Wild Man Island by Will Hobbs

Author:Will Hobbs [Hobbs, Will]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Usernet, C429, Kat, Extratorrents
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2002-01-19T13:00:00+00:00

15

WHAT WAS I DOING WRONG? I had the bowstring looped around the spindle, I was sawing back and forth with the bow. It was agony, and it was taking forever. The spindle was creating plenty of friction, but all I could manage was a thin plume of smoke. I could only hope that the wild man wasn’t finding his dog and wouldn’t find him anytime soon.

The base of the spindle squeaked as it drilled continuously in the socket. Heated sawdust was building up around the base of the spindle and turning black. Smoke kept rising, the cedar was smouldering—so why couldn’t I make flame?

Too much breath, maybe. Too much desperation. Gently, Andy, gently.

I had seen a bow drill demonstration once at the Museum of Natural History in Denver. It had looked so easy.

It wasn’t.

At last a tiny coal glowed orange and stayed orange. I gave it breath while feeding it old-man’s beard, not so much as to smother it, just enough to give it fuel and opportunity.

At last, a fragile wink of flame.

More old man’s beard, but gently.

Finally, fire.

With my free hand I reached for a torch, then brought its head close to the flame. That was all it took. The torch sputtered at first, then fingers of flame ran around and around it until the entire pitchy head was ablaze.

I threw the carrying strap of the hide bag over my neck and shoulder. In addition to the food, it had room for two spare torches. With a glance over my shoulder I started inside the cave. The wind nearly blew out the torch but it stayed lit. This is crazy, I thought, but I kept going.

The entrance passage was a long slide of loose rock. I took it sitting down. Water dripped from the ceiling. At the bottom of the slope was a large room lit with dim natural light. I stopped breathing when I saw dozens of bones and skulls. The wild man’s sandals had left marks here and there. I jumped to a grisly conclusion, and my heart started jackhammering.

With the torch a little closer, I saw that the skulls weren’t human after all. They were bear skulls. A few twists and turns, and I left behind the twilight zone, as cavers call the first stretch of dim natural light. From now on I would be totally blind if my torch failed. At the slightest hint it might go out, I’d light another one.

I followed the passage, always downhill, into caverns draped with stalactites, countless numbers of them hanging from the ceiling, and rows upon rows of organ pipes. They all dripped water. There wasn’t any wind that I could feel. I reassured myself that cave air slows almost to a standstill in big rooms. There had to be another opening.

The air was cold, but I was dressed in all my layers, and the pitch in the torch burned hot and kept me warm enough.

I walked around blue pools on smooth white flowstone terraces made of calcite, the mineral that forms from water percolating through limestone.

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