Under the Volcano - Malcolm Lowry [115]
And what of the other passengers, the younger women in mourning--there were no women in mourning; they'd all got out, apparently, and walked; since death, by the roadside, must not be allowed to interfere with one's plans for resurrection, in the cemetery. And the men in the purple shirts, who'd had a good look at what was going on, yet hadn't stirred from the bus? Mystery. No one could be more courageous than a Mexican. But this was not clearly a situation demanding courage. Frijoles for all: Tierra. Libertad. Justicia y Ley. Did all that mean anything? ¿Quién sabe? They weren't sure of anything save that it was foolish to get mixed up with the police, especially if they weren't proper police; and this went equally for the man who'd plucked Hugh's sleeve, and the two other passengers who'd joined in the argument around the Indian, now all dropping off the bus going full speed, in their graceful, devil-may-care fashion.
While as for him, the hero of the Soviet Republic and the True Church, what or, him, old camarado, had he been found wanting? Not a bit of it. With the unerring instinct of all war correspondents with any first-aid training he had been only too ready to produce the wet blue bag, the lunar caustic, the earner's hair brush.
He had remembered instantly that the word shelter must be understood as including an extra wrap or umbrella or temporary protection against the rays of the sun. He had been on the lookout immediately for possible clues to diagnosis such as broken ladders, stains of blood, moving machinery, and restive horses. He had, but it hadn't done any good, unfortunately.
And the truth was, it was perhaps one of those occasions when nothing would have done any good. Which only made it worse than ever. Hugh raised his head and half looked at Yvonne. The Consul had taken her hand and she was holding his hand tightly.
The camión, hastening towards Tomalín, rolled and swayed as before. Some more boys had jumped on the rear, and were whistling. The bright tickets winked with the bright colours. There were more passengers, they came running across the fields, and the men looked at each other with an air of agreement, the bus was out-doing itself, it had never before gone so fast, which must be because it too knew today was a holiday.
An acquaintance of the driver's, perhaps the driver for the return journey, had by now added himself to the vehicle. He dodged round the outside of the bus with native skill, taking the fares through the open windows. Once, when they were breasting an incline, he even dropped off to the road on the left, swerved round behind the camión at a run, to appear again on the rights grinning in at them clownishly.
A friend of his sprang on the bus. They crouched, one on either side of the bonnet, by the two front mudguards, every so often joining hands over the radiator cap, while the first man, leaning dangerously outwards, looked back to see if one of the rear tyres, which had acquired a slow puncture, was holding. Then he went on taking fares.
Dust, dust, dust--it filtered in through the windows, a soft invasion of dissolution, filling the vehicle.
Suddenly the Consul was nudging Hugh, inclining his head towards the pelado, whom Hugh had not forgotten however: he had been sitting bolt upright all this time, fidgeting with something in his lap, coat buttoned, both hats on, crucifix adjusted, and wearing much the same expression as before, though after his oddly exemplary behaviour in the road, he seemed much refreshed and sobered.
Hugh nodded, smiling, lost interest; the Consul nudged him
again:
"Do you see what I see?"
"What is it?"
Hugh shook his head, looked obediently towards the pelado, could see nothing, then saw, at first without comprehending.
The pelado's smeared conquistador's hands, that had clutched the melon, now clutched a sad bloodstained pile of silver pesos and centavos.
The pelado had stolen the dying Indian's money.
Moreover, surprised at this point by the conductor grinning in the window, he carefully selected some coppers from this little pile, smiled round at the preoccupied passengers as though he almost expected some comment to be made upon his cleverness, and paid his fare with them.