SCENE:  A summer plain, the eastern side of which is bounded by grassy hills of limestone, the other sides by a forest.  The hill nearest to the plain terminates in a cliff, in the face of which, nearly at the level of the ground, are four caves, with low, narrow entrances.  Before the caves, and distant from them less than one hundred feet, is a broad, flat rock, on which are laid several sharp slivers of flint, which, like the rock, are blood-stained.  Between the rock and the cave-entrances, on a low pile of stones, is squatted a man, stout and hairy.  Across his knees is a thick club, and behind him crouches a woman.  At his right and left are two men somewhat resembling him, and like him, bearing wooden clubs.  These four face the west, and between them and the bloody rock squat some threescore of cave-folk, talking loudly among themselves.  It is late afternoon.  The name of him on the pile of stones is Uk, the name of his mate, Ala; and of those at his right and left, Ok and Un.

Uk:

Be still!

(Turning to the woman behind him)

Thou seest that they become still.  None save me can make his kind be still, except perhaps the chief of the apes, when in the night he deems he hears a serpent....  At whom dost thou stare so long?  At Oan?  Oan, come to me!

Oan:

I am thy cub.

Uk:

Oan, thou art a fool!

Ok and Un:

Ho! ho!  Oan is a fool!

All the Tribe:

Ho! ho!  Oan is a fool!

Oan:

Why am I a fool?

Uk:

Dost thou not chant strange words?  Last night I heard thee chant strange words at the mouth of thy cave.

Oan:

Ay! they are marvellous words; they were born within me in the dark.

Uk:

Art thou a woman, that thou shouldst bring forth?  Why dost thou not sleep when it is dark?

Oan:

I did half sleep; perhaps I dreamed.

Uk:

And why shouldst thou dream, not having had more than thy portion of flesh?  Hast thou slain a deer in the forest and brought it not to the Stone?

All the Tribe:

Wa!  Wa!  He hath slain in the forest, and brought not the meat to the
Stone!

Uk:

Be still, ye!

(To Ala)

Thou seest that they become still....  Oan, hast thou slain and kept to thyself?

Oan:

Nay, thou knowest that I am not apt at the chase.  Also it irks me to squat on a branch all day above a path, bearing a rock upon my thighs.  Those words did but awaken within me when I was peaceless in the night.

Uk:

And why wast thou peaceless in the night?

Oan:

Thy mate wept, for that thou didst heat her.

Uk: