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.
Yes, sir, I know how it feels to be hunted by somethin’ that’s just figgerin’ how nice you’re goin’ to taste after he’s got his paws on you.
Well, finally I came to the camp of the white man. I could see him sittin’ there, all bearded an’ tanned. He was wearin’ white clothes an’ sittin’ before a fire with a lot o’ native servants waitin’ around with food an’ drink an’ what not.
I walked up to him, pretty well all in, an’ motioned to my mouth. I’d been so used to talkin’ to the natives that way that for a moment I forgot that this man talked my language.
Then I told him. “I come to trade,” I says, an’ dumped out the gold on the ground.<
br />
He went up outa the canvas chair like he’d been shot.
“Another one!” he yelled. “An’ this one’s white!”
Then he clapped his hands, an’ black men came runnin’ up an’ grabbed me.
“Where did yuh get it? Where is it? Is there any more? How long will it take to get there?” he yells at me, his face all purple, with the veins standin’ out an’ the eyes bulgin’.
I’d forgotten how excited white men got at the sight of gold.
“Gold! Gold!” he goes on. “The country must be lousy with gold! There was a big ape hanging around camp this morning. He seemed a higher species of ape, almost human. I stalked him and shot him for a specimen. Can you imagine my surprise when I found that he was carrying a skin filled with gold?
“And this is the same gold. I’d recognize it anywhere. Come, my good man, come and tell me if you have ever seen a similar creature to this great ape. I have preserved him in alcohol and intend to carry him intact to the British Museum.”
I could feel myself turnin’ sorta sick at the idea, but there was nothin’ for it. He was draggin’ me along to a big vat. There was the monkey-man, a bullet hole in his back—in his back, mind you. He hadn’t even shot him from the front, but had sneaked around to the rear. The “specimen” was floatin’ around in the alcohol.
I turned away.
“Tell me, tell me,” pleads the guy, “do you know him? Your gold comes from the same source. Perhaps you have seen others of the same species.
“After I shot him I was overcome with remorse because he might have showed me the way to the gold deposit if I had merely captured him. But I shot before I knew of the gold.”
I did some rapid thinkin’. If this bird thought I knew where the gold came from he’d force me to show him, or perhaps he’d kill me an’ stick me in alcohol. So I looked sad.
“No, I don’t know,” I tells him. “I saw this man-monkey carryin’ a skin full of somethin’ heavy. I followed along until he set down the sack an’ went to sleep. Then I sneaked up, seen it was gold, an’ figgered a monkey-man didn’t have no use for gold.”
He nods his head. “Quite right, my friend. Quite right. A monkey can have no use for gold. And how about yourself? You possibly have no use for it. At any rate you admit it was part of the gold that belonged to the monkey, so you should restore it to the original pile, and I will take charge of it.”
I seen this bird was one of the kind that want everything for nothin’ an’ insist that a guy mustn’t hold out on ’em.
I told him that I’m only too glad to oblige, but I want some calicos an’ some mirrors an’ blankets an’ a gun an’ some ammunition, an’ some huntin’ knives an’ beads. After that he can have the gold.
We dickered for a while, an’ finally I dusted out, takin’ two porters with me, frightened to death but loaded
down with junk. I was carryin’ the rifle, an’ I was watchin’ my back trail. The old boy might figure I was a specimen.
I got back all right. We had one brush with the Fanti outfit, but the roar of the gun made ’em take to the tall timber. I had the porters lay the junk down about two miles from the
place where our tribe was camped, an’ I sneaked it up to the bottleneck myself, carryin’ three loads of it. Then I came on up to the sentries, shook hands, walked past an’ got a couple of warriors to help me with the plunder.
Kk-Kk was there, all dolled up in all her finery, paradin’ around the village. That’s a custom they got from the Fantis. When a girl’s offered for sale in marriage she decks herself out with everything the family’s got an’ parades around the village. That’s a notice to bidders.
I knew Kk-Kk was doin’ it for me. She had to comply with the customs of the tribe, but she figgered I was the only bird that could make the grade an’ she trusted to my resourcefulness to bring home the bacon.
CHAPTER 6
African Justice
My stuff was a riot. When I had the fellows spread it out on the ground the boys’ eyes stuck out until their foreheads bulged. Most of ’em had never seen the trade goods of the white man. They’d been kept pretty well isolated with the hostile Fanti outfit hemmin’ ’em in by land an’ the open ocean thunderin’ on the beach.
The knives made the hit. The warriors were hunters enough to appreciate a keen-edged bit of shiny steel. The blankets didn’t take very well, neither did the calico, but the knives, the mirrors, an’ the beads were drawin’ cards that couldn’t be beat.
Old Yik-Yik screwed up his eyes an’ sucked in his mouth, the way he had when he was thinkin’, an’ then he jabbers out a bunch of graduated monkey talk. The goldsmith was there an’ he blinks his rheumy eyes an’ sticks out his hand.
“The old bird says you’ve bought the girl,” he tells me.
I could feel my heart do a flip-flop. It was all matter-of-fact to them, the buyin’ of a wife, even if she did happen to be the future queen of the tribe. But to me there was only one Kk-Kk in the world, an’ now she was to be mine. The only man that knew my secret was the monkey-man, an’ he was floatin’ around in a vat of alcohol. I could settle down in the tribe an’ be happy the rest of my life.
But, in spite of it all, I was feelin’ off color. My head felt light. When I’d turn it quick it seemed to keep right on goin’ for a couple of revolutions. An’ my feet felt funny, as though they wasn’t settin’ firm on the ground.
But what of it? Wasn’t I goin’ to marry Kk-Kk? What was a little biliousness more or less?
An’ then there was a bunch o’ yellin’. I looked up an’ seen a couple of the sentries bringin’ in a captive. Another meal, I thought to myself, wonderin’ if maybe he’d be in time to furnish the spread at the weddin’ feast.
I looked again, an’ then my mouth got all dry an’ fuzzy.
It was one of the porters that had carried out my stuff. Probably he had sneaked back to try an’ find the gold, or else some of the hunters had caught him. In either event my hash was cooked. When he told ’em what I’d traded to the white man—
I strained my ears. Some of our crowd talked Fanti, an’ maybe the porter talked it. He did. I heard ’em jabberin’ away, an’ the porter pointed at me an’ at the stuff on the ground. ,
I stole a look at Yik-Yik. His eyes was as hard as a couple of glass beads, an’ his lips was all sucked in until his mouth was just a network of puckered wrinkles.
He spits out some words an’ a circle forms around me. The goldsmith was still there an’ he kept right on actin’ as interpreter, but I didn’t need to follow half what he said.
An’ then, all of a sudden, I stiffened up to real attention. It seemed the old man was accusin’ Kk-Kk o’ betrayin’ the tribe.
For a minute or two I thought he’d gone clean cuckoo, an’ then I seen just how it looked to him. Kk-Kk was in love with me. The monkey-man, who she didn’t like, had threatened to buy her. There was a white man in the country. What was more likely than that she’d slipped me out d bunch of gold?
I tried to tell ’em, but they would not listen. Kk-Kk looked all white around the gills for a minute, an’ then she walked over to my side.
“We shall meet death together,” she said, dignified as a queen had ought to be. But I wasn’t goin’ to stand for it.
I tried to tell ’em about how I had the ants trained. I volunteered to show ’em, I tried to get ’em to feed me to the ants. But they wouldn’t listen to me. Kk-Kk was the only one they’d listen to, an’ she wouldn’t say a word. She wanted to die with me.
Then was when I knew I was sick. The whole ground started reelin’ around, an’ I felt so drowsy I could hardly hold my eyes open. My head was burnin’ an’ throbbin’ an’ it seemed as though the damp odors of the jungle was soaked all through my blood an’ was smotherin’ me under a blanket of jungle mist.
Their voices sounded farther an’ farther away.
I heard the goldsmith tellin’ me the sentence the chief was pronouncin’. He had to lean up against my ear
an’ shout to make me understand.
It seemed they had a funny bread made out of some berries an’ roots. When a fellow ate it he lost his memory.
The old king had decided not to kill us, but to feed us this bread an’ banish us from the tribe.
Since we’d committed the crime against the tribe because we wanted to marry, it seemed like proper justice for the old boy to feed us king-kee, the bread of forgetfulness, so we wouldn’t ever remember about the other.
It was a horrible punishment. If I hadn’t been cornin’ down sick I’d have made a break an’ forced ’em to kill me, or turned loose with the rifle an’ seen if I couldn’t have escaped with Kk-Kk.
But I was a sick man. I felt ’em stuffin’ somethin’ in my mouth, an’ I swallowed mechanically an’ cried for water.
Then I remember seein’ Kk-Kk’s eyes, all misty an’ floatin’ with tears, bendin’ over me. Then I sank into a sleep or stupor. Everything snuffed out like a candle goin’ out.
Lord knows how much later I began to come to. I was in Cape Coast Castle. They told me some natives had brought me on a stretcher, sat me down before the door of the buildin’ where they kept the medicines, an’ gone away. It had been done at night. They found me there the next mornin’ sick with the sleepin’ sickness.
When I woke up I couldn’t tell ’em who I was, where I’d been, or how I got there. I only knew I wanted somethin’ an’ couldn’t tell what it was.
A boat came in, an’ they shipped me on her. The surgeon aboard got interested in my case. Every time it rained I’d sleep. There was somethin’ in the smell of dampness in the air.
The Human Zero- The Science Fiction Stories Of Erle Stanley Gardner Page 25