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he said.
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for you at the shop,"<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something
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"I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop,"<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could
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"I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop,"<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't
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work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop,"<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly
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to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop,"<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a
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Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop,"<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner
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drunk. The men lay in their hammocks and the women trotted between them carrying calabashes of cassiri. Everything reeked of roast pork. "It will take them a week to get sober," said Dr Messinger. All that week the black boys lounged in camp; sometimes they washed their clothes and hung them out on the gunwales of the boat to dry in the sun; sometimes they went fishing and came back with a massive catch, speared on a stick (the flesh was tasteless and rubbery); usually in the evenings they sang songs round the fire. The fellow who had been stung kept to his hammock, groaning loudly and constantly asking for medicine. On the sixth day the Indians began to appear. They shook hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop,"<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would
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insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop,"<|quote|>he said.</|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."
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Brenda
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at the shop," he said.<|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."</|quote|>"So could I. Have you
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mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said.<|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."</|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes,
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happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said.<|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."</|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support
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are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said.<|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."</|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know."
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At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said.<|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."</|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I
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in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said.<|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."</|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of
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men lay in their hammocks and the women trotted between them carrying calabashes of cassiri. Everything reeked of roast pork. "It will take them a week to get sober," said Dr Messinger. All that week the black boys lounged in camp; sometimes they washed their clothes and hung them out on the gunwales of the boat to dry in the sun; sometimes they went fishing and came back with a massive catch, speared on a stick (the flesh was tasteless and rubbery); usually in the evenings they sang songs round the fire. The fellow who had been stung kept to his hammock, groaning loudly and constantly asking for medicine. On the sixth day the Indians began to appear. They shook hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said.<|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."</|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see
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their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said.<|quote|>"Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."</|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh,
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A Handful Of Dust
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"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"
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John Beaver
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luck just at the moment."<|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"</|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says
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do with a little good luck just at the moment."<|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"</|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps
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my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."<|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"</|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway?
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them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."<|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"</|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you
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_As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."<|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"</|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The
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downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."<|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"</|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long
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"It will take them a week to get sober," said Dr Messinger. All that week the black boys lounged in camp; sometimes they washed their clothes and hung them out on the gunwales of the boat to dry in the sun; sometimes they went fishing and came back with a massive catch, speared on a stick (the flesh was tasteless and rubbery); usually in the evenings they sang songs round the fire. The fellow who had been stung kept to his hammock, groaning loudly and constantly asking for medicine. On the sixth day the Indians began to appear. They shook hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."<|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"</|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which
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is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment."<|quote|>"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"</|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."
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Brenda
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you asked Allan about Brown's?"<|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."</|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've
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moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"<|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."</|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know.
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to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"<|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."</|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure
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yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"<|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."</|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken
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wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"<|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."</|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't
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substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"<|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."</|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock
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said Dr Messinger. All that week the black boys lounged in camp; sometimes they washed their clothes and hung them out on the gunwales of the boat to dry in the sun; sometimes they went fishing and came back with a massive catch, speared on a stick (the flesh was tasteless and rubbery); usually in the evenings they sang songs round the fire. The fellow who had been stung kept to his hammock, groaning loudly and constantly asking for medicine. On the sixth day the Indians began to appear. They shook hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"<|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."</|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As
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two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?"<|quote|>"Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."</|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"
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John Beaver
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about ten chaps last week."<|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"</|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are
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did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."<|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"</|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."
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got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."<|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"</|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's
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in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."<|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"</|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he
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me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."<|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"</|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded
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"There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."<|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"</|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she
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sometimes they washed their clothes and hung them out on the gunwales of the boat to dry in the sun; sometimes they went fishing and came back with a massive catch, speared on a stick (the flesh was tasteless and rubbery); usually in the evenings they sang songs round the fire. The fellow who had been stung kept to his hammock, groaning loudly and constantly asking for medicine. On the sixth day the Indians began to appear. They shook hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."<|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"</|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank
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addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week."<|quote|>"Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"</|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."
|
Brenda
|
that mean I've been blackballed?"<|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."</|quote|>"I thought that you were
|
chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"<|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."</|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and
|
he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"<|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."</|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me.
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"I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"<|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."</|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I
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seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"<|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."</|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I
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can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"<|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."</|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.
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them out on the gunwales of the boat to dry in the sun; sometimes they went fishing and came back with a massive catch, speared on a stick (the flesh was tasteless and rubbery); usually in the evenings they sang songs round the fire. The fellow who had been stung kept to his hammock, groaning loudly and constantly asking for medicine. On the sixth day the Indians began to appear. They shook hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"<|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."</|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load;
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including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?"<|quote|>"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."</|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * *
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."
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John Beaver
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so odd about their clubs."<|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."</|quote|>"I asked them. What does
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"I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."<|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."</|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want
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I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."<|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."</|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am
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things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."<|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."</|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room
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and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."<|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."</|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever
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the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."<|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."</|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I
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in the sun; sometimes they went fishing and came back with a massive catch, speared on a stick (the flesh was tasteless and rubbery); usually in the evenings they sang songs round the fire. The fellow who had been stung kept to his hammock, groaning loudly and constantly asking for medicine. On the sixth day the Indians began to appear. They shook hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."<|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."</|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would
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was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs."<|quote|>"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."</|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"
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Brenda
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Allan and Reggie support me."<|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"</|quote|>"I'm not sure that I
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you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."<|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"</|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's
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could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."<|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"</|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off.
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telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."<|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"</|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together.
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"And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."<|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"</|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he
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the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."<|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"</|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur
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catch, speared on a stick (the flesh was tasteless and rubbery); usually in the evenings they sang songs round the fire. The fellow who had been stung kept to his hammock, groaning loudly and constantly asking for medicine. On the sixth day the Indians began to appear. They shook hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."<|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"</|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest
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to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me."<|quote|>"I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"</|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I'm not sure that I do."
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John Beaver
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to Veronica's for the week-end?"<|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do."</|quote|>"_I'd_ like it." "It's a
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anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"<|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do."</|quote|>"_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't
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chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"<|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do."</|quote|>"_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It
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"I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"<|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do."</|quote|>"_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber
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know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"<|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do."</|quote|>"_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver
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half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"<|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do."</|quote|>"_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl
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songs round the fire. The fellow who had been stung kept to his hammock, groaning loudly and constantly asking for medicine. On the sixth day the Indians began to appear. They shook hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"<|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do."</|quote|>"_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger
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onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?"<|quote|>"I'm not sure that I do."</|quote|>"_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent
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A Handful Of Dust
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"_I'd_ like it."
|
Brenda
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not sure that I do."<|quote|>"_I'd_ like it."</|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and
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Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do."<|quote|>"_I'd_ like it."</|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes
|
mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do."<|quote|>"_I'd_ like it."</|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault
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you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do."<|quote|>"_I'd_ like it."</|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go
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must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do."<|quote|>"_I'd_ like it."</|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes,
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the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do."<|quote|>"_I'd_ like it."</|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once
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who had been stung kept to his hammock, groaning loudly and constantly asking for medicine. On the sixth day the Indians began to appear. They shook hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do."<|quote|>"_I'd_ like it."</|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to
|
us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do."<|quote|>"_I'd_ like it."</|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"
|
John Beaver
|
I do." "_I'd_ like it."<|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"</|quote|>"I shall be." "Yes... well,
|
week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it."<|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"</|quote|>"I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am
|
blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it."<|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"</|quote|>"I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_
|
shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it."<|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"</|quote|>"I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy
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to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it."<|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"</|quote|>"I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned
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now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it."<|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"</|quote|>"I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging
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stung kept to his hammock, groaning loudly and constantly asking for medicine. On the sixth day the Indians began to appear. They shook hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it."<|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"</|quote|>"I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were
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relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it."<|quote|>"It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"</|quote|>"I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I shall be."
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Brenda
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likes me. Who'll be there?"<|quote|>"I shall be."</|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you
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house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"<|quote|>"I shall be."</|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you
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you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"<|quote|>"I shall be."</|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."
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with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"<|quote|>"I shall be."</|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and
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you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"<|quote|>"I shall be."</|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen
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up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"<|quote|>"I shall be."</|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles
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sixth day the Indians began to appear. They shook hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"<|quote|>"I shall be."</|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and
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for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?"<|quote|>"I shall be."</|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Yes... well, I'll let you know."
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John Beaver
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be there?" "I shall be."<|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Am I seeing you this
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think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be."<|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know."
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to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be."<|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the
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good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be."<|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I
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Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be."<|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some
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will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be."<|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do
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Indians began to appear. They shook hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be."<|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they
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as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be."<|quote|>"Yes... well, I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Am I seeing you this evening?"
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Brenda
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well, I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?"</|quote|>"I'll let you know." "Oh
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there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?"</|quote|>"I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she
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me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?"</|quote|>"I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across
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"So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?"</|quote|>"I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three
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them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?"</|quote|>"I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day
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how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?"</|quote|>"I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less;
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hands all round and then retired to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?"</|quote|>"I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry
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naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Am I seeing you this evening?"</|quote|>"I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"I'll let you know."
|
John Beaver
|
I seeing you this evening?"<|quote|>"I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Oh dear," said Brenda as
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I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?"<|quote|>"I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's
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it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?"<|quote|>"I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in
|
Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?"<|quote|>"I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers
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had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?"<|quote|>"I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she
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memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?"<|quote|>"I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went
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to the margin of the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?"<|quote|>"I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers,
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Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?"<|quote|>"I'll let you know."</|quote|>"Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Oh dear,"
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Brenda
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evening?" "I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Oh dear,"</|quote|>said Brenda as she rang
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"Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Oh dear,"</|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against
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want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Oh dear,"</|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown
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I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Oh dear,"</|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so
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"Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Oh dear,"</|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two
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school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Oh dear,"</|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front
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the bush where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Oh dear,"</|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked
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a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know."<|quote|>"Oh dear,"</|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without
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A Handful Of Dust
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said Brenda as she rang off.
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No speaker
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let you know." "Oh dear,"<|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off.</|quote|>"Now he's taken against me.
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seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear,"<|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off.</|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he
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come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear,"<|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off.</|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together.
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He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear,"<|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off.</|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this
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was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear,"<|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off.</|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at
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back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear,"<|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off.</|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended
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where they stood gazing at the camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear,"<|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off.</|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number
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saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear,"<|quote|>said Brenda as she rang off.</|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight,
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."
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Brenda
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Brenda as she rang off.<|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."</|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in
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you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off.<|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."</|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She
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"I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off.<|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."</|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and
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chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off.<|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."</|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet
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I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off.<|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."</|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party
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words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off.<|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."</|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour
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camp equipment. Tony tried to photograph them but they ran away giggling like schoolgirls. Dr Messinger spread out on the ground the goods he had bought for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off.<|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."</|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper
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of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off.<|quote|>"Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."</|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said
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A Handful Of Dust
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Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.
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No speaker
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Reggie _did_ try to help."<|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.</|quote|>"Let's go and have a
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matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."<|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.</|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"
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"Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."<|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.</|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony?
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to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."<|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.</|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for
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as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."<|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.</|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can
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[III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."<|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.</|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We
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for barter. They retired at sundown but on the seventh day they came again, greatly reinforced. The entire population of the village was there. Rosa sat down on Tony's hammock under the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."<|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.</|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the
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carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help."<|quote|>Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.</|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right,"
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"
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Jenny Abdul Akbar
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was of striped Berber silk.<|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"</|quote|>she said. "The Ritz isn't
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the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.<|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"</|quote|>she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it
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my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.<|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"</|quote|>she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of
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like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.<|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"</|quote|>she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny
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at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.<|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"</|quote|>she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds.
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"Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.<|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"</|quote|>she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced
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the thatch roof. "Give me cigarettes," she said. "You tell them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.<|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"</|quote|>she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them
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relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk.<|quote|>"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"</|quote|>she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through
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A Handful Of Dust
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she said.
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No speaker
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cosy lunch at the Ritz,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at
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"Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight
|
of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony?
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Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back
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will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God
|
is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction
|
them I want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted
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would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where
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A Handful Of Dust
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"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."
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Brenda
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at the Ritz," she said.<|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."</|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to
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and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said.<|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."</|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like
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I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said.<|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."</|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't
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me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said.<|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."</|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this
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up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said.<|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."</|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At
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the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said.<|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."</|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value."
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want men to go Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. "Pie-wie bad people. Macushi people no go with Pie-wie people." "You say I want ten men. I give them guns." "You give me cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said.<|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."</|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general,
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mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said.<|quote|>"The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."</|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water
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A Handful Of Dust
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"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."
|
Jenny Abdul Akbar
|
never been like this before."<|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."</|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of
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lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."<|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."</|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose
|
dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."<|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."</|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think
|
he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."<|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."</|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he
|
last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."<|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."</|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a
|
never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."<|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."</|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two
|
cigarettes..." Negotiations lasted for two days. Eventually twelve men agreed to come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."<|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."</|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in
|
of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before."<|quote|>"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."</|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."
|
Brenda
|
Leaving you stranded like this."<|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."</|quote|>"I hear they are putting
|
wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."<|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."</|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you
|
cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."<|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."</|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would
|
into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."<|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."</|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If
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know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."<|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."</|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you
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but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."<|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."</|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?"
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come; seven of them insisted on bringing their wives with them. One of these was Rosa. When everything was arranged there was a party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."<|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."</|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly
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to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this."<|quote|>"Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."</|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."
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Jenny Abdul Akbar
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Brazil or wherever it is."<|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."</|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that
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packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."<|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."</|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went
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cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."<|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."</|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a
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She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."<|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."</|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always
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them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."<|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."</|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal
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are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."<|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."</|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._"
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party in the village and all the Indians got drunk again. This time, however, it was a shorter business as the women had not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."<|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."</|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to
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behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is."<|quote|>"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."</|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."
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Brenda
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to Mrs Beaver for them."<|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."</|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to
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And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."<|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."</|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a
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you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."<|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."</|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie
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go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."<|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."</|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make
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it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."<|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."</|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * *
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back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."<|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."</|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's
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not had time to prepare much cassiri. In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."<|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."</|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and
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as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them."<|quote|>"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."</|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running
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A Handful Of Dust
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Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.
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No speaker
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_do_ think that was mean."<|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.</|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki,"
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Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."<|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.</|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to
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good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."<|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.</|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for
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the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."<|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.</|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think
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don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."<|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.</|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart
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"Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."<|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.</|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load;
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In three days the caravan was able to set out. One of the men had a long, single-barrelled, muzzle-loading gun; several others carried bows and arrows; they were naked except for red cotton cloths round their loins. The women wore grubby calico dresses--they had been issued to them years back by an itinerant preacher and kept for occasions of this kind; they had wicker panniers on their shoulders, supported by a band across the forehead. All the heaviest luggage was carried by the women in these panniers, including the rations for themselves and their men. Rosa had, in addition, an umbrella with a dented, silver crook, a relic of her association with Mr Forbes. The Negroes returned downstream to the coast. A dump of provisions, in substantial tin casing, was left in the ruinous shelter by the bank. "There's no one to touch it. We can send back for it in case of emergency from the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."<|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.</|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were
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the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean."<|quote|>Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.</|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana,
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"I got Polly and Souki,"
|
Jenny Abdul Akbar
|
dressed for a cosy lunch.<|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki,"</|quote|>she said. "We're going to
|
had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.<|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki,"</|quote|>she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you
|
the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.<|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki,"</|quote|>she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen
|
The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.<|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki,"</|quote|>she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every
|
don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.<|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki,"</|quote|>she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical
|
"I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.<|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki,"</|quote|>she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them
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the Pie-wie country," said Dr Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.<|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki,"</|quote|>she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was
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does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch.<|quote|>"I got Polly and Souki,"</|quote|>she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry
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A Handful Of Dust
|
she said.
|
No speaker
|
"I got Polly and Souki,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint.
|
dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."
|
corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a
|
party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from
|
packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is
|
going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up
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Messinger. Tony and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they
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that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the
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A Handful Of Dust
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"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."
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Jenny Abdul Akbar
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Polly and Souki," she said.<|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."</|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right,"
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a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said.<|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."</|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought,
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was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said.<|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."</|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much
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night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said.<|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."</|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early
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fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said.<|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."</|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked
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make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said.<|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."</|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and
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and Dr Messinger walked immediately behind the man with the gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said.<|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."</|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot
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fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said.<|quote|>"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."</|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Me? Oh, I'm all right,"
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Brenda
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I _wish_ you were coming."<|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right,"</|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought,
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"We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."<|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right,"</|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her
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it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."<|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right,"</|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went
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there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."<|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right,"</|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last
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they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."<|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right,"</|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him
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does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."<|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right,"</|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again,
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gun who was acting as guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."<|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right,"</|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and
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I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming."<|quote|>"Me? Oh, I'm all right,"</|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the
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A Handful Of Dust
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said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"
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No speaker
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"Me? Oh, I'm all right,"<|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"</|quote|>"We are now in the
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I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right,"<|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"</|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he
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would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right,"<|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"</|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through
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be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right,"<|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"</|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This
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at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right,"<|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"</|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet;
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want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right,"<|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"</|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from
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guide; behind them the file straggled out for half a mile or more through the forest. "From now onwards the map is valueless to us," said Dr Messinger with relish. (Roll up the map--you will not need it again for how many years, said William Pitt... memories of Tony's private school came back to him at Dr Messinger's words, of inky little desks and a coloured picture of a Viking raid, of Mr Trotter who had taught him history and wore very vivid ties.) [III] "Mummy, Brenda wants a job." "Why?" "Just like everybody else, short of money and nothing to do. She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right,"<|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"</|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all
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are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right,"<|quote|>said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"</|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy."
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A Handful Of Dust
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"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"
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Dr Messinger
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three deserted huts, stony ground...._"<|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"</|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one
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elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"<|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"</|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water
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Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"<|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"</|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately
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a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"<|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"</|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's
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can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"<|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"</|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the
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silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"<|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"</|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish
|
shop." "Well... It's hard to say. At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"<|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"</|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The
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it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._"<|quote|>"We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"</|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable
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A Handful Of Dust
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he announced with satisfaction one day.
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No speaker
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the Amazon system of rivers,"<|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day.</|quote|>"You see, the water is
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ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"<|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day.</|quote|>"You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately
|
gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"<|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day.</|quote|>"You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began
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* * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"<|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day.</|quote|>"You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they
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all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"<|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day.</|quote|>"You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew
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the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"<|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day.</|quote|>"You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight
|
time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"<|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day.</|quote|>"You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in
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elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,"<|quote|>he announced with satisfaction one day.</|quote|>"You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."
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A Handful Of Dust
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"You see, the water is running south."
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Dr Messinger
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announced with satisfaction one day.<|quote|>"You see, the water is running south."</|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed
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Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day.<|quote|>"You see, the water is running south."</|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the
|
He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day.<|quote|>"You see, the water is running south."</|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there
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fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day.<|quote|>"You see, the water is running south."</|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way
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little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day.<|quote|>"You see, the water is running south."</|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low
|
isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day.<|quote|>"You see, the water is running south."</|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day
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of saleswoman I am always looking for... but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day.<|quote|>"You see, the water is running south."</|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no
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support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day.<|quote|>"You see, the water is running south."</|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.
|
No speaker
|
the water is running south."<|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.</|quote|>"Very curious," said Dr Messinger.
|
satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south."<|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.</|quote|>"Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific
|
aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south."<|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.</|quote|>"Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people
|
Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south."<|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.</|quote|>"Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by
|
reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south."<|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.</|quote|>"Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through
|
eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south."<|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.</|quote|>"Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and
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but I don't know. _As things are_, I'm not sure it would be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south."<|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.</|quote|>"Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of
|
hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south."<|quote|>But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.</|quote|>"Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"Very curious,"
|
Dr Messinger
|
flowing in the opposite direction.<|quote|>"Very curious,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "A discovery
|
immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.<|quote|>"Very curious,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next
|
the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.<|quote|>"Very curious,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him
|
who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.<|quote|>"Very curious,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only
|
long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.<|quote|>"Very curious,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they
|
The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.<|quote|>"Very curious,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores,
|
be wise." "I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.<|quote|>"Very curious,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil
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lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.<|quote|>"Very curious,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
said Dr Messinger.
|
No speaker
|
the opposite direction. "Very curious,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific
|
crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded
|
hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not
|
in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and
|
would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and
|
are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter
|
"I said I'd ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the
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reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke
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A Handful Of Dust
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"A discovery of genuine scientific value."
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Dr Messinger
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"Very curious," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value."</|quote|>Next day they waded through
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flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value."</|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of
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in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value."</|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped.
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the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value."</|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course;
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going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value."</|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind
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I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value."</|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general,
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ask you, that's all." "John, you never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value."</|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting
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they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"A discovery of genuine scientific value."</|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives
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A Handful Of Dust
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Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.
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No speaker
|
discovery of genuine scientific value."<|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.</|quote|>"Is there a name for
|
curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value."<|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.</|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?" he
|
three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value."<|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.</|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced
|
water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value."<|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.</|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their
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one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value."<|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.</|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came
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"What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value."<|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.</|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack
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never tell me _anything_ and I don't like to seem interfering; but what _is_ going to happen between you and Brenda?" "I don't know." "You never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value."<|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.</|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short
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store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value."<|quote|>Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.</|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes,
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Is there a name for any of these streams?"
|
Dr Messinger
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to have a mythical appearance.<|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?"</|quote|>he asked Rosa. "Macushi people
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and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.<|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?"</|quote|>he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not
|
running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.<|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?"</|quote|>he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was
|
from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.<|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?"</|quote|>he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was
|
said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.<|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?"</|quote|>he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the
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of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.<|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?"</|quote|>he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly
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never tell me _anything_," repeated Mrs Beaver. "And there are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.<|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?"</|quote|>he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of
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costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance.<|quote|>"Is there a name for any of these streams?"</|quote|>he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the
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A Handful Of Dust
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he asked Rosa.
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No speaker
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for any of these streams?"<|quote|>he asked Rosa.</|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang."
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appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?"<|quote|>he asked Rosa.</|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where
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flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?"<|quote|>he asked Rosa.</|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and
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halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?"<|quote|>he asked Rosa.</|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in
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were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?"<|quote|>he asked Rosa.</|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they
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"I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?"<|quote|>he asked Rosa.</|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had
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are so many rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?"<|quote|>he asked Rosa.</|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a
|
going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?"<|quote|>he asked Rosa.</|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"Macushi people called him Waurupang."
|
Rosa
|
these streams?" he asked Rosa.<|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang."</|quote|>"No, not the river where
|
a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa.<|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang."</|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"
|
opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa.<|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang."</|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian
|
he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa.<|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang."</|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they
|
Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa.<|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang."</|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending
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are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa.<|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang."</|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down
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rumours going round. Is there going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa.<|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang."</|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger
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Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa.<|quote|>"Macushi people called him Waurupang."</|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"
|
Dr Messinger
|
"Macushi people called him Waurupang."<|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"</|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._"
|
these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang."<|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"</|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all
|
Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang."<|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"</|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they
|
of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang."<|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"</|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that
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Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang."<|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"</|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony
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Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang."<|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"</|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after
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going to be a divorce?" "I don't know." Mrs Beaver sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang."<|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"</|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly
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had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang."<|quote|>"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"</|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Yes, Waurupang."
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Rosa
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we first camped. _These rivers._"<|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang."</|quote|>"_This river here._" "Macushi people
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"No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"<|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang."</|quote|>"_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's
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they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"<|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang."</|quote|>"_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little
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huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"<|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang."</|quote|>"_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their
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sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"<|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang."</|quote|>"_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr
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to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"<|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang."</|quote|>"_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks
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sighed. "Well, I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"<|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang."</|quote|>"_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an
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going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._"<|quote|>"Yes, Waurupang."</|quote|>"_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general,
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A Handful Of Dust
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"_This river here._"
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Dr Messinger
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camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang."<|quote|>"_This river here._"</|quote|>"Macushi people call him all
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the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang."<|quote|>"_This river here._"</|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr
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through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang."<|quote|>"_This river here._"</|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry
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ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang."<|quote|>"_This river here._"</|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these
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girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang."<|quote|>"_This river here._"</|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke
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Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang."<|quote|>"_This river here._"</|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to
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I must get back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang."<|quote|>"_This river here._"</|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even
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I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang."<|quote|>"_This river here._"</|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"Macushi people call him all Waurupang."
|
Rosa
|
"Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._"<|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang."</|quote|>"It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger.
|
we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._"<|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang."</|quote|>"It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water
|
at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._"<|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang."</|quote|>"It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts
|
now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._"<|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang."</|quote|>"It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in
|
once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._"<|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang."</|quote|>"It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they
|
"Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._"<|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang."</|quote|>"It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep
|
back to work. Where are you lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._"<|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang."</|quote|>"It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get
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Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._"<|quote|>"Macushi people call him all Waurupang."</|quote|>"It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"It's hopeless,"
|
Dr Messinger
|
people call him all Waurupang."<|quote|>"It's hopeless,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they
|
Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang."<|quote|>"It's hopeless,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced
|
alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang."<|quote|>"It's hopeless,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the
|
rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang."<|quote|>"It's hopeless,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind
|
* * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang."<|quote|>"It's hopeless,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching
|
mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang."<|quote|>"It's hopeless,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift
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lunching?" "Bratt's." "Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang."<|quote|>"It's hopeless,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the
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like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang."<|quote|>"It's hopeless,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at
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A Handful Of Dust
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said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *
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No speaker
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him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *</|quote|>"John, I think it's time
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river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *</|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A
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and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *</|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like
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announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *</|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to
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* They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *</|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their
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Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *</|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men
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"Poor John. By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's." "I haven't heard anything from them. I don't know whether they've had an election yet." "Your father was a member." "I've an idea I shan't get in... anyway I couldn't really afford it." "I'm not happy about you, John. I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas-time." "There's my telephone. Perhaps it's Margot. She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks." But it was only Brenda. "I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop," he said. "Oh well. I expect something will turn up. I could do with a little good luck just at the moment." "So could I. Have you asked Allan about Brown's?" "Yes, I did. He says they elected about ten chaps last week." "Oh, does that mean I've been blackballed?" "I shouldn't know. Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs." "I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me." "I asked them. What does it matter anyway? D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?" "I'm not sure that I do." "_I'd_ like it." "It's a beastly little house--and I don't think Veronica likes me. Who'll be there?" "I shall be." "Yes... well, I'll let you know." "Am I seeing you this evening?" "I'll let you know." "Oh dear," said Brenda as she rang off. "Now he's taken against me. It isn't my fault he can't get into Brown's. As a matter of fact I believe Reggie _did_ try to help." Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her. She came across every morning now in her dressing-gown and they read the newspaper together. Her dressing-gown was of striped Berber silk. "Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz," she said. "The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch-time and it costs eight and six. I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny. The lawyers are so disagreeable. I've never been like this before." "What wouldn't I do to Tony? Leaving you stranded like this." "Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony? I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is." "I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton--while you are practically starving. And he hasn't even gone to Mrs Beaver for them." "Yes, I _do_ think that was mean." Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches. She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time. Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *</|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at
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have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *</|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream
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A Handful Of Dust
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"John, I think it's time you had a holiday."
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Mrs Beaver
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* * * * *<|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday."</|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?"
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infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *<|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday."</|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to
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after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *<|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday."</|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've
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smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *<|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday."</|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like
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they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *<|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday."</|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred
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they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *<|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday."</|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received
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Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *<|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday."</|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried
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of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * *<|quote|>"John, I think it's time you had a holiday."</|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro.
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A Handful Of Dust
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"A holiday what from, mumsy?"
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John Beaver
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time you had a holiday."<|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?"</|quote|>"A change... I'm going to
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* "John, I think it's time you had a holiday."<|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?"</|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the
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more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday."<|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?"</|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of
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in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday."<|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?"</|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was
|
the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday."<|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?"</|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the
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growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday."<|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?"</|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast
|
he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday."<|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?"</|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and
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the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday."<|quote|>"A holiday what from, mumsy?"</|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another
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A Handful Of Dust
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"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."
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Mrs Beaver
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"A holiday what from, mumsy?"<|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."</|quote|>"Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like
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time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?"<|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."</|quote|>"Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes,
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to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?"<|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."</|quote|>"Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the
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last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?"<|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."</|quote|>"Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves
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They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?"<|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."</|quote|>"Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this
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baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?"<|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."</|quote|>"Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could
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have her to dinner. The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked. "If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up... Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?"<|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."</|quote|>"Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held
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in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?"<|quote|>"A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."</|quote|>"Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin.
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"Yes, mumsy."
|
John Beaver
|
good to come with me."<|quote|>"Yes, mumsy."</|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't
|
think it would do you good to come with me."<|quote|>"Yes, mumsy."</|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like
|
* * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."<|quote|>"Yes, mumsy."</|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it
|
of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."<|quote|>"Yes, mumsy."</|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they
|
up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."<|quote|>"Yes, mumsy."</|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but
|
wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."<|quote|>"Yes, mumsy."</|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the
|
to think of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."<|quote|>"Yes, mumsy."</|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open
|
asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me."<|quote|>"Yes, mumsy."</|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"
|
Mrs Beaver
|
come with me." "Yes, mumsy."<|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"</|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it."
|
would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy."<|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"</|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way
|
* * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy."<|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"</|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they
|
stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy."<|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"</|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and
|
the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy."<|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"</|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats
|
loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy."<|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"</|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped
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of it, Marjorie's probably going. Well, I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy."<|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"</|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts.
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opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy."<|quote|>"You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"</|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Me? Yes, I'd like it."
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John Beaver
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_would_ like it, wouldn't you?"<|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it."</|quote|>"You've picked up that way
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with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"<|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it."</|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It
|
it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"<|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it."</|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh
|
they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"<|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it."</|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under
|
from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"<|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it."</|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and
|
feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"<|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it."</|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would
|
I can always have sandwiches for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"<|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it."</|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open,
|
and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?"<|quote|>"Me? Yes, I'd like it."</|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."
|
Mrs Beaver
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"Me? Yes, I'd like it."<|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."</|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy." "All right then,
|
_would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it."<|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."</|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * *
|
holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it."<|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."</|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was
|
once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it."<|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."</|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them
|
women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it."<|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."</|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said
|
they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it."<|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."</|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile
|
for dinner here. They make all kinds. Thank God for the little shop round the corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it."<|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."</|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully
|
rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it."<|quote|>"You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."</|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"Sorry, mumsy."
|
John Beaver
|
sounds ridiculous in a man."<|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy."</|quote|>"All right then, that's settled."
|
of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."<|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy."</|quote|>"All right then, that's settled." * * * * *
|
the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."<|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy."</|quote|>"All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they
|
Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."<|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy."</|quote|>"All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy
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stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."<|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy."</|quote|>"All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was
|
from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."<|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy."</|quote|>"All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were
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corner." She was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."<|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy."</|quote|>"All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it
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streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man."<|quote|>"Sorry, mumsy."</|quote|>"All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark
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A Handful Of Dust
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"All right then, that's settled."
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Mrs Beaver
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in a man." "Sorry, mumsy."<|quote|>"All right then, that's settled."</|quote|>* * * * *
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from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy."<|quote|>"All right then, that's settled."</|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly
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Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy."<|quote|>"All right then, that's settled."</|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting
|
and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy."<|quote|>"All right then, that's settled."</|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was
|
day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy."<|quote|>"All right then, that's settled."</|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger
|
low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy."<|quote|>"All right then, that's settled."</|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This
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was reading a biography of Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy."<|quote|>"All right then, that's settled."</|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or
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Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy."<|quote|>"All right then, that's settled."</|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper
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A Handful Of Dust
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* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.
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No speaker
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"All right then, that's settled."<|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.</|quote|>"We can't go on breaking
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in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled."<|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.</|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr
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who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled."<|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.</|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians
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place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled."<|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.</|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr
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eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled."<|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.</|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took
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other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled."<|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.</|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men
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Nelson that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night. At one o'clock Jenny came in to say good-bye (she had a latch-key of Brenda's), dressed for a cosy lunch. "I got Polly and Souki," she said. "We're going to Daisy's joint. I _wish_ you were coming." "Me? Oh, I'm all right," said Brenda, and she thought, "It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way." * * * * * They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day. Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits. Dr Messinger made a compass traverse of their route. It gave him something to think about. He took readings every hour from an aneroid. In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. "_Dry watercourse, three deserted huts, stony ground...._" "We are now in the Amazon system of rivers," he announced with satisfaction one day. "You see, the water is running south." But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction. "Very curious," said Dr Messinger. "A discovery of genuine scientific value." Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately north and south. The chart began to have a mythical appearance. "Is there a name for any of these streams?" he asked Rosa. "Macushi people called him Waurupang." "No, not the river where we first camped. _These rivers._" "Yes, Waurupang." "_This river here._" "Macushi people call him all Waurupang." "It's hopeless," said Dr Messinger. When they were near water they forced their way through blind bush; the trail there was grown over and barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled."<|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.</|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face
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grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled."<|quote|>* * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.</|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball
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A Handful Of Dust
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"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"
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Dr Messinger
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kept in case of emergency.<|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The
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for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.<|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and
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bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.<|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They
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afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.<|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco
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as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.<|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one
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Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.<|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin
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barred by timber; only Indian eyes and Indian memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.<|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the
|
was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency.<|quote|>"We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
said Dr Messinger peevishly.
|
No speaker
|
on breaking into tinned stores,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly.</|quote|>"The men must go out
|
of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly.</|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something." But they
|
he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly.</|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks
|
people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly.</|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro.
|
the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly.</|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in
|
clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly.</|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up
|
memory could trace its course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly.</|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood
|
hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger peevishly.</|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"The men must go out and shoot something."
|
Dr Messinger
|
stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly.<|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something."</|quote|>But they received the orders
|
go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly.<|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something."</|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and
|
measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly.<|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something."</|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank;
|
lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly.<|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something."</|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the
|
aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly.<|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something."</|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing
|
* * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly.<|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something."</|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which
|
course; sometimes they crossed little patches of dry savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly.<|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something."</|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of
|
them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly.<|quote|>"The men must go out and shoot something."</|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle
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A Handful Of Dust
|
But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.
|
No speaker
|
go out and shoot something."<|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.</|quote|>"No birds, no animals here,"
|
Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something."<|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.</|quote|>"No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe
|
so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something."<|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.</|quote|>"No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that
|
During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something."<|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.</|quote|>"No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the
|
in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something."<|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.</|quote|>"No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding
|
had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something."<|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.</|quote|>"No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to
|
savannah, dun grass growing in tufts from the baked earth; thousands of lizards scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something."<|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.</|quote|>"No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of
|
mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something."<|quote|>But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.</|quote|>"No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores,
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"No birds, no animals here,"
|
Rosa
|
faces and remained in camp.<|quote|>"No birds, no animals here,"</|quote|>explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe
|
the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.<|quote|>"No birds, no animals here,"</|quote|>explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But
|
and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.<|quote|>"No birds, no animals here,"</|quote|>explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there
|
the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.<|quote|>"No birds, no animals here,"</|quote|>explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the
|
passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.<|quote|>"No birds, no animals here,"</|quote|>explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women.
|
California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.<|quote|>"No birds, no animals here,"</|quote|>explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop
|
scampered and darted before their feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.<|quote|>"No birds, no animals here,"</|quote|>explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and
|
to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp.<|quote|>"No birds, no animals here,"</|quote|>explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
explained Rosa.
|
No speaker
|
"No birds, no animals here,"<|quote|>explained Rosa.</|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get
|
faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here,"<|quote|>explained Rosa.</|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians
|
rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here,"<|quote|>explained Rosa.</|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes
|
of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here,"<|quote|>explained Rosa.</|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie
|
when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here,"<|quote|>explained Rosa.</|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the
|
Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here,"<|quote|>explained Rosa.</|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope.
|
feet and the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here,"<|quote|>explained Rosa.</|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund
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picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here,"<|quote|>explained Rosa.</|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open
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A Handful Of Dust
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"All gone. Maybe they get some fish."
|
Rosa
|
no animals here," explained Rosa.<|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish."</|quote|>But the Indians could not
|
remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa.<|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish."</|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves.
|
for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa.<|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish."</|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon
|
bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa.<|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish."</|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get
|
would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa.<|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish."</|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the
|
Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa.<|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish."</|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it
|
the grass rustled like newspaper; it was burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa.<|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish."</|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy
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sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa.<|quote|>"All gone. Maybe they get some fish."</|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a
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A Handful Of Dust
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But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.
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No speaker
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Maybe they get some fish."<|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.</|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water,"
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here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish."<|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.</|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably
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case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish."<|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.</|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will
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sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish."<|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.</|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the
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dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish."<|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.</|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they
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Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish."<|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.</|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch
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burning hot in these enclosed spaces. Sometimes they climbed up into the wind, over loose red pebbles that bruised their feet; after these painful ascents they would lie in the wind till their wet clothes grew cold against their bodies; from these low eminences they could see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish."<|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.</|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village.
|
this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish."<|quote|>But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.</|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine.
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"This is clearly Amazon water,"
|
Dr Messinger
|
were canoes to be built.<|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "It probably
|
had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.<|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco
|
they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.<|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."
|
which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.<|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives;
|
Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.<|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they
|
settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.<|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then
|
see other hill-tops and the belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.<|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When
|
come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built.<|quote|>"This is clearly Amazon water,"</|quote|>said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
said Dr Messinger.
|
No speaker
|
"This is clearly Amazon water,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"It probably flows into the
|
were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio
|
the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were
|
of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another
|
they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once
|
* At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set
|
belts of bush through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie
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cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water,"<|quote|>said Dr Messinger.</|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men
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A Handful Of Dust
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"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."
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Dr Messinger
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Amazon water," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."</|quote|>The canoes were made of
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be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."</|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent
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not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."</|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives;
|
can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."</|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding
|
of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."</|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little
|
the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."</|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was
|
through which they had travelled, and the file of porters trailing behind them. As each man and woman arrived he sank on to the dry grass and rested against his load; when the last of them came up with the party Dr Messinger would give the word and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."</|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men
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sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger.<|quote|>"It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."</|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And
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A Handful Of Dust
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The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,
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No speaker
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be able to get guides."<|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,</|quote|>"When will the boats be
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first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."<|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,</|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And
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said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."<|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,</|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the
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the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."<|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,</|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice,
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and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."<|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,</|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had.
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dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."<|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,</|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then
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and they would start off again, descending into the green heart of the forest before them. Tony and Dr Messinger seldom spoke to one another, either when they were marching or at the halts, for they were constantly strained and exhausted. In the evenings after they had washed and changed into dry shirts and flannel trousers, they talked a little, mostly about the number of miles they had done that day, their probable position and the state of their feet. They drank rum and water after their bath; for supper there was usually bully beef stewed with rice and flour dumplings. The Indians ate farine, smoked hog and occasional delicacies picked up by the way--armadillo, iguana, fat white grubs from the palm trees. The women had some dried fish with them that lasted for eight days; the smell grew stronger every day until the stuff was eaten; then it still hung about them and the stores, but grew fainter until it merged into the general, indefinable smell of the camp. There were no Indians living in this country. In the last five days of the march they suffered from lack of water. The streams they came to were mostly dry; they had to reconnoitre up and down their beds in search of tepid, stagnant puddles. But after two weeks they came to a river once more, flowing deep and swift to the south-east. This was the border of the Pie-wie country and Dr Messinger marked the place where they stopped Second Base Camp. The cabouri fly infested this stream in clouds. * * * * * "John, I think it's time you had a holiday." "A holiday what from, mumsy?" "A change... I'm going to California in July. To the Fischbaums--Mrs Arnold Fischbaum, not the one who lives in Paris. I think it would do you good to come with me." "Yes, mumsy." "You _would_ like it, wouldn't you?" "Me? Yes, I'd like it." "You've picked up that way of talking from Brenda. It sounds ridiculous in a man." "Sorry, mumsy." "All right then, that's settled." * * * * * At sunset the cabouri fly disappeared. Until then, through the day, it was necessary to keep covered; they settled on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."<|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,</|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the
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fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides."<|quote|>The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,</|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country.
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A Handful Of Dust
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"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."
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Dr Messinger
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day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,<|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."</|quote|>And she replied, "Just now."
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was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,<|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."</|quote|>And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No,
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ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,<|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."</|quote|>And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were
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cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,<|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."</|quote|>And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men.
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tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,<|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."</|quote|>And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished
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and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,<|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."</|quote|>And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke.
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on any exposed flesh like house-flies upon jam; it was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,<|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."</|quote|>And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men
|
and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa,<|quote|>"When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."</|quote|>And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
And she replied,
|
No speaker
|
be ready? Ask the men."<|quote|>And she replied,</|quote|>"Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how
|
Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."<|quote|>And she replied,</|quote|>"Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats
|
as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."<|quote|>And she replied,</|quote|>"Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in
|
and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."<|quote|>And she replied,</|quote|>"Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would
|
thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."<|quote|>And she replied,</|quote|>"Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles.
|
of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."<|quote|>And she replied,</|quote|>"Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no
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was only when they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."<|quote|>And she replied,</|quote|>"Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in
|
peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men."<|quote|>And she replied,</|quote|>"Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"Just now."
|
Rosa
|
the men." And she replied,<|quote|>"Just now."</|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No,
|
the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied,<|quote|>"Just now."</|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just
|
them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied,<|quote|>"Just now."</|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats
|
fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied,<|quote|>"Just now."</|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold
|
dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied,<|quote|>"Just now."</|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the
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one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied,<|quote|>"Just now."</|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with
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they were gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied,<|quote|>"Just now."</|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others
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off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied,<|quote|>"Just now."</|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across
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A Handful Of Dust
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"How many days--four?--five?--how many?"
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Dr Messinger
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And she replied, "Just now."<|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?"</|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish
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be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now."<|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?"</|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when
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(when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now."<|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?"</|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with
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to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now."<|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?"</|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and
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wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now."<|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?"</|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of
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the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now."<|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?"</|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am
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gorged that their bite was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now."<|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?"</|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come
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There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now."<|quote|>"How many days--four?--five?--how many?"</|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God,"
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A Handful Of Dust
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"No, not many. Boats finish just now."
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Rosa
|
now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?"<|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now."</|quote|>At last when it was
|
men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?"<|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now."</|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was
|
fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?"<|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now."</|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera,
|
a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?"<|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now."</|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little
|
and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?"<|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now."</|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were
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reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?"<|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now."</|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie
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was perceptible; they left behind a crimson, smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?"<|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now."</|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here.
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dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?"<|quote|>"No, not many. Boats finish just now."</|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones
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A Handful Of Dust
|
At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.
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No speaker
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many. Boats finish just now."<|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.</|quote|>"We shall take eight men
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many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now."<|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.</|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay
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or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now."<|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.</|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much
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woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now."<|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.</|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the
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solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now."<|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.</|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy
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be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now."<|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.</|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats,
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smarting circle with a black dot at its centre. Tony and Dr Messinger wore cotton gloves which they had brought for the purpose, and muslin veils, hanging down under their hats. Later they employed two women to squat beside their hammocks and fan them with leafy boughs; the slightest breeze was enough to disperse the flies, but as soon as Tony and Dr Messinger dozed the women would lay aside their work, and they woke instantly, stung in a hundred places. The Indians bore the insects as cows bear horse-flies; passively with occasional fretful outbursts when they would slap their shoulders and thighs. After dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now."<|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.</|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry,
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could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now."<|quote|>At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.</|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * *
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A Handful Of Dust
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"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."
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Dr Messinger
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little way up the bank.<|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."</|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa
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"emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.<|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."</|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as
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and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.<|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."</|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils
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was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.<|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."</|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face
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was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.<|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."</|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach
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surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.<|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."</|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come
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dark there was some relief, for there were few mosquitoes at this camp, but they could hear the vampire bats all night long nuzzling and flapping against their netting. The Indians would not go hunting in this forest. They said there was no game, but Dr Messinger said it was because they were afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.<|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."</|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when
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the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank.<|quote|>"We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."</|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"
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Tony Last
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be much use to them."<|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"</|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I
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is nothing here that would be much use to them."<|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"</|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening
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eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."<|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"</|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part
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luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."<|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"</|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a
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set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."<|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"</|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other
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once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."<|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"</|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr
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afraid of the evil spirits of the Pie-wie people. Provisions were not lasting as well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."<|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"</|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them."
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and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them."<|quote|>"Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"</|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."
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Dr Messinger
|
as interpreter with the Macushis?"<|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."</|quote|>That evening everything was finished
|
Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"<|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."</|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the
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camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"<|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."</|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.
|
the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"<|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."</|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high
|
Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"<|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."</|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country.
|
was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"<|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."</|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it
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well as Dr Messinger had calculated. During the march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"<|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."</|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The
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to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?"<|quote|>"Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."</|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half
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A Handful Of Dust
|
That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.
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No speaker
|
had. I will tell her."<|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.</|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to
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the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."<|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.</|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river
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will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."<|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.</|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high
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the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."<|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.</|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost
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be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."<|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.</|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered
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into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."<|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.</|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in
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march it had been difficult to keep a proper guard over the stores. They were short of a bag of farine, half a bag of sugar and a bag of rice. Dr Messinger instituted careful rationing; he served them himself, measuring everything strictly in an enamel cup; even so, the women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."<|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.</|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice
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It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her."<|quote|>That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.</|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"
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Dr Messinger
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where they ate and slept.<|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face
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the part of the camp where they ate and slept.<|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from
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That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.<|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton
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will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.<|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come
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groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.<|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the
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was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.<|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and
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women managed to get to the sugar behind his back. He and Tony had finished the rum, except for one bottle which was kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.<|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi
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about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept.<|quote|>"Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward
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A Handful Of Dust
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Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.
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No speaker
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talk to the men. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.</|quote|>"Understand?" But still she said
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need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.</|quote|>"Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be
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discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.</|quote|>"Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we
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be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.</|quote|>"Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take
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trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.</|quote|>"Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give
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fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.</|quote|>"Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them
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kept in case of emergency. "We can't go on breaking into tinned stores," said Dr Messinger peevishly. "The men must go out and shoot something." But they received the orders with expressionless, downcast faces and remained in camp. "No birds, no animals here," explained Rosa. "All gone. Maybe they get some fish." But the Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.</|quote|>"Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig
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constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.</|quote|>"Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"Understand?"
|
Dr Messinger
|
cotton gown, bandy brown legs.<|quote|>"Understand?"</|quote|>But still she said nothing;
|
rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.<|quote|>"Understand?"</|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking
|
face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.<|quote|>"Understand?"</|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach
|
veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.<|quote|>"Understand?"</|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us
|
take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.<|quote|>"Understand?"</|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you
|
easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.<|quote|>"Understand?"</|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at
|
Indians could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.<|quote|>"Understand?"</|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the
|
their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs.<|quote|>"Understand?"</|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.
|
No speaker
|
gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?"<|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.</|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and
|
body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?"<|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.</|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in
|
was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?"<|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.</|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At
|
that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?"<|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.</|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp
|
eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?"<|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.</|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you.
|
matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?"<|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.</|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig
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could not be persuaded to exert themselves. They could see the sacks and bales of food heaped on the bank; it would be plenty of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?"<|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.</|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out
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wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?"<|quote|>But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.</|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"
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Dr Messinger
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eyes were lost in shadow.<|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"</|quote|>At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi
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the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.<|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"</|quote|>At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie
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her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.<|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"</|quote|>At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the
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have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.<|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"</|quote|>At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible,
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easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.<|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"</|quote|>At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in
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up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.<|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"</|quote|>At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you
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of time to start hunting and fishing when that had been exhausted. Meanwhile there were canoes to be built. "This is clearly Amazon water," said Dr Messinger. "It probably flows into the Rio Branco or the Rio Negro. The Pie-wies live along the bank, and the City, from all accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.<|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"</|quote|>At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent
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their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow.<|quote|>"Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"</|quote|>At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks
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A Handful Of Dust
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At last Rosa spoke.
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No speaker
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back to Macushi country. Understand?"<|quote|>At last Rosa spoke.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with
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other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"<|quote|>At last Rosa spoke.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not
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shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"<|quote|>At last Rosa spoke.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road
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hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"<|quote|>At last Rosa spoke.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived
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evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"<|quote|>At last Rosa spoke.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give
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ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"<|quote|>At last Rosa spoke.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men
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accounts, must be downstream of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"<|quote|>At last Rosa spoke.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid
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by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?"<|quote|>At last Rosa spoke.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger.
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."
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Rosa
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Understand?" At last Rosa spoke.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"I am not asking you
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Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people.
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women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs
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ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes.
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except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward
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And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here.
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of us, up one of the tributaries. When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid combs set with glass jewels, mirrors, pocket
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are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind
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A Handful Of Dust
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"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"
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Dr Messinger
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no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in
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last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered
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camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples
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along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.
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hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats
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days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats,"
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When we reach the first Pie-wie village we will be able to get guides." The canoes were made of woodskin. Three days were spent in finding trees of suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid combs set with glass jewels, mirrors, pocket knives with embossed aluminium handles, ribbons and necklaces and barter of more solid worth in the form of axe heads, brass cartridge cases and flat, red flasks of
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was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"</|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her
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A Handful Of Dust
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Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.
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No speaker
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back to Macushi people. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples there," she said.
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as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other
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to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like
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heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said
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the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner.
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sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day
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suitable age and straightness and in felling them. They cut four trees and worked on them where they lay, clearing the bush for a few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid combs set with glass jewels, mirrors, pocket knives with embossed aluminium handles, ribbons and necklaces and barter of more solid worth in the form of axe heads, brass cartridge cases and flat, red flasks of gunpowder. "You give me this," said Rosa picking out a pale blue rosette, that had been made as a boat race favour. "Give me
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curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?"<|quote|>Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger.
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Macushi peoples there,"
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Rosa
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the broad savannahs behind them.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. Then she raised
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road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved
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not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give
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men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course
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you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr
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him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go
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few feet round them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid combs set with glass jewels, mirrors, pocket knives with embossed aluminium handles, ribbons and necklaces and barter of more solid worth in the form of axe heads, brass cartridge cases and flat, red flasks of gunpowder. "You give me this," said Rosa picking out a pale blue rosette, that had been made as a boat race favour. "Give me this," she repeated,
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for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.
|
No speaker
|
behind them. "Macushi peoples there,"<|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.</|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there," she said.
|
travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there,"<|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.</|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with
|
to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there,"<|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.</|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked
|
boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there,"<|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.</|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go
|
us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there,"<|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.</|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr
|
and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there,"<|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.</|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the
|
them. They stripped the bark with their broad-bladed knives; that took another week. They worked patiently but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there,"<|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.</|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid combs set with glass jewels, mirrors, pocket knives with embossed aluminium handles, ribbons and necklaces and barter of more solid worth in the form of axe heads, brass cartridge cases and flat, red flasks of gunpowder. "You give me this," said Rosa picking out a pale blue rosette, that had been made as a boat race favour. "Give me this," she repeated, rubbing some drops of scent into the palm of her hands and inhaling deeply. "Each man
|
men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there,"<|quote|>she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.</|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty
|
A Handful Of Dust
|
"Pie-wie peoples there,"
|
Rosa
|
downstream towards the hidden country.<|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. "Macushi peoples no
|
other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.<|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now
|
you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.<|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of
|
men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.<|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples,"
|
below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.<|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough
|
would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.<|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come
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but clumsily; one woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.<|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid combs set with glass jewels, mirrors, pocket knives with embossed aluminium handles, ribbons and necklaces and barter of more solid worth in the form of axe heads, brass cartridge cases and flat, red flasks of gunpowder. "You give me this," said Rosa picking out a pale blue rosette, that had been made as a boat race favour. "Give me this," she repeated, rubbing some drops of scent into the palm of her hands and inhaling deeply. "Each man can choose three
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left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country.<|quote|>"Pie-wie peoples there,"</|quote|>she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey.
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A Handful Of Dust
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she said.
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No speaker
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hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with
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waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa.
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to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and
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go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa.
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storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three
|
solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" ....
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woodskin was split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid combs set with glass jewels, mirrors, pocket knives with embossed aluminium handles, ribbons and necklaces and barter of more solid worth in the form of axe heads, brass cartridge cases and flat, red flasks of gunpowder. "You give me this," said Rosa picking out a pale blue rosette, that had been made as a boat race favour. "Give me this," she repeated, rubbing some drops of scent into the palm of her hands and inhaling deeply. "Each man can choose three things from
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river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them."
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."
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Rosa
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"Pie-wie peoples there," she said.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are
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downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived
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people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your
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to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All
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that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are
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Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked
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split in getting it off the trunk. There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid combs set with glass jewels, mirrors, pocket knives with embossed aluminium handles, ribbons and necklaces and barter of more solid worth in the form of axe heads, brass cartridge cases and flat, red flasks of gunpowder. "You give me this," said Rosa picking out a pale blue rosette, that had been made as a boat race favour. "Give me this," she repeated, rubbing some drops of scent into the palm of her hands and inhaling deeply. "Each man can choose three things from this box if he comes in the
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two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said.<|quote|>"Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."</|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"
|
Dr Messinger
|
no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"</|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes." "You
|
there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"</|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats,
|
an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"</|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa.
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Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"</|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman
|
the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"</|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles,
|
rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"</|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them
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There was nothing Tony and Dr Messinger could do to help. They spent that week guarding the sugar from the women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"</|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid combs set with glass jewels, mirrors, pocket knives with embossed aluminium handles, ribbons and necklaces and barter of more solid worth in the form of axe heads, brass cartridge cases and flat, red flasks of gunpowder. "You give me this," said Rosa picking out a pale blue rosette, that had been made as a boat race favour. "Give me this," she repeated, rubbing some drops of scent into the palm of her hands and inhaling deeply. "Each man can choose three things from this box if he comes in the boats." But Rosa replied monotonously, "Macushi peoples dig cassava field just now." "It's no good," said Dr Messinger after half
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many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples."<|quote|>"Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"</|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last
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A Handful Of Dust
|
"Yes, give me cigarettes."
|
Rosa
|
Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"<|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes."</|quote|>"You come with men in
|
two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"<|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes."</|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty,
|
peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"<|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes."</|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men
|
asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"<|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes."</|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going
|
and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"<|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes."</|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls
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"emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"<|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes."</|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and
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women. As the men moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"<|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes."</|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid combs set with glass jewels, mirrors, pocket knives with embossed aluminium handles, ribbons and necklaces and barter of more solid worth in the form of axe heads, brass cartridge cases and flat, red flasks of gunpowder. "You give me this," said Rosa picking out a pale blue rosette, that had been made as a boat race favour. "Give me this," she repeated, rubbing some drops of scent into the palm of her hands and inhaling deeply. "Each man can choose three things from this box if he comes in the boats." But Rosa replied monotonously, "Macushi peoples dig cassava field just now." "It's no good," said Dr Messinger after half an hour's fruitless negotiation.
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were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--"<|quote|>"Yes, give me cigarettes."</|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade
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A Handful Of Dust
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"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."
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Dr Messinger
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cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes."<|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."</|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of
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gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes."<|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."</|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen.
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Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes."<|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."</|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples
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_with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes."<|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."</|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony.
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in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes."<|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."</|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There
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a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes."<|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."</|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade
|
moved about the camp and the surrounding bush, their steps were soundless; their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes."<|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."</|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid combs set with glass jewels, mirrors, pocket knives with embossed aluminium handles, ribbons and necklaces and barter of more solid worth in the form of axe heads, brass cartridge cases and flat, red flasks of gunpowder. "You give me this," said Rosa picking out a pale blue rosette, that had been made as a boat race favour. "Give me this," she repeated, rubbing some drops of scent into the palm of her hands and inhaling deeply. "Each man can choose three things from this box if he comes in the boats." But Rosa replied monotonously, "Macushi peoples dig cassava field just now." "It's no good," said Dr Messinger after half an hour's fruitless negotiation. "We shall have to try with the mice. I wanted to keep
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that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes."<|quote|>"You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."</|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing. "Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they
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A Handful Of Dust
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Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.
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No speaker
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give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."<|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.</|quote|>"Listen. You will have your
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with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."<|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.</|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to
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hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."<|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.</|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God,"
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Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."<|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.</|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats
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said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."<|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.</|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for
|
us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."<|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.</|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside
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their bare feet seemed never to disturb the fallen leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."<|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.</|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid combs set with glass jewels, mirrors, pocket knives with embossed aluminium handles, ribbons and necklaces and barter of more solid worth in the form of axe heads, brass cartridge cases and flat, red flasks of gunpowder. "You give me this," said Rosa picking out a pale blue rosette, that had been made as a boat race favour. "Give me this," she repeated, rubbing some drops of scent into the palm of her hands and inhaling deeply. "Each man can choose three things from this box if he comes in the boats." But Rosa replied monotonously, "Macushi peoples dig cassava field just now." "It's no good," said Dr Messinger after half an hour's fruitless negotiation. "We shall have to try with the mice. I wanted to keep them till we reached the Pie-wies. It's a pity.
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had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes."<|quote|>Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.</|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?" "Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her
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A Handful Of Dust
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"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?"
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Dr Messinger
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of her and said nothing.<|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?"</|quote|>"Men no go," said Rosa.
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cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.<|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?"</|quote|>"Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will
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no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.<|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?"</|quote|>"Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to
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Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.<|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?"</|quote|>"Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business
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heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.<|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?"</|quote|>"Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty
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guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.<|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?"</|quote|>"Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with
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leaves, their bare shoulders made no rustle in the tangled undergrowth; their speech was brief and scarcely audible, they never joined in the chatter and laughter of their women; sometimes they gave little grunts as they worked; only once they were merry, when one of them let his knife slip as he was working on the tree-trunk and cut deeply into the ball of his thumb. Dr Messinger dressed the wound with iodine, lint and bandages. After that the women constantly solicited him, showing him little scratches on their arms and legs and asking for iodine. Two of the trees were finished on one day, then another next day (that was the one which split) and the fourth two days after that; it was a larger tree than the others. When the last fibre was severed, four men got round the trunk and lifted the skin clear. It curled up again at once, making a hollow cylinder, which the men carried down to the waterside and set afloat, fastening it to a tree with a loop of vine-rope. When all the woodskins were ready it was an easy matter to make canoes of them. Four men held them open while two others fixed the struts. The ends were left open, and curled up slightly so as to lift them clear (when the craft was fully laden it drew only an inch or two of water). Then the men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.<|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?"</|quote|>"Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause; at last Dr Messinger said, "You tell the men to come here" .... "It's no use threatening them," he remarked to Tony when Rosa had waddled back to the fireside. "They are a queer, timid lot. If you threaten them they take fright and disappear, leaving you stranded. Don't worry, I shall be able to persuade them." They could see Rosa talking at the fireside but none of the group moved. Presently, having delivered her message, she was silent and squatted down among them with the head of one of the women between her knees. She had been searching it for lice when Dr Messinger's summons had interrupted her. "We'd better go across and talk to them." Some of the Indians were in hammocks. The others were squatting on their heels; they had scraped earth over the fire and extinguished it. They gazed at Tony and Dr Messinger with slit, pig eyes. Only Rosa seemed incurious; her head was averted; all her attention went to her busy fingers as she picked and crunched the lice from her friend's hair. "What's the matter?" asked Dr Messinger. "I told you to bring the men here." Rosa said nothing. "So Macushi people are cowards. They are afraid of Pie-wie people." "It is the cassava field," said Rosa. "We must go back to dig the cassava. Otherwise it will be bad." "Listen. I want the men for one, two weeks. No more. After that, all finish. They can go home." "It is the time to dig the cassava. Macushi people dig cassava before the big rains. All people go home just now." "It's pure blackmail," said Dr Messinger. "Let's get out some trade goods." He and Tony together prised open one of the cases and began to spread out the contents on a blanket. They had chosen these things together at a cheap store in Oxford Street. The Indians watched the display in unbroken silence. There were bottles of scent and pills, bright celluloid combs set with glass jewels, mirrors, pocket knives with embossed aluminium handles, ribbons and necklaces and barter of more solid worth in the form of axe heads, brass cartridge cases and flat, red flasks of gunpowder. "You give me this," said Rosa picking out a pale blue rosette, that had been made as a boat race favour. "Give me this," she repeated, rubbing some drops of scent into the palm of her hands and inhaling deeply. "Each man can choose three things from this box if he comes in the boats." But Rosa replied monotonously, "Macushi peoples dig cassava field just now." "It's no good," said Dr Messinger after half an hour's fruitless negotiation. "We shall have to try with the mice. I wanted to keep them till we reached the Pie-wies. It's a pity. But they'll fall for the mice, you see. I _know_ the Indian mind." These mice were comparatively expensive articles; they
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men set about fashioning some single-bladed paddles; that, too, was an easy matter. Every day Dr Messinger asked Rosa, "When will the boats be ready? Ask the men." And she replied, "Just now." "How many days--four?--five?--how many?" "No, not many. Boats finish just now." At last when it was clear that the work was nearly complete, Dr Messinger busied himself with arrangements. He sorted out the stores, dividing the necessary freight into two groups; he and Tony were to sit in separate boats and each had with him a rifle and ammunition, a camera, tinned rations, trade goods and his own luggage. The third canoe, which would be manned solely by Indians, was to hold the flour and rice, sugar and farine and the rations for the men. The canoes would not hold all the stores and an "emergency dump" was made a little way up the bank. "We shall take eight men with us. Four can stay behind with the women to guard the camp. Once we are among the Pie-wies, everything will be easy. These Macushis can go home then. I don't think they will rob the stores. There is nothing here that would be much use to them." "Hadn't we better keep Rosa with us to act as interpreter with the Macushis?" "Yes, perhaps we had. I will tell her." That evening everything was finished except the paddles. In the first exhilarating hour of darkness, when Tony and Dr Messinger were able to discard the gloves and veils that had been irking them all day, they called Rosa across to the part of the camp where they ate and slept. "Rosa, we have decided to take you down the river with us. We need you to help us talk to the men. Understand?" Rosa said nothing; her face was perfectly blank, lit from below by the storm lantern that stood on a box between them; the shadow of her high cheekbones hid her eyes; lank, ragged hair, a tenuous straggle of tattooing along the forehead and lip, rotund body in its filthy cotton gown, bandy brown legs. "Understand?" But still she said nothing; she seemed to be looking over their heads into the dark forest, but her eyes were lost in shadow. "Listen, Rosa, all women and four men stay here in camp. Eight men come in boats to Pie-wie village. You come with boats. When we reach Pie-wie village, you and eight men and boats go back to camp to other women and men. Then back to Macushi country. Understand?" At last Rosa spoke. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "I am not asking you to go _with_ Pie-wie people. You and the men take us as far as Pie-wies, then you go back to Macushi people. Understand?" Rosa raised her arm in an embracing circle which covered the camp and the road they had travelled and the broad savannahs behind them. "Macushi peoples there," she said. Then she raised the other arm and waved it downstream towards the hidden country. "Pie-wie peoples there," she said. "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples." "Now listen, Rosa. You are sensible, civilized woman. You lived two years with black gentleman, Mr Forbes. You like cigarettes--" "Yes, give me cigarettes." "You come with men in boats, I give you plenty, plenty cigarettes." Rosa looked stolidly ahead of her and said nothing.<|quote|>"Listen. You will have your man and seven others to protect you. How can we talk with men without you?"</|quote|>"Men no go," said Rosa. "Of course the men will go. The only question is, will you come too?" "Macushi peoples no go with Pie-wie peoples," said Rosa. "Oh God," said Dr Messinger wearily. "All right, we'll talk about it in the morning." "You give me cigarette...." "It's going to be awkward if that woman doesn't come." "It's going to be much more awkward if none of them come," said Tony. * * * * * Next day the boats were ready. By noon they were launched and tied in to the bank. The Indians went silently about the business of preparing their dinner. Tony and Dr Messinger ate tongue, boiled rice and some tinned peaches. "We're all right for stores," said Dr Messinger. "There's enough for three weeks at the shortest and we are bound to come across the Pie-wies in a day or two. We will start to-morrow." The Indians' wages, in rifles, fish hooks and rolls of cotton, had been left behind for them at their village. There were still half a dozen boxes of "trade" for use during the later stages of the journey. A leg of bush-pig was worth a handful of shot or twenty gun caps in that currency; a fat game-bird cost a necklace. When dinner was over, at about one o'clock, Dr Messinger called Rosa over to them. "We start to-morrow," he said. "Yes, just now." "Tell the men what I told you last night. Eight men to come in boats, others wait here. You come in boats. All these stores stay here. All these stores go in boats. You tell men that." Rosa said nothing. "Understand?" "No peoples go in boats," she said. "All peoples go this way," and she extended her arm towards the trail that they had lately followed. "To-morrow or next day all people go back to village." There was a long pause;
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A Handful Of Dust
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