Old One Eye sat in the mouth of his cave and blinked. Though he blinked both eyes, he could see only out of one of them. Years ago, when One Eye was called Swift Foot, and could run down a deer in the open, the other had been pierced by a thorn and destroyed.
It was wonderful when you came to look at him, to think that old One Eye ever could have been a swift runner, for his legs were no longer nor bigger than his arms. His body was long, heavily paunched and massive; his head hung forward on his hairy chest and he sat hunched over like an ape.
In truth, One Eye looked very much like an ape. His forehead was flat and retreating, his jaw undershot and powerful, and he was covered with matted hair pretty much all over.
His one eye at times was beady black with intelligence, and the next minute it would waver and become plaintive and unreasoning like the eye of a frightened little child. His manner of life was like his eye.
At times he would behave after a cunningly-thought-out schedule, and the next minute he would be doing something that was purely instinctive.
As he sat in the mouth of his cave blinking, and scratching his stomach with a blunt flint, he was revolving a mighty question. One Eye had a daughter.
According to our notions she was very ugly, but the men of the tribe to which One Eye belonged were after her. It was the mating season and she was of suitable age to pair. She looked like her father, but was not so hairy. Her mother had been eaten by wolves when Maku (for that was the girl’s name) was only a few years old. And so she had been brought up by her father, who was very fond of her. And now that it was time for them to part, he naturally wanted a considerable compensation for the loss of his daughter. She made him very comfortable.
Strong Hand had offered three very finely balanced clubs. You had only to swing one to be confident of getting your man. And One Eye wanted the clubs very dearly. He loved to fight—and get the best of it. But then, Fish Catch, the renowned maker of nets, had offered him one of his best for the girl. And One Eye, who could not make nets himself, knew that his own private net was so rotted as to be useless, and that in order to live comfortably it was necessary to have a net—for a good net meant good food. So he was sadly torn in his mind.
There had been other offers for the girl, but none so glittering. And One Eye had promised on this very afternoon to decide between Strong Hand and Fish Catch.
When they came up, stooping, hairy, bent of knee, and stealthy, the one bearing the net, the other the clubs, One Eye had not come to any decision.
They sat down before him, without salutation, and for some moments blinked and dug at the earth with their toes. Strong Hand was the first to speak.
“With any of these clubs—” he began.
But Fish Catch broke in.
“Clubs!” and grunted. “What are the use of weapons to one that is without means of procuring food. It is well known that One Eye is too old to hunt with success. If he would live he must fish. Now this net—see it is of the best fibre, and knotted as I alone can knot. It will last you twenty years—maybe twenty-five—”
“One Eye,” said Strong Hand, “is first of all a fighter. If he gives me the girl I will see to it that he never wants for food.”
“That is the best talk yet,” said One Eye.
“Then you give her to me?” said Strong Hand.
“Slowly—slowly,” said One Eye. “I must have time to consider. But whom have we here?”
