The Covenant by James A. Michener

hardened her heart when he began to cry. Quickly she smothered the babe by throwing down earth to refill the hole, for although children were needed to keep the clan vital, twins were omens of bad luck, and when a choice as painful as this became obligatory, it was always the male that was sacrificed. Even one extra infant, during a desert crossing, would consume water that might prove critical.
    Kharu, having discharged her obligations, now demanded that Gumsto fulfill his: “We must take even the boldest steps to securewater and meat. And you must allow Gao to do the killing, for he cannot lead this clan without a wife.”
    Gumsto nodded. He had used every stratagem to delay this moment, but now he was satisfied that his son must ready himself for command: “It’s difficult to think of him leading the hunters. Or Naoka gathering beetles.”
    Kharu smiled at him. “You’re an old man now. It’s time you gave up your foolish dreams.” She moved close to him and took his hand. “We never suffered in this clan when you were leader. Now teach Gao to be like you.”
    He took his son aside and said grimly, “We are close to perishing unless we have the courage to take daring steps. Those hills to the west, I’m sure they hold eland and water. But they also hold lions. Are you ready?” When Gao nodded, Gumsto led the file west, with everyone surviving precariously on sips of water from Kharu’s final egg.
    As they headed for the ridge of hills they were kept under observation: far in the blazing sky, wheeling endlessly to mark anything that moved across the desert, a flight of vultures watched the tiny band impassively. That these forlorn stragglers would accomplish their salvation seemed most improbable, and the vultures waited, patterning the sky with impatience. Hyenas stirred in various parts of the desert, for if the vultures remained aloft, some living thing must be about to perish, and the scavengers moved close, certain that some older person would soon fall behind.
    This time they were cheated by old Kharu, her wrinkles so deep that not even dust could penetrate. It was she who apportioned the last water from her final egg and who then strode ahead, determined to keep her people moving forward, and it was she, not her husband, who first saw the eland exactly where he had predicted.
    It was a frustrating hunt. Near death from thirst and hunger, the little band watched impotently as the eland moved majestically out of one trap after another; the combined skills of Gumsto and his son were neutralized by the cleverness of the animals. On the second night the fatigued men heard an ominous roaring, and for a long time no one spoke, but finally Gao, who understood animals, uttered the fateful words: “We must use the lions.”
    This strategy was usually avoided, for it entailed so much danger that none of the hunters wished to employ it, but old Kharu, who was watching her clan disintegrate, desperately wanted to encouragethe men. She knew that in matters of hunting, decisions must always be left to them; nevertheless, when no one supported her son, she broke ancient tradition by thrusting herself into the midst of the hunters and saying firmly, “Gao is right. We shall die if we don’t use the lions.”
    Gumsto looked at his weather-beaten old woman with pride, knowing the courage required for her to intrude upon this meeting. “Tomorrow we will use the lions,” he said.
    This tactic, used only in extremity, would require the united effort of all, even the children, and the probability was great that one or several would lose their lives, but when the continuance of the band was at stake, there was no alternative.
    “We go,” Gumsto said quietly, and his little people spread themselves into a half-moon, creeping toward the eland. Gao left the group to ascertain exactly where the lions dozed, and when he signaled their position, Gumsto and another hunter started to move noisily, so that the eland would hear them