You didn't meet them?"
"No," I said, "I didn't."
"Oh, well," the Cave-man went on, "there are lots of ways
and passages through. I guess they went in another
direction. The wife generally likes to take a stroll
round in the morning and see some of the neighbours. But,
say," he interrupted, "I guess I'm forgetting my manners.
Let me get you a drink of cave-water. Here, take it in
this stone mug! There you are, say when! Where do we get
it? Oh, we find it in parts of the cave where it filters
through the soil above. Alcoholic? Oh, yes, about fifteen
per cent, I think. Some say it soaks all through the soil
of this State. Sit down and be comfortable, and, say if
you hear the woman coming just slip your mug behind that
stone out of sight. Do you mind? Now, try one of these
elm-root cigars. Oh, pick a good one--there are lots
of them!"
We seated ourselves in some comfort on the soft sand,
our backs against the boulders, sipping cave-water and
smoking elm-root cigars. It seemed altogether as if one
were back in civilization, talking to a genial host.
"Yes," said the Cave-man, and he spoke, as it were, in
a large and patronizing way. "I generally let my wife
trot about as she likes in the daytime.
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