Suddenly, the big flathead made a grunting sound and waved his arm. Thonolan almost threw his spear, but he caught Jondalar's gesture waving him back just in time. Only the young flathead had moved, and he ran back into the bushes they had just stepped out of. He returned quickly, carrying the spear Thonolan had thrown, and, to his amazement, brought it to him. Then the young one went to the river near the log bridge and fished out a stone. He returned to the big one with it and seemed to bow his head, looking contrite. The next instant, all six melted back into the brush without a sound.

Thonolan breathed a sigh of relief when he realized they were gone. "I didn't think we were going to get out of that one! But I was sure going to take one of them down with me. I wonder what that was all about?"

"I'm not sure," Jondalar replied, "but it could be that young one started something the big one didn't want to finish, and I don't think it was because he was afraid. It took nerve to stand there and face your spear, and then make the move he did."

"Maybe he just didn't know any better."

"He knew. He saw you throw that first spear. Why else would he tell that youngster to go get it and give it back to you?"

"You really think he told him to do it? How? They can't talk."

"I don't know, but somehow that big one told the young one to give you back your spear and get his stone. Like that would make everything even. No one was hurt, so I guess it did. You know, I'm not so sure flatheads are just animals. That was smart. And I didn't know they wore furs and carried weapons, and walked just like we do."

"Well, I know why they're called flatheads! And they were a mean-looking bunch. I would not want to tangle with one of them hand to hand."