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's 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 aluminum handles, ribbons and necklaces and barter of more solid worth in the farm 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 people 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 had cost three and sixpence each, and Tony remembered vividly the embarrassment with which he had witnessed their demonstration on the floor of the toy department.
They were of German manufacture; the size of large rats but conspicuously painted in spots of green and white; they had large glass eyes, stiff whiskers and green and white ringed tails; they ran on hidden wheels, and inside them were little bells that jingled as they moved. Dr. Messinger took one out of their box, unwrapped the tissue paper and held it up to general scrutiny. There was no doubt that he had captured his audience's interest. Then he wound it up. The Indians stirred apprehensively at the sound.
The ground where they were camping was hard mud, inundated at flood time. Dr. Messinger put the toy down at his feet and set it going; tinkling merrily it ran towards the group of Indians. For a moment Tony was afraid that it would turn over, or become stuck against a root but the mechanism was unimpaired and by good chance there was a clear course. The effect exceeded anything that he had expected. There was a loud intake of breath, a series of horrified, small grunts, a high wail of terror from the women, and a sudden stampede; a faint patter of bare brown feet among the fallen leaves, bare limbs, quiet as bats, pushed through the undergrowth, ragged cotton gowns caught and tore in the thorn bushes. Before the toy had run down, before it had jingled its way to the place where the nearest Indian had been squatting, the camp was empty.
``Well I'm damned,'' said Dr. Messinger, ``that's better than I expected.''
``More than you expected anyway.''
``Oh it's all right. They'll come back. I know them.'' But by sundown there was still no sign. Throughout the hot afternoon Tony and Dr. Messinger, shrouded from cabouri fly, sprawled in their hammocks. The empty canoes lay in the river; the mechanical mouse had been put away. At sundown Dr. Messinger said, ``We'd better make a fire. They'll come back when it is dark.''
They brushed the earth away from the old embers, brought new wood and made a fire; they lit the storm lantern.
``We'd better get some supper,'' said Tony.
They boiled water and made some cocoa, opened a tin of salmon and finished the peaches that were left over from midday. They lit their pipes and drew the sheaths of mosquito netting across their hammocks. Most of this time they were silent. Presently they decided to go to sleep.
``We shall find them all here in the morning,'' said Dr. Messinger. ``They're an odd bunch.''
All round them the voices of the bush whistled and croaked, changing with the hours as the night wore on to morning.
Dawn broke in London, clear and sweet, dove-grey and honey, with promise of good weather; the lamps in the streets paled and disappeared; the empty streets ran with water, and the rising sun caught it as it bubbled round the hydrants; the men in overalls swung the nozzles of their hoses from side to side and the water jetted and cascaded in a sparkle of light.
``Let's have the window open,'' said Brenda. ``It's stuffy in here.''
The waiter drew back the curtains, opened, the windows.
``It's quite light,'' she added.
``After five. Oughtn't we to go to bed.''
``Yes.''
``Only another week and then all the parties will be over,'' said Beaver.
``Yes.''
``Well let's go.''
``All right. Can you pay? I just haven't any money.''
They had come on after the party, for breakfast at a club Daisy had opened. Beaver paid for the kippers and tea. ``Eight shillings,'' he said. ``How does Daisy expect to make a success of the place when she charges prices like that?''
``It does seem a lot ... So you really are going to America?''
``I must. Mother has taken the tickets.''
``Nothing I've said tonight makes any difference?''
``Darling, don't go on. We've been through all that. You know it's the only thing that can happen. Why spoil the last week?''
``You have enjoyed the summer, haven't you.''
``Of course ... well, shall we go?''
``Yes. You needn't bother to see, me home.''
``Sure you don't mind? It is miles out of the way and it's late.''
``There's no knowing what I mind.''
``Brenda, darling, for heaven's sake ... It isn't like you to go on like this.''
``I never was one for making myself expensive.''
The Indians returned during the night,. while Tony and Dr. Messinger were asleep; without a word spoken the little people crept out of hiding; the women had removed their clothes and left them at a distance so that no twig should betray their movements; their naked bodies moved soundlessly through the undergrowth; the glowing embers of the fire and the storm lantern twenty yards away were their only light; there was no moon. They collected their wicker baskets and their rations of farine, their bows and arrows, the gun and their broad-bladed knives; they rolled up their hammocks into compact cylinders. They took nothing with them that was not theirs. Then they crept back through the shadows, into the darkness.
When Tony and Dr. Messinger awoke it was clear to them what had happened.
``The situation is grave,'' said Dr. Messinger. ``But not desperate.''
Four
For four days Tony and Dr. Messinger paddled downstream. They sat, balancing themselves precariously, at the two ends of the canoe; between them they had piled the most essential of their stores; the remainder, with the other canoes, had been left at the camp, to be called for when they had recruited help from the Pie-wies. Even the minimum which Dr. Messinger had selected overweighted the craft so that it was dangerously low; and movement brought the water to the lip of the gunwale and threatened disaster; it was heavy to steer and they made slow progress, contenting themselves for the most part, with keeping end on, and drifting with the current.