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Updated: May 15, 2025
Ab did as he was told, and, poor marksman with his new device, of course missed the big tree repeatedly, broad as the mark was, but when, at last, the bolt struck the hard trunk fairly there was a sound which told of the sharpness of the blow and the headless shaft rebounded back for yards. Old Mok looked upon it all delightedly.
Cheditafa would serve his mistress, Maka would serve the captain, and Mok would wear fine clothes and serve his young master Ralph, whenever, haply, he should have the chance.
But Banker's coat had been torn from his back, and his pistol stood out in bold relief in his belt, and Cheditafa pointed to the breathless bandit, and screamed: "Bad man! Bad man! Try to kill me! This good Mok save my life!"
He had an ambition in it all and old Mok was satisfied with what he did. The boy was always experimenting, ever trying a new flint chipper or using a third stone to tap delicately the one held in the hand to make the fracture, or wondering aloud why it would not be well to make this flint knife a little thinner, or that spearhead a trifle heavier.
But Little Mok, unable to take up for himself the burden of an independent existence, was not slain nor left to die of neglect as might have been another child thus crippled in the time in which he lived.
His little chest heaved, his eyes flashed, and then he wriggled from Lightfoot's arms into the lap of Old Mok, snuggled down into the old man's furs and hid his face there; and the two understood each other. It was soon after this great event of the first fish-catching that Red-Spot, Ab's mother, died.
Among all the children of Ab and remarkable it was for the age the best loved was Little Mok, the eldest son. When the child, strong and joyous, was scarcely two years old, he fell from a ledge off the cliff where he had climbed to play, and both his legs were broken.
He explained it once, twice, three times, and then he and Mok were sent away, and told to go to bed, and under no circumstances to mention to their mistress what had happened, or to anybody who might mention it to her. And this Cheditafa solemnly promised for both. The clock struck one as Ralph still sat in his chair, wondering what all this meant, and what might be expected to happen next.
Then, in spite of the shouts of disapprobation which arose on every side, he led away the negro as if he had been a captured dog with his tail between his legs. Mok could easily have thrown Cheditafa across the street, but his respect and reverence for his elder and superior were so great that he obeyed his commands without a word of remonstrance.
How this man should have suddenly appeared in Paris, why he came there, and what he was going to do, whether he was alone, or with his band concealed in the neighboring doorways, Mok did not trouble his mind to consider. He held in his brazen grip a creature whom he considered worse than the most devilish of African devils, a villain who had been going to kill Cheditafa.
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