Perhaps I was not capable of thinking quite coherently on what had just
happened until I was once more fairly outside of the forest shadows--out
in that clear open daylight, where things seem what they are, and
imagination, like a juggler detected and laughed at, hastily takes
itself out of the way. As I walked homewards I paused midway on the
barren ridge to gaze back on the scene I had left, and then the recent
adventure began to take a semi-ludicrous aspect in my mind. All that
circumstance of preparation, that mysterious prelude to something
unheard of, unimaginable, surpassing all fables ancient and modern, and
all tragedies--to end at last in a concert of howling monkeys! Certainly
the concert was very grand--indeed, one of the most astounding in
nature---but still--I sat down on a stone and laughed freely.
The sun was sinking behind the forest, its broad red disk still showing
through the topmost leaves, and the higher part of the foliage was of
a luminous green, like green flame, throwing off flakes of quivering,
fiery light, but lower down the trees were in profound shadow.
I felt very light-hearted while I gazed on this scene, for how pleasant
it was just now to think of the strange experience I had passed
through--to think that I had come safely out of it, that no human
eye had witnessed my weakness, and that the mystery existed still to
fascinate me! For, ludicrous as the denouement now looked, the cause of
all, the voice itself, was a thing to marvel at more than ever. That it
proceeded from an intelligent being I was firmly convinced; and although
too materialistic in my way of thinking to admit for a moment that it
was a supernatural being, I still felt that there was something more
than I had at first imagined in Kua-ko’s speech about a daughter of the
Didi. That the Indians knew a great deal about the mysterious voice, and
had held it in great fear, seemed evident. But they were savages, with
ways that were not mine; and however friendly they might be towards one
of a superior race, there was always in their relations with him a
low cunning, prompted partly by suspicion, underlying their words and
actions. For the white man to put himself mentally on their level is
not more impossible than for these aborigines to be perfectly open, as
children are, towards the white. Whatever subject the stranger within
their gates exhibits an interest in, that they will be reticent about;
and their reticence, which conceals itself under easily invented lies
or an affected stupidity, invariably increases with his desire for
information. It was plain to them that some very unusual interest took
me to the wood; consequently I could not expect that they would tell
me anything they might know to enlighten me about the matter; and I
concluded that Kua-ko’s words about the daughter of the Didi, and what
she would do if he blew an arrow at a bird, had accidentally escaped
him in a moment of excitement. Nothing, therefore, was to be gained
by questioning them, or, at all events, by telling them how much
the subject attracted me. And I had nothing to fear; my independent
investigations had made this much clear to me; the voice might proceed
from a very frolicsome and tricksy creature, full of wild fantastic
humours, but nothing worse. It was friendly to me, I felt sure; at the
same time it might not be friendly towards the Indians; for, on that
day, it had made itself heard only after my companion had taken flight;
and it had then seemed incensed against me, possibly because the savage
had been in my company.
That was the result of my reflections on the day’s events when I
returned to my entertainer’s roof and sat down among my friends to
refresh myself with stewed fowl and fish from the household pot, into
which a hospitable woman invited me with a gesture to dip my fingers.
Kua-ko was lying in his hammock, smoking, I think--certainly not
reading. When I entered he lifted his head and stared at me, probably
surprised to see me alive, unharmed, and in a placid temper. I laughed
at the look, and, somewhat disconcerted, he dropped his head down again.
After a minute or two I took the metal match-box and tossed it on to
his breast. He clutched it and, starting up, stared at me in the utmost
astonishment. He could scarcely believe his good fortune; for he had
failed to carry out his part of the compact and had resigned himself to
the loss of the coveted prize. Jumping down to the floor, he held up the
box triumphantly, his joy overcoming the habitual stolid look; while all
the others gathered about him, each trying to get the box into his own
hands to admire it again, notwithstanding that they had all seen it a
dozen times before. But it was Kua-ko’s now and not the stranger’s, and
therefore more nearly their own than formerly, and must look different,
more beautiful, with a brighter polish on the metal. And that wonderful
enamelled cock on the lid--figured in Paris probably, but just like a
cock in Guayana, the pet bird which they no more think of killing and
eating than we do our purring pussies and lemon-coloured canaries--must
now look more strikingly valiant and cock-like than ever, with its
crimson comb and wattles, burnished red hackles, and dark green arching
tail-plumes. But Kua-ko, while willing enough to have it admired and
praised, would not let it out of his hands, and told them pompously that
it was not theirs for them to handle, but his--Kua-ko’s--for all time;
that he had won it by accompanying me--valorous man that he was!--to
that evil wood into which they--timid, inferior creatures that they
were!--would never have ventured to set foot. I am not translating his
words, but that was what he gave them to understand pretty plainly, to
my great amusement.
After the excitement was over, Runi, who had maintained a dignified
calm, made some roundabout remarks, apparently with the object of
eliciting an account of what I had seen and heard in the forest of
evil fame. I replied carelessly that I had seen a great many birds and
monkeys--monkeys so tame that I might have procured one if I had had
a blow-pipe, in spite of my never having practiced shooting with that
weapon.
It interested them to hear about the abundance and tameness of the
monkeys, although it was scarcely news; but how tame they must have been
when I, the stranger not to the manner born--not naked, brown-skinned,
lynx-eyed, and noiseless as an owl in his movements--had yet been able
to look closely at them! Runi only remarked, apropos of what I had told
him, that they could not go there to hunt; then he asked me if I feared
nothing.
“Nothing,” I replied carelessly. “The things you fear hurt not the white
man and are no more than this to me,” saying which I took up a little
white wood-ash in my hand and blew it away with my breath. “And against
other enemies I have this,” I added, touching my revolver. A brave
speech, just after that araguato episode; but I did not make it without
blushing--mentally.
He shook his head, and said it was a poor weapon against some enemies;
also--truly enough--that it would procure no birds and monkeys for the
stew-pot.
Next morning my friend Kua-ko, taking his zabatana, invited me to go out
with him, and I consented with some misgivings, thinking he had overcome
his superstitious fears and, inflamed by my account of the abundance
of game in the forest, intended going there with me. The previous day’s
experience had made me think that it would be better in the future to
go there alone. But I was giving the poor youth more credit than he
deserved: it was far from his intention to face the terrible unknown
again. We went in a different direction, and tramped for hours through
woods where birds were scarce and only of the smaller kinds. Then my
guide surprised me a second time by offering to teach me to use the
zabatana. This, then, was to be my reward for giving him the box! I
readily consented, and with the long weapon, awkward to carry, in my
hand, and imitating the noiseless movements and cautious, watchful
manner of my companion, I tried to imagine myself a simple Guayana
savage, with no knowledge of that artificial social state to which I had
been born, dependent on my skill and little roll of poison-darts for
a livelihood. By an effort of the will I emptied myself of my life
experience and knowledge--or as much of it as possible--and thought
only of the generations of my dead imaginary progenitors, who had ranged
these woods back to the dim forgotten years before Columbus; and if the
pleasure I had in the fancy was childish, it made the day pass quickly
enough. Kua-ko was constantly at my elbow to assist and give advice; and
many an arrow I blew from the long tube, and hit no bird. Heaven knows
what I hit, for the arrows flew away on their wide and wild career to
be seen no more, except a few which my keen-eyed comrade marked to their
destination and managed to recover. The result of our day’s hunting was
a couple of birds, which Kua-ko, not I, shot, and a small opossum his
sharp eyes detected high up a tree lying coiled up on an old nest, over
the side of which the animal had incautiously allowed his snaky tail
to dangle. The number of darts I wasted must have been a rather serious
loss to him, but he did not seem troubled at it, and made no remark.
Next day, to my surprise, he volunteered to give me a second lesson, and
we went out again. On this occasion he had provided himself with a
large bundle of darts, but--wise man!--they were not poisoned, and it
therefore mattered little whether they were wasted or not. I believe
that on this day I made some little progress; at all events, my teacher
remarked that before long I would be able to hit a bird. This made me
smile and answer that if he could place me within twenty yards of a bird
not smaller than a small man I might manage to touch it with an arrow.
This speech had a very unexpected and remarkable effect. He stopped
short in his walk, stared at me wildly, then grinned, and finally burst
into a roar of laughter, which was no bad imitation of the howling
monkey’s performance, and smote his naked thighs with tremendous energy.
At length recovering himself, he asked whether a small woman was not
the same as a small man, and being answered in the affirmative, went off
into a second extravagant roar of laughter.
Thinking it was easy to tickle him while he continued in this mood, I
began making any number of feeble jokes--feeble, but quite as good as
the one which had provoked such outrageous merriment--for it amused
me to see him acting in this unusual way. But they all failed of their
effect--there was no hitting the bull’s-eye a second time; he would only
stare vacantly at me, then grunt like a peccary--not appreciatively--and
walk on. Still, at intervals he would go back to what I had said about
hitting a very big bird, and roar again, as if this wonderful joke was
not easily exhausted.
Again on the third day we were out together practicing at the
birds--frightening if not killing them; but before noon, finding that it
was his intention to go to a distant spot where he expected to meet
with larger game, I left him and returned to the village. The blow-pipe
practice had lost its novelty, and I did not care to go on all day
and every day with it; more than that, I was anxious after so long an
interval to pay a visit to my wood, as I began to call it, in the hope
of hearing that mysterious melody which I had grown to love and to miss
when even a single day passed without it.