Lord of the Flies - William Golding [64]
"I never heard him."
Sitting on the tremendous rock in the torrid sun, Roger received this news as an illumination. He ceased to work at his tooth and sat still, assimilating the possibilities of irresponsible authority. Then, without another word, he climbed down the back of the rocks toward the cave and the rest of the tribe.
The chief was sitting there, naked to the waist, his face blocked out in white and red. The tribe lay in a semicircle before him. The newly beaten and untied Wilfred was sniffing noisily in the background. Roger squatted with the rest.
"Tomorrow," went on the chief, "we shall hunt again."
He pointed at this savage and that with his spear.
"Some of you will stay here to improve the cave and defend the gate. I shall take a few hunters with me and bring back meat. The defenders of the gate will see that the others don't sneak in."
A savage raised his hand and the chief turned a bleak, painted face toward him.
"Why should they try to sneak in, Chief?"
The chief was vague but earnest.
"They will. They'll try to spoil things we do. So the watchers at the gate must be careful. And then―"
The chief paused. They saw a triangle of startling pink dart out, pass along his lips and vanish again.
"―and then, the beast might try to come in. You remember how he crawled―"
The semicircle shuddered and muttered in agreement.
"He came―disguised. He may come again even though we gave him the head of our kill to eat. So watch; and be careful."
Stanley lifted his forearm off the rock and held up an interrogative finger.
"Well?"
"But didn't we, didn't we―?"
He squirmed and looked down.
"No!"
In the silence that followed, each savage flinched away from his individual memory.
"No! How could we―kill―it?"
Half-relieved, half-daunted by the implication of further terrors, the savages murmured again.
"So leave the mountain alone," said the chief, solemnly, "and give it the head if you go hunting."
Stanley flicked his finger again.
"I expect the beast disguised itself."
"Perhaps," said the chief. A theological speculation presented itself. "We'd better keep on the right side of him, anyhow. You can't tell what he might do."
The tribe considered this; and then were shaken, as if by a flow of wind. The chief saw the effect of his words and stood abruptly.
"But tomorrow we'll hunt and when we've got meat we'll have a feast―"
Bill put up his hand.
"Chief."
"Yes?"
"What'll we use for lighting the fire?"
The chief's blush was hidden by the white and red clay. Into his uncertain silence the tribe spilled their murmur once more. Then the chief held up his hand.
"We shall take fire from the others. Listen. Tomorrow we'll hunt and get meat. Tonight I'll go along with two hunters―who'll come?"
Maurice and Roger put up their hands.
"Maurice―"
"Yes, Chief?"
"Where was their fire?"
"Back at the old place by the fire rock."
The chief nodded.
"The rest of you can go to sleep as soon as the sun sets. But us three, Maurice, Roger and me, we've got work to do. We'll leave just before sunset―"
Maurice put up his hand.
"But what happens if we meet―"
The chief waved his objection aside.
"We'll keep along by the sands. Then if he comes we'll do our, our dance again."
"Only the three of us?"
Again the murmur swelled and died away.
Piggy handed Ralph his glasses and waited to receive back his sight. The wood was damp; and this was the third time they had lighted it. Ralph stood back, speaking to himself.
"We don't want another night without fire."
He looked round guiltily at the three boys standing by. This was the first time he had admitted the double function of the fire. Certainly one was to send up a beckoning column of smoke; but the other was to be a hearth now and a comfort until they slept. Eric breathed on the wood till it glowed and sent out a little flame. A billow of white and yellow smoke reeked up. Piggy took back his glasses and looked at the smoke with pleasure.
"If only we could make a radio!"
"Or a plane―"
"―or a boat."
Ralph dredged in his fading knowledge of the world.
"We