Bevis Part 11

Bevis tried to secure him, Mark pushed him in turn.

"You're a wretch."

"I hate you!"

"I'll kill you!"

"I'll shoot you!"

Mark darted aside and took his spear; Bevis had his bow in an instant and began to draw it. Mark, knowing that Bevis would shoot his hardest, ran for the second oak. Bevis in his haste pulled hard, but let the arrow slip before he could take aim. It glanced upon a bough and shot up nearly straight into the air, gleaming as it went--a streak of light--in the sunshine. Mark stopped by the oak, and before Bevis could fetch another arrow poised his spear and threw it. The spear flew direct at the enemy, but in his haste Mark forgot to throw high enough, he hurled it point-blank, and the hardened point struck the earth and chipped up crumbling pieces of dry ground; then it slid like a serpent some way through the thin gra.s.ses.

Utterly heedless of the spear, which in his rage he never saw, Bevis picked up an arrow from the place where he had slept, fitted the notch to the string and looked for Mark, who had hidden behind the other oak.

Guessing that he was there, Bevis ran towards it, when Mark shouted to him,--

"Stop! I say, it's not fair; I have nothing, and you'll be a coward."

Bevis paused, and saw the spear lying on the ground.

"Come and take your spear," he said directly; "I won't shoot." He put his bow on the ground. Mark ran out, and had his spear in a moment.

Bevis stooped to lift his bow, but suddenly in his turn cried,--

"Stop! Don't throw; I want to say something."

Mark, who had poised his spear, put it down again on the gra.s.s.

"We ought not to fight now," said Bevis. "You know we are exploring, people never fight then, else the savages kill those who are left; they wait till they get home, and then fight."

"So they do," said Mark; "but I shall not be left tied to a tree."

"Very well, not this time. Now we must shake hands."

They shook hands, and Pan, seeing that there was now no danger of a chance knock from a flying stick, came forth from the bush where he had taken shelter.

"But you want everything your own way," said Mark sulkily.

"Of course I do," said Bevis, glaring at him, "I'm captain."

"But you do when you are not captain."

"You are a big story."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"People are not to contradict me," said Bevis, looking very defiant indeed, and standing bolt upright. "I say I am captain."

Mark did not reply, but picked up his bat, which had fallen off.

Without another word each gathered up his things, then came the question which way to go? Bevis would not consult his companion; his companion would not speak first. Bevis shut his lips very tight, pressing his teeth together; he determined to continue on and try and get round the New Sea. He was not sure, but fancied they should do so by keeping somewhat to the right. He walked to the channel of the stream, sprang across it, and pushing his way through the hazel bushes, went in that direction; Mark followed silently, holding his arm up to stop the boughs which as Bevis parted them swung back sharply.

After the hazel bushes there was fairly clear walking between the ash-poles and especially near the oak-trees, each of which had an open s.p.a.ce about it. Bevis went as straight as he could, but had to wind in and out round the stoles and sometimes to make a curve when there was a thick bramble bush in the way. As they pa.s.sed in Indian file under some larger poles, Mark suddenly left the path and began to climb one of them. Bevis stopped, and saw that there was a wood-pigeon's nest. The bird was on the nest, and though she felt the ash-pole tremble as Mark came up, hand over hand, cracking little dead twigs, though her nest shook under her, she stayed till his hand almost touched it. Then she flew up through the pale green ash sprays, and Mark saw there were two eggs, for the sticks of which the nest was made were so thinly put together that, now the bird was gone, he could see the light through, and part of the eggs lying on them.

He brought one of the eggs down in his left hand, sliding down the pole slowly not to break it. The pure white of the wood-pigeon's egg is curiously and delicately mottled like the pores of the finest human skin. The enamel of the surface, though smooth and glossy, has beneath it some water-mark of under texture like the arm of the Queen of Love, glossy white and smooth, yet not encased, but imperceptibly porous to that breath of violet sweetness which announces the G.o.ddess. The sunlight fell on the oval as Mark, without a moment's pause, took a pin from the hem of his jacket and blew the egg.

So soon as he had finished, Bevis went on again, and came to some hawthorn bushes, through which they had much trouble to push their way, receiving several stabs from the long thorns. As it was awkward with the egg in his hand, Mark dropped it.

There was a path beyond the hawthorn, very little used, if at all, and green, but still a path--a trodden line--and Bevis went along it, as it seemed to lead in the direction he wished. By the side of the path he presently found a structure of ash sticks, and stopped to look at it.

At each end four sticks were driven into the ground, two and two, the tops crossing each other so as to make a small V. Longer sticks were laid in these V's, and others across at each end.

"It's a little house," said Mark, forgetting the quarrel. "Here's some of the straw on the ground; they thatch it in winter and crawl under."

(It was about three feet high.)

"I don't know," said Bevis.

"I'm sure it is," said Mark. "They are little men, the savages who live here, they're pigmies, you know."

"So they are," said Bevis, quite convinced, and likewise forgetting his temper. "Of course they are, and that's why the path is so narrow. But I believe it's not a house, I mean not a house to live in. It's a place to worship at, where they have a fetich."

"I think it's a house," said Mark.

"Then where's the fireplace?" asked Bevis decidedly.

"No more there is a fireplace," said Mark thoughtfully. "It's a fetich-place."

Bevis went on again, leaving the framework behind. Across those bars the barley was thrown in autumn for the pheasants, which feed by darting up and dragging down a single ear at a time; thus by keeping the barley off the ground there is less waste. They knew this very well.

"Bevis," said Mark presently.

"Yes."

"Let's leave this path."

"Why?"

"Most likely we shall meet some savages--or perhaps a herd of wild beasts, they rush along these paths in the jungle and crush over everything--perhaps elephants."

"So they do," said Bevis, and hastily stepped out of the path into the wood again. They went under more ash-poles where the pigeons' nests were numerous; they counted five all in sight at once, and only a few yards apart, for they could not see far through the boughs. Some of the birds were sitting, others were not. Mark put up his spear and pushed one off her nest. There was a continual fluttering all round them as the pigeons came down to, or left their places. Never had they seen so many nests--they walked about under them for a long time, doing nothing but look up at them, and talk about them.

"I know," said Bevis, "I know--these savages here think the pigeons sacred, and don't kill them--that's why there are so many."

Not much looking where they were going, they came out into a s.p.a.ce where the poles had been cut in the winter, and the stoles bore only young shoots a few feet high. There was a single waggon track, the ruts overhung with gra.s.ses and bordered with rushes, and at the end of it, where it turned, they saw a c.o.c.k pheasant. They tried to go through between the stoles, but the thistles were too thick and the brambles and briars too many; they could flourish here till the ash-poles grew tall and kept away the sun. So they followed the waggon track, which led them again under the tall poles.

To avoid the savages they kept a very sharp lookout, and paused if they saw anything. There was a huge brown crooked monster lying asleep in one place, they could not determine whether an elephant or some unknown beast, till, creeping nearer from stole to bush and bush to stole, they found it to be a thrown oak, from which the bark had been stripped, and the exposed sap had dried brown in the sun. So the vast iguanodon may have looked in primeval days when he laid him down to rest in the brushwood.

"When shall we come to the New Sea again?" said Mark presently, as they were moving more slowly through a thicker growth.

"I cannot think," said Bevis. "If we get lost in this jungle, we may walk and walk and walk and never come to anything except banyan-trees, and cobras, and tigers, and savages."