Lord of the Flies - William Golding [61]
Piggy paused, then went on.
"We'll live on our own, the four of us―"
"Four of us. We aren't enough to keep the fire burning."
"We'll try. See? I lit it."
Samneric came dragging a great log out of the forest. They dumped it by the fire and turned to the pool. Ralph jumped to his feet.
"Hi! You two!"
The twins checked a moment, then walked on.
"They're going to bathe, Ralph."
"Better get it over."
The twins were very surprised to see Ralph. They flushed and looked past him into the air.
"Hullo. Fancy meeting you, Ralph."
"We just been in the forest―"
"―to get wood for the fire―"
"―we got lost last night."
Ralph examined his toes.
"You got lost after the..."
Piggy cleaned his lens.
"After the feast," said Sam in a stifled voice. Eric nodded. "Yes, after the feast."
"We left early," said Piggy quickly, "because we were tired."
"So did we―"
"―very early―"
"―we were very tired."
Sam touched a scratch on his forehead and then hurriedly took his hand away. Eric fingered his split lip.
"Yes. We were very tired," repeated Sam, "so we left early. Was it a good―"
The air was heavy with unspoken knowledge. Sam twisted and the obscene word shot out of him. "―dance?"
Memory of the dance that none of them had attended shook all four boys convulsively.
"We left early."
When Roger came to the neck of land that joined the Castle Rock to the mainland he was not surprised to be challenged. He had reckoned, during the terrible night, on finding at least some of the tribe holding out against the horrors of the island in the safest place.
The voice rang out sharply from on high, where the diminishing crags were balanced one on another.
"Halt! Who goes there?"
"Roger."
"Advance, friend."
Roger advanced.
"You could see who I was."
"The chief said we got to challenge everyone."
Roger peered up.
"You couldn't stop me coming if I wanted."
"Couldn't I? Climb up and see."
Roger clambered up the ladder-like cliff.
"Look at this."
A log had been jammed under the topmost rock and another lever under that. Robert leaned lightly on the lever and the rock groaned. A full effort would send the rock thundering down to the neck of land. Roger admired.
"He's a proper chief, isn't he?"
Robert nodded.
"He's going to take us hunting."
He jerked his head in the direction of the distant shelters where a thread of white smoke climbed up the sky. Roger, sitting on the very edge of the cliff, looked somberly back at the island as he worked with his fingers at a loose tooth. His gaze settled on the top of the distant mountain and Robert changed the unspoken subject.
"He's going to beat Wilfred."
"What for?"
Robert shook his head doubtfully.
"I don't know. He didn't say. He got angry and made us tie Wilfred up. He's been"―he giggled excitedly―"he's been tied for hours, waiting―"
"But didn't the chief say why?"
"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.