Once there was a time when the blacks had no fire. They had not learned the way to make it by rubbing two sticks together; or if they had once known the way, they had forgotten it. And they were very miserable, for it was often cold and wintry, and they had no fire to warm them, nor any way of cooking food.

Fire had been theirs once. But there came two women upon the Earth; strange women, speaking in unknown tongues, with great eyes in which there was no fear. They did not love the blacks. They lived in their camps for a time, and built for themselves a wurley, coming and going as they pleased; but always there was hatred in their wild eyes, and the blacks feared them exceedingly. Because they feared them, although they hated them, they gave them food, and the women cooked it for themselves, for at that time the fire blossomed at the door of every hut.

But one day, the blacks awoke to find the women gone. They had gone in the night, silently, and with them they took all the fire that the blacks had. There was not even a coal left to start the hearth-blaze for the shivering people.

The fighting-men made haste to arm themselves, and started in pursuit of the women. They travelled through swamps and morasses, across boggy lands and creeks fringed with reeds and sedges; all the time seeing nothing of the women, but knowing that they were on the right track, by the faint smell of fire that still hung in the air. "They have gone this way, carrying Fire!" they said. "Soon we shall overtake them." And they pressed on, going faster and faster as the smell of burning wood became stronger and stronger.

At last they came out upon a little open space, and, looking across it, they saw a new wurley made of bushes interlaced with reeds. In front of it smoke curled up lazily, and they caught the gleam of red coals, and yellow flame. The two women sat by the fire, motionless. The fighting-men broke into a run, shouting: "Now we will make an end of these women!" they cried fiercely to each other, as they ran, gripping their spears and throwing-sticks.

The women sat by the fire taking no heed. So little did they seem to notice the running warriors that it seemed that they did not see them; or, if they did see them, they cared no more than for a line of black swans flying westward into the sunset. One stirred the fire gently, and laid across the red embers a dried stick of she-oak. The other weaved a mat of rushes in a curious device of green and white; and as she twisted them in and out, she smiled. Even when the long shout of the fighting-men sent its echoes rolling round the sky, they did not look up. The glow of the flames shone reflected deep in their eyes.

So the fighting-men came on, grim and relentless, burning with the anger of all their long chase and the hot desire for revenge. They tightened their grip on their waddies, since there was nothing to be gained by risking a throwing-stick or a spear when the enemy to be slain was only two women, weak and unarmed. For such defenceless creatures, a blow with a waddy would be sufficient. But, half a spear\'s cast from the wurley, something they could not see brought them to a sudden, gasping halt. It was as though a wall were there, soft and invisible, but yet a wall. They could not touch it to climb over it, neither could they force their way through. They struck at it, and it was as if their sticks struck the empty air. There was nothing to see but the wurley, and the fire, and the quiet women, and the air was clear and bright. But no step farther could they advance.

They circled about the camp, trying at every step to get nearer to the wurley. It was all to no purpose: always the wall met them, though they could not see it. So they came back to the point whence they had started, breathless, angry, and a little afraid. They were brave men, and used to battle, but it is easier to fight a visible enemy than one that lurks, unseen, in the air. It was Magic, and they knew it. Still, their anger burned furiously within them, and one lifted a spear tipped with poisoned bone, and flung it at the women. To see him lift his hand was enough for the band. A storm of spears went hurtling through the air.

For a few yards the spears flew straight and true. But then they stopped suddenly in mid-flight, as though an unseen wall had met them. For a moment they seemed to hang in the air, then they fell in a jangling heap among the tussocks. And beyond them, while the terrified warriors shrank together, gesticulating and trembling, the women laid more sticks upon the fire, and smiled.

The fighting-men were cunning, and they did not give in easily. Not only were they smarting with the fury of defeat, but the tale was not one they wished to carry back to the tribe, lest they should become a laughing-stock even to the women and young boys. So they drew off, thinking under cover of night to renew the attack in the hope that when the women slept their Magic would also sleep. So, when darkness had fallen, they crept up again, on noiseless feet. But the invisible wall was there, and they could find no gap in its circle; while, all the time, the fire burned redly before the wurley, and the women sat by it, feeding it, and weaving their mats of white and green.

At length the warriors became weak for want of food, and weary of the useless struggle; and so they gave up the fight and slowly made their way back, across swamp-land and morass, to the tribe that waited for them, shivering and fireless, in the shadow of the hills.

Great and bitter were the lamentations at the news of their defeat. They had been eagerly watched for; and when they came slowly back to the camp, trailing their spears, a long cry of angry disappointment rent the air. It was difficult to believe their story. Who could imagine a wall, strong enough to stop warriors, yet that could not be seen? So they found themselves coldly looked upon, and their wives said unpleasant things to them in their wurleys that night. Quite a number of wives had sore heads next morning—since it was easier to deal with a talkative wife by means of a waddy than by argument. But the wives had the last word, for all that, and the small boys of the tribe used to call jeering words at the disgraced warriors, from the safe concealment of a clump of dogwood, or fern. Meanwhile, there was no cooked food. The tribe was very far from being happy.

Then a band of young men, who were not picked warriors, but were anxious to distinguish themselves, made up their minds that they would go forth to find the Fire-Women and slay them, and bring back Fire to the tribe. They were very young men, and so they were confident that they could succeed where the warriors had failed; and for at least a week before they started they went about the camp telling every one how they meant to do it. When they were not doing this, or singing songs about the great deeds they meant to perform—and very queer songs they were—they were polishing their weapons and making new ones, and talking together, at a great rate, of their sec............