HERITAGE

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 851, 20 December 1929, Page 1 (Supplement)

HERITAGE

(first prize>

By

JOHN K. JAMESON

HMC.OON, primitive man, hungry, dazed with exhaustion, crouched at the base of a towering shaft of basalt, /or the space of the shaft's longest shadow, until it dwindled into nothingness, he had fought with the grey beast of the marsh. Now he was faint and weary, yearning for food, comfort as he. knew it, and his mate. His world was awry The snug cave in the black cliff behind the great shaft was empty except for a few bones, gnawed bare. In the darkening sky a rain-cloud, vast, threatening, spat sudden' vicious drops upon his hairy pelt. The gloom of approaching night swept across his lonely soul. He threw back his head and keened his misery loud and long, his brutish face working in convulsive spasms. Down on the wide plain the beasts of the marsh bellowed and trumpeted, while the turbulent rain-storm spewed forth a torrent of fierce water. Slowly the heavy head drooped on the massive shoulders, the wailing ebbed to chesty sobs. The bloodspattered club slipped from his hand and Nmgoon „ relaxed Into sleep. , As he slept Nmgoon dreamed. Perhaps not a dream, 'for the wavering thought-processes of that barely convoluted brain could stream no further back than the round of the sun, the lengthening and shortening of the great shaft . , .

Again it was dawn, radiant with the promise of good hunting. Slim and bronzed, the naked loveliness of his mate thrilled him as the red morning hues bathed her, upright in the entrance of the cave. The only appetites he knew, bodily hunger and physical passion, tormented his soul. Almost he turned back to ber, but the sudden clenching of his hand felt the haft of the long, balanced club. It was his sole weapon of defence and offence. Black basalt, shot with silver veins, born to his hand, it was all that stood between him and slow starvation, often between him and otath. Nmgoon treasured it according to his lights. The club smelt foully of stale blood; tainted shreds of flesh clung to it. Un' onsciously as twin desires swayed him Nmgoon mouthed at it. Saliva drooled thickly over his lips, the hunger urge rose clamant above the physical desire. Grunting he turned away to scramble, splay-footed, down the rocky steeps to the plain and breakfast.

His broad feet carried him but slowly and the shadow of the shaft was lengthening across the pluin ere he reached the edge of the marsh. Heat waves shimmered across the green scum of the wide morass-like stretch of fetid water, rank with decayed vegetation and the noisomeness of carrion-eating animals. The hunter, tongue lolling, hairy body dewed with a fine sweat, lurked along the margin among the thick clumps °f gigantic weed and huge overgrown reeds, his Hg-like eyes peering hither and thither in search °f Prey. Nor was it an easy matter, this eternal Quest for meat wherewith to fill the bellies of himself and his mate. The marsh was inhabited by carnivorous w ater-snakes and giant saurians. monstrous amphibians that fought and screamed at night but slept peacefully by day. Odd little duck-billed animals lived there too, with while flesh very Pleasant to rend a.nd swallow. Rarely then did Nmgoon return from the marsh without meat of some kind. Perchance a lump of fresh carrion, battered with his club from the carcase of a long necked lizard slain hideously in the fury of the night. Or perhaps it was the evil-smelling remnant of a water-snake left half-devoured between land and water by a satiated -saurian. Nmgoon himself disliked carrion inasmuch as bis appetite was glutted quicker than with the white flesh of the smaller victims of his own hunting craft. A stealthy creeping along the reedy shore, not too close, invariably' watchful,

lest a sudden hungry and wakeful lizard swoop ne ck and gaping jaws on one; a gentle dabbling in shallow places with a stalk of green weed till a small shovel-shaped head popped up and mild peered about in search of the succulent focyi. Then, quick as an eye-flash, the club would from the hand, thud between the eyes, ami 10, the breakfast of Nmgoon and ins mate waK prepared. But thatr morning hunting was poor. Vainly the shallow places were tickled, vainly the shore and reed beds searched for carrion. As well as hunger almost Nmgoon had known anger. And soon he was to know fear, and again, loneliness: aye, a welter of emotions such as that primeval man, hunter and faithful provider, had never known in all the countless lengthenings and shortenings of the great shadow. Like a thunderbolt the giant lizard came upon him. surging up from the water. Drowsing hidden in the shallows Nmgoon’s bait had stirred it into wakefulness. Two slitted nostrils sniffing on the water’s level smelt food, alive. Ere he knew it almost, the hunter became the hunted. Splayfooted Nmgoon had no chance of escape. Yet the old craft of the hunter, as he knew hunting, came instinctively to his aid. Swifter than the ungainly lurch and plunge of the enormous beast,

swifter than the swoop of the livid, coiling neck, the silver-veined core of basalt flashed sparkling from the practised hand of Nmgoon. A smooth shining streak it was, flighted with all the speed and strenth behind two hundred pounds of sheer, meat-fed brawn and muscle. A shrill animalscream, a hideous splash of blood and vitreous ooze—the granite-hard missile had smashed the protuberant eye from its socket. Rearing immense bulk from the swirling water the screaming saurian fell back upon its hindquarters. Nmgoon turned and fled. Floundering after him immediately came the great beast. The club protruded from the gaping wound until, in the agonised twisting and coiling of the long neck, it was suddenly loosened from the bony socket and shot forward beyond the slow-gaitpd man. He glanced over his shoulder, saw the beast almost at his heels, yet stopped to retrieve his weapon. The club was all that stood between Nmgoon and death. So Nmgoon treasured it according to his lights. Hard-pressed the hunted man dodged behind a thick clump of vegetation, shuffled round ;it to the other side. The saurian thundered through the high weeds, missed his prey and stopped. Sniffing and screaming incessantly it presently winded Nmgoon and floundered about in its tracks. Nmgoon dodged again, caqae within the vision of the remaining eye, and fled back to the shore. He fell into the water, grovelled hidden along the bottom until his lungs were bursting, and was bounced to the surface as the beast hurtled in after him. Regaining the shore he saw it threshing madly about, broad back toward him and he began to run. The saurian, prognathous jaws agape, was alert and wallowed ashore. For all its apparent clumsiness on land the amphibious monster could outspeod the primitive man. Again he was forced to dodge clumsily around the weed clumps, a jump or two ahead of death. And so Nmgoon knew feair, cold shuddering fear, as his weary feet took him round and round a grimly familiar runway. The long shadow shortened as afternoon drew apace to dusk. From the turbid waters of the marsh rose the squealing of awakening beasts, ravenous, scenting blood and slaughter. Soon a scaled monster flopped ashore, grisly head swaying on long neck, questing meat or battle, or both. Nmgoon saw it blocking his runway as he panted through the vegetation. Behind him thudded his antagonist. In the fading light he turned at

bay. Perchance he thought, in that desperate second, of his mate, slim and naked and hungry, awaiting him in the lonely cave high up on the cliff. Perchance too, the elder primeval Gods vouchsafed him mercy, a little respite ere his day was done. Upright he stood, quivering with terror, but his face steadfast to the oncoming avalanche. Tightly he gripped his treasured club, drew back his powerful arm, swept the heavy weapon forward and up, up like a loosened thunderbolt. Straightly it sped, viciously it struck home, and hurtled to one side as the vast body swept by almost on top of him. A bloody hole where the good eye had been, the maddened monster crashed onward, blind and impotent, to the hung'y jaws awaiting him. Nmgoon shivered, shook his shaggy head, searched for and found his club. Then, and not till then, he turned his weary feet toward home. ...

Again it was dawn. The primeval Gods slept sound, nor cared that the sands of Nmgoon were running low in the hour-glass. If One had but stooped to up-end it perchance Nmgoon would have awakened. But then the fulfilment of the heritage might have gone astray down the aeons ot Time. So Nmgoon slept on. Stealthily to the base of the towering shaft crept a woman, slim and bronzed and naked, but hungry no more. The man who stepped lightfooted behind her, red of pelt, blue-eyed, wanderer from a far country, had given her meat. Fresh luscious meat, sweet and toothsome, different from the rank provender of Nmgoon. Yet firsl he had found it necessary to club her into submission. The woman paused, sank on her heels, pointed to the inert Nmgoon and made signs. The red-pelted man shook his head and drew back. She rose, held to him and stroked the light knotted club in his hand. Again she pointed to the sleeper, but still the man drew back and back. Petulant, then suddenly a raging fury, the slim woman sprang to the side of Nmgoon, heaved up the gory club and crashed it down upon the bowed head. The red-haired lover squealed with fright and ran. As she fled from her dead into the dawn, the first red gleam of a

new day mellowed the treasure of Nmgoon as with a radiance of gold. . . . * * *

Shaded lights, pendant in silver-chained bowls of crystal, shadowed the rows of curios, the trophies of the chase, the ancestral armour and outlandish weaponry, lining the long panelled hall. A white glow, hung above the door of the library. It was closed, but the murmur of voices came clearly to the listening man without. He grinned as he turned the handle noiselessly, the grin of a man who might laugh at a joke in Hell. Carefully he pushed the freed door a fraction and peered in. The room was dark, warmscented, breathless with whispering passion. God! it was Hell all right. And once he had loved her, loved her—this treacherous wife of his bosom who caressed the lips and eyes and hair of another man under his very gaze. Waß it a million years ago, or just a few short hours? She laughed, deliciously. The music of her voice was turbulent In the ears of the man who grinned.

“Come and stand with me in the window, lover of mine . . . let us be young again and seek the sweet promise of the da%vu once more » . ’ “I must go ... he will be back soon . . . no, no, l must go—must remember you are a great lady, wife to the famous explorer, Sir lan McGowan . . . while I—l am just nobody, a wanderer from a ’far country . .

“Yes, yes, I know, I know . . . but I love you, wandering man . . . your red hair, your blue eyes, your gentleness, your youth , . . ah, I have always loved them since—”

He kissed her into silence, passionately. Silhouetted dimly in tlio deep embrasure of the wide window they clung in a melting embrace. Behind the door the man who grinned sickened queerly. Cold, maniacal fury swept him into atavism. His hand groped for a weapon, felt the cold stone haft slide easily into his palm from the wall. He opened the door silently and strode across the velvet pile.

“ —since those far-off days when you and I and Time were young together ...” He heard. So did the primeval gods. A hoary, wrinkled hand up-ended a spent hourglass; the sands ran smoothly. It was dark In the library, warm-scented, but a taint of carrion seared his nostrils. He saw dimly through a red haze . . . drew back his powerful arm, swept the heavy weapon forward and up, up like a loosened thunderbolt. Straightly it sped, viciously it struck home . . . The redliaired lover squealed with fright—and ran. Hastily the wrinkled hand overturned the hourglass. The sands fell *idle. As the man fled grinning from his dead into the dawn, the first red gleam of a new day mellowed the primeval treasure of Nmgoon, blood-spattered on the velvet pile, as with a radiance of pure gold.