensive story.
For there is a certain thread of continuity and happening that runs
through all the dreams. There is my friendship with Lop-Ear, for
instance. Also, there is the enmity of Red-Eye, and the love of the
Swift One. Taking it all in all, a fairly coherent and interesting story
I am sure you will agree.

I do not remember much of my mother. Possibly the earliest recollection
I have of her--and certainly the sharpest--is the following: It seemed I
was lying on the ground. I was somewhat older than during the nest days,
but still helpless. I rolled about in the dry leaves, playing with them
and making crooning, rasping noises in my throat. The sun shone warmly
and I was happy, and comfortable. I was in a little open space. Around
me, on all sides, were bushes and fern-like growths, and overhead and
all about were the trunks and branches of forest trees.

Suddenly I heard a sound. I sat upright and listened. I made no
movement. The little noises died down in my throat, and I sat as one
petrified. The sound drew closer. It was like the grunt of a pig. Then
I began to hear the sounds caused by the moving of a body through the
brush. Next I saw the ferns agitated by the passage of the body. Then
the ferns parted, and I saw gleaming eyes, a long snout, and white
tusks.

It was a wild boar. He peered at me curiously. He grunted once or twice
and shifted his weight from one foreleg to the other, at the same time
moving his head from side to side and swaying the ferns. Still I sat as
one petrified, my eyes unblinking as I stared at him, fear eating at my
heart.

It seemed that this movelessness and silence on my part was what was
expec