In the Beginning Read Free Page A

slope to the water hole. They went in their customary order, with the young hunters in front and the older hunters, ranged about Dom’s father, bringing up the rear: only in attack did he lead the way. In between walked the women and children and the old ones. The hunters carried only their weapons—the others carried hides and sun-dried meat. These were all the possessions the tribe had.
    There was a lion at the water hole—perhaps that which Dom had heard in the night—and various small animals and birds. There were no antelope. The birds rose in the air and the animals fled as the tribe approached, the lion last of all but long before they were there.
    At the water’s edge the young hunters stood to either side, and the women and children and old ones made way too for the older hunters. They inturn made way for Dom’s father, who strode through their ranks, biggest and strongest of all the tribe, and squatted beside the pool. He drank deeply and slowly, pausing several times before he stood up and raised his hand. Then the older hunters drank, followed by the young hunters and at last the women and children and old ones.
    After drinking they ate, chewing on the dry stringy meat. Then Dom’s father spoke.
    â€œThere is less water here. This pool is drying up, as others have done. The antelope know this: that is why they have gone away.”
    The water hole lay in a hollow, bringing the grassy horizon close on every side. He pointed to the south.
    â€œWe must follow the antelope. Wherever they go, we will go, to the earth’s end if need be. But first we must go to the Cave. We will say good-by to the spirits of our ancestors, and pray to be guided to where the antelope have gone.”
    They listened to him, troubled but acquiescent. It was hard to imagine going into another land than this one they were used to, but they knew he spoke the truth—about the drying pools and the vanishingantelope. And they knew he was the chief.
    His gaze settled on one face. He looked at Dom.
    â€œIt is time for my son to choose his weapons.”
    Dom’s mother stood close by. She said:
    â€œNo!”
    Dom’s father looked at her but he did not speak. There was fear in her face. Yet she said:
    â€œHe is too young. It lacks a year before he should take weapons. He is not strong enough to be a hunter.”
    Dom’s father took a step forward and his right hand moved. She tried to dodge the blow but his fist struck her jaw and she fell. She lay moaning at Dom’s feet.
    His father said to Dom: “You are my son. We must leave this land, to follow the antelope. We will go a long way from the Cave, and may not return to it in my lifetime. So you must choose your weapons, and become a hunter.”
    The hard eyes stared at Dom from the bearded face. There had been other sons, two of them, but they had met their deaths in the hunt. Only Dom was left.
    He bowed his head in silence. His mother stillmoaned as she lay on the ground, but he did not move to help her. The chief’s word and wish were law to all the tribe, and especially to his son.
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    He remembered how after that they went to the Cave.
    In the morning they could see the hills, heat-hazed above the shimmering plain, but it was late afternoon before they reached the first outcroppings of limestone, and evening by the time they came to the Cave itself. At the sight of it the tribe halted and stood silent, while Dom’s father made obeisance to the holy place and to the spirits of their forefathers. Only to these would he ever bow his head.
    The Cave was the one fixed place, the only thing real and distinctive among the featureless expanses of the savanna; where nests of grass were made each night and abandoned and forgotten next morning, where even the drinking holes were scarcely distinguishable one from another. In the rainy seasons the tribe moved into the Cave and lived there; if home had had