Genus Homo Read online

  Ruby Stern leaned over and whispered to Scherer: "What are these things, Emil? Gorillas?"

  "I think so," answered the zoologist. "At least, I can't think of anything else they can be. They have longer thumbs and higher skulls than the apes of our time, and of course twentieth century gorillas didn't ordinarily walk erect the way these do, but a hell of a lot can happen in a million years. That's about the length of time it took to evolve us from something a lot more primitive than these boys. What's that, Dave —speak up? They don't mind our talking. How in hell should I know what they're going to do with us? Hey, Henley—you're the boss—how do we get away from our little playmates?"

  "Sorry," replied the chemist from the tail of the wagon, "Peggy here"—indicating Margaret Kelleigh who had gone into a fit of hysterical tears—"has been keeping me occupied. Your guess is as good as mine. We might be able to outrun 'em in a straightaway, but I'd hate to try to outlast one of them. Hey, Abner—what do you make of those gun-things they're carrying?"

  "Missile weapons of some kind," the archeologist replied. "Maybe they work with springs or compressed air—they're sort of like crossbows, only without the bow part. Emil—what would a bunch of African apes be doing in Pennsylvania, anyway?"

  "Search me—what are any of the creatures we've seen doing here? Maybe they're descended from apes that escaped from zoos. Maybe there's a land-bridge to Africa now. We'll probably find out in time. They seem like a pretty intelligent lot of monks."

  "Henley," said Ruth Pierne, "do you know any really good swear-words a girl could learn? I mean something like the ones in Ulysses, only more so. I've picked up some fair ones from my kids in school, but it's a part of a teacher's education that's sadly neglected. I thought maybe we could take the opportunity to tell these big brutes what we think of them before they know what we're talking about."

  "An excellent idea!" snapped the old-maid principal "Mac, you'll have to teach me. I've heard policemen swear before."

  Macdonald, sitting beside her, flushed and squirmed.

  The wagon did not seem to be following any road. They dodged around tree-trunks and splashed through stream-beds along a route that no sane road-builder would ever have chosen. Several times the vehicle was canted at an angle that seemed certain to send it toppling over on its helpless freight, but each time a gorilla or two would throw his weight against the lower side and prop it up. Twice in the first hour the wheels sank hub-deep in the ooze of a swamp which the pig and its driver seemed to have preferred to dry ground, but each time the apes seized the wheel-spokes, grunted and heaved, and out they came.

  The captives were kept busy bobbing and ducking to escape the branches that lashed at their faces; the apes seemed to pay no more attention to them than to so much swishing grass. While the wagon had springs of some sort, it bobbed and tossed so that those in it began to wish it had not. But for the lashings which fastened their legs to the seats, they would probably have been thrown clear out of the cart on more than one occasion.

  Late in the afternoon they came suddenly upon a bona fide road, rough and stony and overgrown with grass, but nevertheless a road. Then for a time their travel was rapid and reasonably smooth.

  At sunset they halted. The apes unhitched the pigoid and tethered it to a tree. The wagon was pulled off the road, and the people were lifted out and set on the ground under close guard. Out of the boxes which they had been using as benches the gorillas produced a variety of utensils and a sack of meal. One of them lit a fire with what looked like either a small fire-extinguisher or a large cigarette-lighter. Smudges were started to keep off the mosquitoes. A large pot was hung from a branch over the fire, and into it were poured a bucket of water and the contents of the bag. One gorilla stood over it and stirred while the others pulled up bushes and did miscellaneous chores around the camp. Bridger noted that there was no barricade; evidently these forest giants had nothing to fear from the ordinary predators of the countryside.

  Finally the pot was removed from the fire, and the apes squatted around it, eating with long-handled wooden spoons. Presently one of them brought the pot over to the people, who were squatting miserably in a row by the side of the road, and thrust a dripping spoonful of something in front of Morelli's face.

  The salesman sniffed, took a mouthful, swallowed, and made a face. "I'll be damned," he cried. "When I was a kid my folks always made me eat oatmeal for breakfast, and I hated the stuff like poison. I remember promising myself that when I grew up, one thing I was never going to do was eat oatmeal. And here I am being fed it by a big baboon, without any cream or sugar, and full of lumps the size of golf balls!"

  Packard grunted. "Quit beefing and finish your spoonful, Charley. After that damn fish diet I'd eat raw porcupine, quills and all. Anyway, oatmeal's good for you."

  The crowning indignity was still to be visited on them. When the oatmeal was gone, and they had been watered from a barrel slung under the rear of the wagon, one of the apes produced four massive collars, each attached to a rope of braided rawhide. "Oh, oh!" said Wilson. "Now we'll know how a Peke feels being taken for its evening walk."

  It was as he had said. While the captives were promenaded beside the road, four at a time, the remaining apes produced huge clay pipes and lit up. The smoke seemed to be that of tobacco, but it was far stronger than any tobacco the people had ever known. By this time they had ceased to be astonished at anything.

  As Parker remarked, "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if one of 'em was to break into a mammy song."

  Hardly had he spoken when a gorilla who was sitting with his back against a tree knocked out his pipe, began slapping his chest rhythmically, and throwing back his head commenced a weird yodeling that sounded as much like a Scottish pibroch as anything Bridger could remember. The other apes lay quietly around the fire, grunting appreciatively at infrequent intervals, and once joining their voices in a drawn-out chorus.

  By the time the concert was over it was dark, and the last of the captives had had their stroll. The gorillas spread pads on the ground and sat on them. They draped thick blankets over their shoulders, bent their heads forward on their chests, and went to sleep sitting up. Two of them carefully threaded a rope through the bonds of all the human beings and made the ends fast to a stout tree. They tossed several blankets over the woebegone crew and left them to wriggle as best they could into positions where sleep was possible. One gorilla sat cross-legged on the wagon, his shooting-device handy, the occasional glow of his pipe lighting his wrinkled black face.

  Zbradovski was lying near Bridger. "Pssst—chief," he hissed in the chemist's ear. "You suppose anyone has anything that'll cut this rope?"

  "Doubt it," Bridger replied. "They went through my pockets like a baby cyclone when they tied us up. Still—it won't do any harm to ask."

  He inched about on his stomach, whispering to those nearest him, with no result except that the sentry climbed down from his perch and came over to examine the rope. He repeated this precaution at intervals during the night. Barnes made one attempt to saw through his bonds with a small, sharp stone he had found in the middle of his back, but the guard discovered the abraded spot on his next inspection and took the stone away from him.

  Scherer was soon snoring lustily, and dog-tired, the others gradually dozed off. Once the entire party, apes and people, were awakened by the roaring of a catoid close at hand. Two of the apes got up and put more wood on the fire, but seemed otherwise unconcerned. The pig, however, was greatly excited. It made grumbling noises in its throat and emitted a series of snorts like a freight locomotive going up-grade.

  The gorillas were up before sunrise. "It's awful," Franchot moaned as a black paw hauled him unceremoniously to his feet. "Before we were caught you guys wouldn't let me sleep, and now these monks are just the same. Where is there any justice in this world?"

  The apes wasted no time. They gave the people hunks of a kind of nut bread to munch, bundled them into the wagon, hitched up the pigoid, and were on the
ir way just as the sun began to peep through the trees. After several hours the road leveled out and became smoother. By noon they were rolling through gently undulating country, dotted with small clumps of trees. The wild life was far commoner than it had been in the deeper forest. Herds of hundreds of small and medium-sized animals could be seen in the distance. A large bear-like creature, eating the tops off flowers by the roadside, left off as the expedition passed and sat up in a characteristic pose. "Woodchuckoid," was Scherer's verdict.

  There were herds of rabbitoids like the one whose carcass the people had appropriated. From a distance they looked like exceptionally shaggy mules. In the late afternoon the party saw a number of large flightless birds—not parrotoids, but something like long-necked, long-legged barnyard fowls the size of ostriches. Then Mrs. Aaronson let out a squeal: "Horses! Look, ev'ybody, real horses!"

  "Aw—they're chipmunks or something," retorted Morelli bitterly. "That's the hell of this damned world we're in. Nothing's what it looks like." But the animals spied the party, and drawn by curiosity galloped up and stood in a row a little distance off the road, snorting, pawing, and tossing their heads. They were horses, sure enough—smallish shaggy beasts with large heads, ugly but competent-looking. Bridger wondered why the apes had not domesticated them in place of the less tractable pigs. Suddenly something frightened one of them, he snorted, and the whole herd swung around and galloped off, squealing and kicking.

  That night was no improvement on their first. There was more oatmeal, and the same difficulty in finding comfortable sleeping positions. The apes had loosened the ropes on their wrists and replaced them with a series of slip-nooses around their necks which tightened at the slightest tension. After the first tentative tug the hardier members of the party gave up thoughts of escape, and lay wide-eyed, listening to the chorus of roars and howls that made the world seem a most unfriendly place.

  Late the next morning Alice Lloyd, who was seated at the front of the wagon and had the best view, cried, "Look there, Emil—aren't those more pigs?"

  "Looks like it," Scherer agreed. "Maybe they run wild. It might explain why the gorillas use them for draft animals, if they found the brutes here when they came over from Africa."

  "You always have a theory for everything!" the girl retorted. "Gee—I don't like the way that big one is looking at us!"

  Neither, it appeared, did the pig that was pulling them. The wagon stopped with a lurch. The pigoid swung around in his traces and began a faint rumbling sound deep in his chest, which grew deeper and louder with every moment. The wild pig, now about thirty yards from the wagon, stopped and rumbled in reply. The gorillas were making frantic attempts to get their own animal in motion again, but the two huge beasts were intent on each other's insults.

  The prospect of being charged by the mountain of black bristle that confronted them was nothing to be relished, tied as they were to the cart. The creature was larger than a bull bison. His tusks were , nearly a yard long, chipped and scarred from previous battles, and froth dribbled from his mouth as he pawed the ground and rumbled like an approaching thunderstorm.

  The rest of the apes put the wagon between themselves and the advancing boar and began to load their shooting-irons with heavy darts about a foot long, with large glass heads and thin wooden vanes. The breeches of the things were opened, the darts slipped inside, the breeches closed, and the things cocked by pulling back a knob that protruded from a long slot on the top of each barrel. Barnes watched the procedure with interest.

  Then their own hog gave a bellow that could have been heard for miles and tried to charge. The wagon rocked like a rowboat in a heavy sea and slewed around until it was angling across the road, with a line of gorillas hanging on to it for dear life. One of the biggest of the apes had the pig by its negligible tail and was trying desperately to get a solid foothold in the road. The other brute bellowed even more loudly, put down its head, and broke into a gallop. The gorillas swung their weapons to their shoulders; the things klunked and jerked like large-caliber rifles, and the charging boar halted in his stride, staggered sideways, and fell. He struggled to his feet again, almost immediately, but the fight had been taken out of him. As he limped away, shaking his head as if trying to dislodge the darts, the people could see the butt-ends of half a dozen of the missiles sticking out of his neck and shoulders.

  Barnes' eyes glistened. "I'd like to see inside one of those guns of theirs," he exclaimed. "I'll bet with a little whittlin' I could make 'em into six-shooters."

  Finally the tame hog, who seemed to think that he had driven off his challenger by sheer force of personality, was calmed down and persuaded to return to the road. The sun wheeled slowly through the sky as the party rumbled on. It sank behind the hills, but this time they stopped only long enough for the gorillas to light half a dozen lanterns which were hanging on the back of the wagon, and to dole out a liberal ration of nut-bread to themselves and their captives.

  The draft-beast trotted steadily on, the wagon lurched and rattled over ruts and cobbles, and the lanterns jiggled and smoked. About eleven o'clock the half-moon showed the people that they were passing a succession of flat, cleared areas darker colored than the surrounding grasslands.

  "Those are plowed fields or I'm a son of a dogoid!" said Barnes. "I guess these apes are just a bunch of farmers after all."

  "What do you think they were—cops?" asked Morelli, ducking a jab from Macdonald. Then: "Say—what are those things on the skyline? They look like buildings."

  "Why, they're windmills!" cried Miss Hansen. "They're just like the Dutch ones the children draw. See the big sails?"

  "Windmills!" scoffed Wilson. "They can't be so civilized if that's all they've got for power. Gripes—those beavers could do better with a water-wheel in their overflow."

  "Look up ahead," Alice Lloyd put in from her perch at the front of the wagon. "Aren't we coming to a wall?"

  A wall it was, or rather a stockade made of massive logs driven closely together. As they approached, a massive gate creaked open and they rumbled through and on down a muddy street. They could make out the shapes of one-story huts on either side, but nothing more. Other lanterns appeared out of the dark, gorilla voices were raised in questions, and their own gorillas replied at length. Lanterns were lifted, and curious black faces crowded around to see the captives.

  The wagon made several turns and finally halted. By now the moon, low in the sky, was blotted out by clouds, and the people could see nothing but a swirl of black fur in the darkness around the wagon, dimly lit by the guttering lanterns.

  "Guess this is the end of the line," Bridger said. "Now we find out what they're going to do to us. At least—hey, for God's sake Peggy, don't go and break down again. That goes for you too, Elizabeth. Take care of 'em, will you, Sneeze?"

  The gorillas gathered around the back of the wagon, and there was a sudden scream from Marjorie Tremblay as the tall, long-legged blonde was lifted off her seat. Presently there came sounds of a scuffle and the girl's voice raised in wrath and indignation. Evidently they're not hurting her, Bridger thought; just taking a few liberties. Too bad she can't use her great-big-wonderful-man routine on 'em.

  One by one the people disappeared into the darkness, out of which came shouts, curses, and wails of astonishment and anger. For those who remained the suspense was unbearable, and Macdonald's familiar bellow, "I'll fix you, you son of a . . ." brought a slightly hysterical giggle from the women.

  Bridger was nearly the last. In his turn he was lifted out, untied, and led off into the darkness. He did not resist, but kept alert for any chance to make a break. Then an ape took each of his extremities and laid him on his back on the ground with the delicate firmness of Dr. Ditmars handling a cobra. Two others began to examine his clothes in the flickering lantern-light; then deftly they began to strip him.

  He held his tongue, but when they began to fiddle with his ragged underwear Bridger could not help squirming, with as little effect as if he had been c
ast in bronze. Powerful hands held him plastered to the ground and other hands completed the stripping. Presently they hoisted him to his feet, peering at him thoughtfully from all angles. As if, he thought, I were a new-born baby and they were a bunch of doctors. A two-headed baby, at that.

  Their examination seemed to satisfy the apes that he was not greatly different from the rest of his kind, so he was led away. A gate of some kind opened, his wrists were freed, and the lanterns moved away. He groped around in the darkness and touched a warm, smooth patch of human hide. A woman's voice gasped, and he snatched his hand away and stepped quickly back.

  "Who-all's here?" he called into the darkness. "Anyone hurt? They took every stitch I had on."

  Voices answered plaintively and indignantly from the dark: "Me too."

  "I'm here, Henley."

  "They must want us to die of pneumonia!"

  "I never heard of such a thing!"

  "They looked me over like some God-damned bug!": that was Scherer.

  And Aaronson: "Rachel! Where is my Rachel?"

  Lanterns approached again and the gate opened; Mrs. Aaronson and the Hooper girl were led in, and the lights bobbed away again.

  Barnes' voice came at Bridger's elbow: "We're in some kind of pen, Henley—I've been all the way 'round the walls." There was a brisk slap. "Damn those mosquitoes, anyway!"

  Toomey's sullen voice rose some distance away: "All right, Professor—you're the boss. Get us out of this."

  A clamor answered: "Pipe down, Dave—nobody could help this!"

  "Okay—that's his job, ain't it?"

  "I want my clothes!"