It was a hatred born of instinct and roused sharply from its long slumber by experience.
Without ever having seen or smelled man before, he knew that man was his deadliest enemy, and to be feared more than all the wild things in the mountains.

He would fight the biggest grizzly.

He would turn on the fiercest pack of wolves.

He would brave flood and fire without flinching.
But before man he must flee! He must hide! He must constantly guard himself in the peaks and on the plains with eyes and ears and nose! Why he sensed this, why he understood all at once that a creature had come into his world, a pigmy in size, yet more to be dreaded than any foe he had ever known, was a miracle which nature alone could explain.

It was a hearkening back in the age-dimmed mental fabric of Thor's race to the earliest days of man--man, first of all, with the club; man with the spear hardened in fire; man with the flint-tipped arrow; man with the trap and the deadfall, and, lastly, man with the gun.