pen space had of a sudden become
deserted. I sat down forlornly and whimpered. I could not understand.
Why had the Folk run away from me? In later time, when I came to know
their ways, I was to learn. When they saw me dashing out of the forest
at top speed they concluded that I was being pursued by some hunting
animal. By my unceremonious approach I had stampeded them.

As I sat and watched the cave-mouths I became aware that the Folk were
watching me. Soon they were thrusting their heads out. A little later
they were calling back and forth to one another. In the hurry and
confusion it had happened that all had not gained their own caves. Some
of the young ones had sought refuge in other caves. The mothers did
not call for them by name, because that was an invention we had not yet
made. All were nameless. The mothers uttered querulous, anxious cries,
which were recognized by the young ones. Thus, had my mother been there
calling to me, I should have recognized her voice amongst the voices of
a thousand mothers, and in the same way would she have recognized mine
amongst a thousand.

This calling back and forth continued for some time, but they were too
cautious to come out of their caves and descend to the ground. Finally
one did come. He was destined to play a large part in my life, and
for that matter he already played a large part in the lives of all the
members of the horde. He it was whom I shall call Red-Eye in the pages
of this history--so called because of his inflamed eyes, the lids
being always red, and, by the peculiar effect they produced, seeming to
advertise the terrible savagery of him. The color of his soul was red.

He was a monster in all ways. Physically he was a giant. He must have
weighed one hundred and seventy pounds. He was the largest one of our
kind I ever saw. Nor did I ever see one of the Fire People so large
as he, nor one of the Tree People. Sometimes, when in the newspapers
I happen upon descriptions of our modern bruisers and prizefighters, I
wonder what chance the best of them would have had against him.

I am afraid not much of a chance. With one grip of his iron fingers
and a pull, he could have plucked a muscle, say a biceps, by the roots,
clear out of their bodies. A back-handed, loose blow of his fist could
have smashed their skulls like egg-shells. With a sweep of his wicked
feet (or hind-hands) he could have disembowelled them. A twist could
have broken their necks, and I know t