pdouglas.thecodex-第44节

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d　we　had　agreed　to　have　a　new　chief；　much　bigger　than　the　village　chief；　and　that　we　had　agreed　to　give　him　all　the　land　and　animals　and　trees　and　all　the　minerals　and　oil　underground；　if　there　was　any；　which　we　thought　was　very　funny。　They　gave　us　a　picture　of　our　new　chief。　He　was　very　ugly　with　a　face　as　pockmarked　as　a　pineapple。　When　our　real　chief　protested；　they　took　him　into　the　forest　and　shot　him。
　〃Then　soldiers　and　men　with　briefcases　came　and　said　that　there　had　been　a　revolution　and　that　we　had　a　new　chief；　that　the　old　one　had　been　shot。　They　told　us　to　make　marks　on　more　papers；　and　then　more　missionaries　came　and　made　schools　and　brought　medicines；　and　they　tried　to　catch　the　boys　and　take　them　away　to　school；　but　they　never　could。
　〃In　those　days　we　had　a　very　wise　chief；　my　grandfather；　Don　Cali。　One　day　he　called　everyone　together。　He　said　that　we　needed　to　understand　these　new　people　who　acted　like　madmen　but　were　as　crafty　as　demons。　We　had　to　learn　who　these　people　really　were。　He　asked　for　volunteers　among　the　boys。　I　volunteered。　The　next　time　the　missionaries　came　I　let　myself　be　captured　and　sent　to　boarding　school　in　La　Ceiba。　They　cut　my　hair　and　put　me　in　itchy　clothes　and　hot　shoes　and　beat　me　for　speaking　Tawahka。　I　stayed　there　ten　years；　and　I　learned　how　to　speak　Spanish　and　English；　and　I　saw　with　my　own　eyes　who　the　white　men　were。　That　was　my　job：　to　understand　them。
　〃I　came　back　and　told　my　people　what　I　had　learned。　They　said；　'This　is　terrible；　what　can　we　do？'　And　I　said；　'Leave　it　to　me。　We　will　resist　them　by　agreeing　with　them。'
　〃After　that；　I　knew　what　to　say　to　the　men　who　came　to　our　village　with　briefcases　and　soldiers。　I　knew　how　to　read　the　papers。　I　knew　when　to　sign　the　papers　and　when　to　lose　them　and　act　the　fool。　I　knew　what　to　say　to　the　Jesus　men　to　get　medicine；　food；　and　clothes。　Every　time　they　brought　a　picture　of　the　new　chief　and　told　me　to　throw　away　the　picture　of　the　old　chief；　I　thanked　them　and　hung　the　new　picture　up　in　my　hut　with　flowers。
　〃And　that　is　how　I　came　to　be　chief　of　Pito　Solo。　And　so　you　see；　Curandera；　I　understand　how　things　are。　There　is　nothing　we　can　do　to　help　the　mountain　Indians。　We　will　be　throwing　away　our　lives　for　nothing。〃
　Sally　said；　〃I；　personally；　can't　just　walk　away。〃
　Don　Alfonso　laid　a　hand　on　hers。　〃Curandera；　for　a　woman　you　are　the　bravest　I　have　ever　met。〃
　〃Don't　start　on　that　again；　Don　Alfonso。〃
　〃You　are　even　braver　than　most　men　I　have　known。　Do　not　underestimate　the　mountain　Indians。　I　would　not　want　to　be　one　of　these　soldiers　in　the　hands　of　the　mountain　Indians；　with　my　last　sight　on　earth　that　of　seeing　my　manhood　spit…roasting　on　an　open　fire。〃
　No　one　spoke　for　a　few　minutes。　Tom　felt　tired；　very；　very　tired。　〃It's　our　fault；　Don　Alfonso；　that　this　is　happening。　Or　rather；　our　father's　fault。　We're　responsible。〃
　〃Tomás；　none　of　this　means　anything；　this　business　of　your　fault；　his　fault；　my　fault。　We　can　do　nothing。　We　are　powerless。〃
　Philip　nodded　in　agreement。　〃I've　had　it　with　this　crazy　journey。　We　can't　save　the　world。〃
　〃I　agree；〃　said　Vernon。
　Tom　found　them　all　looking　at　him。　A　vote　of　sorts　was　being　taken；　and　he　had　to　decide。　He　found　Sally　looking　at　him　with　a　certain　curiosity。　He　just　couldn't　see　himself　giving　up。　He　had　e　too　far。　〃I'll　never　be　able　to　live　with　myself　if　we　just　go　back。　I'm　with　Sally。〃
　But　it　was　still　three　against　two。　Even　before　the　sun　rose；　Don　Alfonso　was　up　and　breaking　camp。　The　usually　inscrutable　Indian　was　frightened　out　of　his　wits。
　〃There　was　a　mountain　Indian　not　half　a　mile　from　our　camp　last　night。　I　saw　his　tracks。　I　am　not　afraid　of　death　myself。　But　I　have　already　caused　Pingo's　and　Chori's　deaths；　and　I　do　not　want　any　more　blood　on　my　hands。〃
　Tom　watched　Don　Alfonso　flinging　together　their　meager　belongings。　He　felt　sick。　It　was　over。　Hauser　had　won。
　Sally　said；　〃Wherever　Hauser　goes　with　that　codex；　whatever　he　does；　I'm　going　to　be　on　his　trail。　He'll　never　escape　me。　We　may　be　returning　to　civilization；　but　I'm　ing　back。　This　isn't　over　by　any　means。〃
　Philip's　feet　were　still　infected；　leaving　him　unable　to　walk。　Don　Alfonso　wove　a　carrying　hammock；　something　like　a　stretcher　with　two　short　poles　that　went　across　the　shoulders。　It　didn't　take　long　to　pack。　When　the　time　came　to　leave；　Tom　and　Vernon　hoisted　him　up。　They　set　off　single　file　through　the　narrow　corridor　of　vegetation；　Sally　in　front　wielding　the　machete；　Don　Alfonso　taking　up　the　rear。
　〃Sorry　to　be　such　a　nuisance；〃　said　Philip；　taking　out　his　pipe。
　〃You　are　a　damn　nuisance；〃　Vernon　said。
　〃Allow　me　to　beat　my　breast　with　remorse。〃
　Tom　listened　to　his　two　brothers。　It　had　always　been　like　this；　a　kind　of　half…joking　banter。　Sometimes　it　stayed　friendly；　sometimes　not。　Tom　was　glad；　in　a　way；　to　see　Philip　well　enough　to　start　chaffing　Vernon。
　〃Gee；　I　hope　I　don't　slip　and　drop　you　in　a　mudhole；〃　said　Vernon。
　Don　Alfonso　made　one　last　pass　among　them；　checking　their　packs。　〃We　must　be　as　silent　as　possible；〃　he　said。　〃And　no　smoking；　Philip。　They　will　smell　it。〃
　Philip　swore　and　put　the　pipe　away。　It　began　to　rain。　Carrying　Philip　proved　to　be　far　more　difficult　than　Tom　anticipated。　It　was　almost　impossible　to　haul　him　up　the　slippery　trails。　Carrying　him　across　wobbly　logs　laid　across　roaring　rivers　was　an　exercise　in　terror。　Don　Alfonso　kept　a　vigilant　eye　out　and　enforced　a　strict　regime　of　silence；　even　the　use　of　the　machete　was　forbidden。　Utterly　exhausted；　they　camped　that　afternoon　on　the　only　level　piece　of　ground　they　could　find；　a　wallow　of　mud。　The　rain　poured　buckets；　the　water　streaming　into　the　feeble　hut　Vernon　built；　and　the　mud　covered　everything。　Tom　and　Sally　went　off　to　hunt　and　wandered　through　the　forest　for　two　hours；　seeing　nothing。　Don　Alfonso　forbid　the　lighting　of　a　fire；　for　fear　of　the　smell。　Their　dinner　that　night　was　a　raw　root　that　tasted　like　cardboard　and　a　couple　of　rotten　fruits　riddled　with　little　white　worms。
　The　rain　continued　to　pour　down；　turning　the　streams　into　boiling　torrents。　Ten　hours　of　grueling　effort　carried　them　only　about　three　miles。　The　next　day　and　the　next　were　more　of　the　same。　The　hunting　was　impossible；　and　Don　Alfonso　could　not　catch　any　fish。　They　subsisted　on　roots　and　berries　and　the　odd　rotten　fruit　that　Don　Alfonso　was　able　to　scrounge　up。　By　the　fourth　day　they　had　managed　to　travel　less　than　ten　miles。　Philip；　in　his　already　half…starved　condition；　was　weakening　rapidly。　The　hollow　look　returned　to　his　face。　Unable　to　smoke；　he　spent　most　of　his　day　staring　up　into　the　jungle　canopy；　hardly　responding　when　spoken　to。　They　weakened　from　the　physical　effort　of　carrying　the　hammock　and　had　to　rest　ever　more　frequently。　Don　Alfonso　seemed　to　shrink；　his　bones　sticking　out　horribly；　his　skin　loose　and　wrinkled。　Tom　forgot　what　it　was　like　to　have　dry　clothes。
　On　the　fifth　day；　around　noon；　Don　Alfonso　called　a　halt。　He　reached　down　to　pluck　something　off　the　trail。　It　was　a　feather　with　a　tiny　piece　of　plaited　twine　attached　to　it。
　〃Mountain　Indians；〃　he　whispered；　his　voice　quavering。　〃This　is　fresh。〃
　There　was　a　silence。
　〃We　must　get　off　the　trail　now。〃
　Following　the　trail　had　been　bad　enough。　Now　walking　became　almost　impossible。　They　pushed　into　a　wall　of　ferns　and　lianas　so　thick　that　it　seemed　to　push　back　at　them。　They　crawled　under　and　climbed　over　fallen　trees；　waded　through　boggy　pools　with　the　mud　sometimes　to　their　waists。　The　vegetation　was　riddled　with　ants　and　stinging　insects；　which　when　disturbed　dropped　down　on　them　with　a　fury；　crawling　about　their　hair；　falling　inside　their　collars；　stinging　and　biting。　Philip　suffered　the　most　of　all　as　his　hammock　was　dragged　and　wrestled　through　the　dense　undergrowth。　Don　Alfonso　insisted　they　travel　off　the　trail。
　It　was　pure　hell。　The　rain　never　let　up。　They　took　turns　hacking　a　path　a　few　hundred　yards　long　through　the　dense　undergrowth；　then　two　of　them　would　carry　Philip　in　his　hammock　along　the　path。　There　they　would　stop　and　take　turns　cutting　another　hundred　yards　through　the　forest。　They　proceeded　this　way　at　the　speed　of　two　hundred　yards　an　hour　for　two　more　days；　without　a　single　letup　in　the　downpour；　wading　through　knee…deep　mud；　sliding　and　sometimes　crawling　uphill　and　falling　and　sliding　back　down　again。　Most　of　the　buttons　had　e　off　Tom's　shirt；　and　his　shoes　had　fallen　apart　so　badly　that　he　had　cut　his　feet　on　several　occasions　on　sharp　sticks。　The　rest　were　in　a　similar　state　of　raggedness。　The　forest　was　empty　of　game。　The　days　merged　into　one　long　struggle　through　twilight　thickets　and　rain…loud　swamps；　where　they　were　stung　and　bitten　so　continuously　that　their　skin　took　on　the　raw　texture　of　burlap。　It　now　took　all　four　of　them　to　lift　Philip；　and　sometimes　they　had　to　rest　for　an　hour　just　to　carry　him　a　dozen　yards。
　Tom　began　to　lose　all　track　of　time。　The　end　was　soon　ing；　he　realized：　the　moment　when　they　could　go　no　farther。　He　felt　strange；　light…headed。　The　nights　and　days　blended　into　one　another。　He　fell　in　the　mud　and　lay　there　until　Sally　pulled　him　up；　and　then；　half　an　hour　later；　he　would　have　to　do　the　same　for　her。
　They　arrived　at　an　open