It looked like curtains for me. Then a funny thing happened. I thought at the time it was because of my starin’ eyes an’ the racial inferiority an’ what not. Now I know the real reason. But the monkey-man lowered the bow, blinked his eyes a couple of times, just like a monkey puzzlin’ over a new idea, an’ then he reached up one of those long paws, grabbed a branch overhead, swung up into the higher trees, an’ was off.
It looked like he’d gone to get some witnesses, an’ it was up to me to bury my gold an’ be snappy about it. I could see the ants were finishin’ up the last of the feed I’d given ’em, an’ I wouldn’t have to be afraid of some of that bein’ left.
I took the gold an’ sprinted for the place where I kept it hid. I buried the new batch with the other, an’ then strolled back to the clearin’, tryin’ to look innocent.
I felt a big weight on my chest. Somehow I felt the monkey-man was goin’ to get me. If he could make his charges stick I was sure due to be a meal before night.
But the funny part of it was he didn’t make any charges. He wasn’t even there at all. Funny. I walked around an’ passed the few words of the language I’d picked up with some of the warriors, an’ then I saw Kk-Kk.
It was sort of a lazy life, livin’ there that way. The tradin’ power of the gold ornaments gave the tribe the bulge on things. They didn’t have to work so awful hard. Funny, too, they didn’t savvy rightly about the gold. They thought it wasn’t the metal, but the way the goldsmith worked it up into rings an’ bracelets an’ such like, that made it valuable. Gold as such they couldn’t understand.
Anyhow, the warriors didn’t have anything to do except a little huntin’ once in a while. The women did all of the real work, an’ there wasn’t much of that.
Kk-Kk an’ me walked down to the beach an’ I watched the green surf thunderin’ in. Her arm was nestled around me an’ her head was up against my shoulder. I felt a possessory sort of feelin’ like I owned the whole world. I patted her head an’ told her there wasn’t anything to be afraid of, that I was goin’ to make good on buyin’ her an’ that I’d boost any price the monkey-man was able to raise.
She felt curious, but when she seen I didn’t want to answer questions she let things go without talkin’. She was a wonderful girl, the kind that any man could be proud of, particularly a rough, seafarin’ man that had sailed all the seas of the world an’ knocked about in all sorts of weather.
I broke away from her when the sun was well up. I knew she’d go down to the ocean with the tribe for her bath.
That was my chance. I raced into the jungle to the place where I’d left my gold.
All that a man could pack away was gone. There wasn’t over twenty pounds left. The ground had been dug up an’ the gold rooted up. It was there in the sun, glistenin’ soft an’ yellow against the green of the jungle an’ the rich brown of the earth.
For a minute my heart made a flip-flop, an’ then I knew. The monkey-man hadn’t given the alarm at all. He’d come to know somethin’ of the power of the gold, an’ when he saw me feedin’ the ants an’ helpin’ myself at the gold ledge he realized I must have a bunch of it cached away. That had been why he hadn’t shot me with a poisoned arrow. He’d swung up out of sight in the high tree an’ waited for me to lead him to the place where I’d buried the gold. With his trainin’ in slippin’ through the branches of the trees there hadn’t been anything to it. He followed me as easy as a bird could flit through the branches.
Now he’d taken all the gold he could carry. He’d been in a hurry. He hadn’t stopped to bury the rest some place else, even, or to cover it over with earth. Why? There was only one answer. He’d made a bluff about buyin’ Kk-Kk from her old man, an’ he wanted to make good. He’d heard about the white man an’ his camp, an’ he’d got the same idea I’d had, an’ he’d got a head start on me.
I had a skin pouch with a couple of straps goin’ over the shoulders. I loaded the gold that was left in it an’ made my start. I knew there’d be trouble gettin’ past the sentries at the bottleneck, but I couldn’t wait for night. The monkey-man could slip through in the trees. I’d have to rely on bluff and nerve.
It wasn’t gettin’ past ’em that was the hard part. It was carry in’ the gold out. As a warrior, I was entitled to go out in the jungle to hunt, to come an’ go as I pleased. It was what was in that skin pouch that would make the trouble.
Then I got another idea. There’d been a kill the day before of some little sort of an antelope that ran around the jungle. I knew where some of the meat was. The gold didn’t amount to much in size, an’ I raced over an’ stuffed some animal meat on the top of it. It was sink or swim, an’ I couldn’t wait to fix up any fancy plan.
I grabbed a spear an’ a shield an’ started down the path. The sentries flashed their white teeth at me an’ blinked their round eyes. Then one of ’em noticed the pack on my back an’ he flopped his spear down while he came over to investigate.
I didn’t act like I was the least bit frightened. I even opened the sack myself, an’ I made a lot of motions. I pointed to the sun, an’ I swung my hand up an’ down four times tellin’ ’em that I’d be away four days. Then I pointed to the meat an’ to my mouth, explainin’ that it was for food.
I threw in a little comic stuff an’ had ’em laughin’. They laughed easy, those jungle men who were so blamed ignorant they didn’t know the power of gold.
It was a cinch. I was on my way, headin’ into hostile territory, knowin’ that the Fantis were in the country an’ that I’d be a fine meal for ’em. It’s a funny sensation, figgerin’ that you’re only valuable for the meat you can be made into, estimatin’ your calory value on the hoof.
Anyhow, the thing had been started an’ I had to see it through. After I got into the country where the white men went, the color of my skin would protect me from the tribes. The white man gets respect from the blacks. He kills a lot of blacks to do it, but he gets results.
It was the first few miles that had me worried. I had to go through the Eso country an’ into the Nitchwa country, an’ I was in a hurry. I couldn’t go slow an’ cautious like, an’ I couldn’t take to the trees like the monkey-man could.
The first day I almost got caught. A bunch of Fanti warriors came down the trail. I swung off to one side, workin’ my way into the thickest of the jungle, an’ hidin’ in the shadows. I thought sure I was caught, because those boys have eyes that can see in the dark. But I got by.
The second day I didn’t see a soul. I was gettin’ in a more open, rollin’ country, an’ I only had a general idea where I was goin’. There was a hill that stood up pretty well over the rest of the country, an’ I got up on that an’ climbed a tree.
Just at dusk I see ’em, hundreds of fires twinklin’ through the dusk like little stars. I figgered that’d be the camp of the white man.
It ain’t healthy to go through the jungle at night. There are too many animals who have picked up the habits of man an’ figger that turn-about is fair play. They relish the flesh of a man, more particularly a white man, as a delicacy.
We don’t think nothin’ o’ stalkin’ a nice buck an’ having our mouth water an’ think how tasty he’s goin’ to be broiled over a bed o’ coals. But if the buck turns around an’ starts stalkin’ us an’ lickin’ his chops over how nice we’re goin’ to taste it’s a different affair altogether.
I know, because for two hours I worked through the country with eyes glarin’ out of the jungle all around, an’ soft steps failin’ into the trail behind me. They were animals, stalkin’ along behind, a little afraid of the white man smell, hesitatin’ a bit about closin’ the gap an’ makin’ a supper outa me, but feelin’ their mouths water at the thought.