The Bridge in the Jungle (17 page)

'Well,' Sleigh said, 'there is no mystery about that. Anyone can see that.
I
could have told you so before you explained it. Dynamite will blow up anything under heaven, even huge mountains and rock, so why not a human body? Don't tell me bedtime stories. In this case here, man, it won't be so easy for you to explain why that board sailed to the kid as if a captain were sitting on it. And you may believe me, Gales, I've lived long enough among these natives — now a generation, I would say — and I've seen things, my God, remarkable things and strange things which no professor of any American or even Bolshevik college could ever explain, no matter how smart and learned he may say he is. I won't tell you all the things I've seen here. It would be a waste of time, since you wouldn't believe any of them, as I know you don't believe in anything. You are one of the wise guys. Why, I'm sure you don't even believe in ghosts. I do and I could tell you lots about them. But what's the use with a guy like you? The mother of my woman can speak with her dead relatives. What do you say now? — It's no use. Forget it. Want another cup of coffee? Help yourself. There's plenty of it.'

He was right, Sleigh was. It was no use discussing such things with him. He had been living too long with these people and so he had accepted all their beliefs. He believed anything strange he saw or heard of, the same way the Indians did. He wanted to believe them and he never tried to find any sort of natural explanation. That was why such arguments with him moved in a circle and never got beyond. The fact is I was not interested in explaining what I had seen that night. All the events were clear to me. No mystery of any sort. I was under no spell and there was no auto-suggestion. I was not even sleepy or tired. I was fully awake and my mind was fresh. Of course I had no witness. Sleigh was no witness. His criticisms, as far as he criticized anything at all, did not count when dealing with affairs in which Indians were the actors. He thought all Indians possessed mysterious powers and great knowledge of the supernatural. He believed everything they told him or that he heard from his wife. He might doubt the virginity of the Lord's mother, but he never doubted the beliefs of the Indians.

Perhaps it was the environment. Perhaps it was his unshakable faith. I was surprised to find myself beginning to dodge an explanation and I felt a certain comfort in not trying to think things through to the end. And why should I not have let the whole matter rest? One lives easier, happier, more in harmony with the universe, if one does not work one's brain continually about things of which the explanations and analyses cannot make us any happier, usually not even richer, if it is riches we are after. Take life as it is. Here in the jungle, perhaps all over the world, that is the whole meaning of life. What else do you want? What else do you expect? Anything else is negation of life and it is nonsense besides. It is the nonsense out of which grow every heartache, every grief, every evil in the world.

25

Looking up, I saw that Sleigh had left the hut and that he had taken with him the little lamp.

In front of me, on the creaking wicker chair that was so old and shaky that it was sheer wonder how anybody could sit on it without breaking through, sat Perez, the Indian who had fished the kid out of the water. How he had come to be sitting there so suddenly, so unexpectedly, I did not know. I must have been dreaming or asleep while trying to make the world a better place to live in happily. My first impression was that by some magic Sleigh had been changed into Perez.

'Listen, Perez, you promised me two yellowhoods, two young ones, this morning. When do I get them?'

'I haven't been in the bush for some time. I won't go next week either. No time, you know, mister.' He was sitting with his legs spread wide apart and his hands dangling down between them.

'Why don't you go in the bush, Senor Perez? Don't you burn charcoal any more?'

'Well, now see here, mister, it's this way. The gringo that is living up there on the hill where the best trees for charcoal are to be had and where I know the finest yellowhoods you've ever seen in all your life are nesting, well, that goddamned gringo, may he go straight to hell, well, he says, that liar says, that I've stolen one of his mules. That's a lie. It's the biggest lie I've ever heard in all my life. And he says that I'm a damned bandit and a bandolero and a cabron too and that my poor mother is a damned bitch, that's what he says, and he calls himself an educated gringo that has gone to school. But the worst of it, I tell you, mister, is that I, poor Indian as I am, I can do nothing against him, absolutely nothing. I have to suffer it. So you see here, senor, there is no chance to get you the two yellow-hoods I promised you, which would learn to speak in no time. That's why I told you that redhoods are no good. It must be yellowhoods. But it's a big damned lie. I am no bandit. I can swear it.'

'I don't think you're a bandit, Senor Perez, and I don't believe that you ever stole a mule.'

'That's the naked truth, mister. And I can see that you are an educated caballero. I can swear by the Most Holy Virgin in heaven and by the Holy Child also that I know nothing of a stolen mule. If I were a bandit, I tell you, I'd go to hell myself and of my own free will. That gringo up there, he isn't honest. He says he has seen the tracks of my feet right beside those of his mule, which he can recognize, so he says, by the iron shoes, and he says he has seen my tracks and those of his mule right together outside the fence of his pasture and he says he has followed these tracks — I don't know where to, because he doesn't say. Never in all my life did I ever go where he says he has seen my huraches beside the irons of his mule. How do I know who has stolen his mule? It's none of my business.'

'Well, Perez, I've been told that Mister Erskin has said the mule he lost is worth around two hundred and fifty pesos.'

'Bueno, senor, right there you can see what sort of liar that gringo is. Do you know what I've been offered for that mule? Forty pesos I've been offered, and not a single red centavito more have I been paid for that mule by those miserable robbers down there in Llerra. This I swear is the truth. And then this gringo tells the world the mule is worth two hundred and fifty pesos in cold cash and en efectivo. That's the kind of gringos we have around here, who we have to suffer humiliation from. I can only laugh, that's the only thing I can do. And now, to make things still worse, that Americano comes along and says I've stolen his mule. You must admit that's no way to treat poor inoffensive people like us, and in our own country too. But what can we do? Nothing. Just suffer. That's what we can do.'

While he was sitting before me and talking, I could barely see him, because all the light we now had in the hut was the fire on the hearth. And that was not much.

Perez rose, went to the fire, and lit the cigarette he had been rolling while telling me the story of the stolen mule.

Sleigh returned with the little tin bottle lamp and an earthen pot filled with fresh milk.

'The cow has come home at last,' he said on entering. 'The damned devil may know where that poor animal has been all night.'

From a soiled paper bag he dug out coffee with his bare hand, which was dirty from handling the cows. Two handfuls of coffee he threw into the'boiling water. The coffee foamed and ran over into the fire, which sizzled angrily. He took hold of the pot with a rag and set it down on the floor beside us.

'You'll get my cup in a minute,' he said to Perez.

'That's all right by me, don't bother,' the Indian answered.

'Listen, Perez, was that kid lying flat on the bottom or what was his position?' Sleigh asked.

'No, he wasn't exactly at the bottom. He didn't even touch the bottom so far as I could make out. His feet and hands were stuck in water shrubs. He was, in a way, sitting in the shrubs. If you ask me, I don't believe he would ever have come up if we hadn't dragged him out. The plants held him like the many arms of an ugly monster.'

'How did you know, Perez, that the kid was stuck just at that place and in no other?' I asked.

'That was very easy to know,' he said. 'There was no mystery about that. The light was standing right above him. You could see that for yourself. Anyone could have fished him out after the light had settled over him.'

'Yes, I saw the light standing there above him. Only the question is, how did the light know he was there? '

'Nothing simpler than that, mister. The kid was calling the light to come to him and show us the way. So the light had to obey, and it came. There is nothing strange about that. It's quite natural. Anyone can see that.'

Sleigh laughed right out. 'Well, there you heard it with your own ears. Are you satisfied now?' He grinned at me. 'Any more foolish questions now? I told you so before. It's all quite natural. Nothing strange about it. That's the whole mystery. In fact, there is no mystery at all. Here the Indians can't practise any more magic than you can or me. The kid calls the light and the light has to obey orders and goes to him. Everything is as clear and bright as sunlight. That's all natural. That's what I told you all the time.'

No use. So I spoke again to the man who seemed still to be the saner of the two. 'Well, Perez, now what about the two young yellowhoods?'

'I don't go up in the bush. Besides there would be no reason for going there now. They started to sit only a few days ago. I know it. A friend who had been up there told me. Why should I crawl through that damn thorny thicket if I can't get any. Because there are none to be had just at this time of the year. Two months later it will be easy and you can have a half-dozen if you wish.'

He had his coffee now and was sipping it slowly like a critical connoisseur of drinks. Sleigh poured me another cup and took the rest of the pot over to the Garcia's party.

After a short while he returned, went to the hearth, and lit a new cigarette. Then he squatted Indian fashion on the floor facing Perez and me, who were sitting on his rotten wicker chairs.

The baby of the girl under the mosquito bar whined softly. From the movement of the bar and by the gleam of the fire I saw the girl giving her baby to drink. Before the baby was satisfied, while he was still suckling, the girl snored again so heavily that the hut trembled.

Both Perez and Sleigh got sleepy, let their heads drop upon their chests, and blinked into emptiness. In his sleep Sleigh sensed that his cigarette had gone out. He rose swaying as if he were drunk and walked in a shuffling manner to the hearth. His cigarette again lit, he leaned against a post and dozed off again.

He slept only a few minutes. He woke up and walked to the door. Looking up to the sky, which had begun to clear and in which a few stars could be seen now, he said: 'It is just past two. I thought it later.'

I looked at my watch and said: 'Twenty past.'

'I'll have to go to milk the cows now or they'll get restless and start for the prairie. Perez, are you coming with me?'

'Of course, vamonos!' He was so fast asleep that his cigarette had dropped without his being aware of it. Now he looked for it, lit it, and followed Sleigh, who, with a bucket in one hand, had already walked off to the corral.

He shouted back: 'Hey, Gales, why don't you turn in for a coupla hours? You must be dog-tired and it will surely do you lots of good. Don't you bother about me, man, I've got to get busy with them cows, you know. Hi, Perez, where are you? Are you coming?'

Perez, just leaving the hut, said: 'Now, don't you holler, amigo. Here I am, always on the spot, just call on me for any trouble. Who, por la Santisima, put that damned log right in my way? Anyone could break his neck here, what with all sorts of sticks, logs, and stones lying about.'

26

As Perez had taken the little lamp with him, the hut was dark once more. A few forlorn embers gleamed on the hearth.

I was left alone and since I did not know what better I could do, I groped my way towards the corner where the bed I had slept in last night and the night before was. It wasn't a bed in the true sense of the word. It was more like a corrupted hammock.

The bed in which Sleigh and his wife slept was shoved against one wall. It was similar to the one the Garcias had, but the network was made more carefully and the mattress consisted of a softer fibre. The corner in which the family bed stood was separated from the main room by a wall of sticks six feet high. The sticks which formed that wall were so far apart that one could put his finger between them. To get some privacy Sleigh's woman had put up on this wall a few pieces of threadbare cotton goods.

Well, I was tired. I took off my boots, unfastened my belt, and, sailor fashion, crawled into that hammock, which only the greedy landlady of a cheap boarding-house would call a cot.

Bridges, rivers without a downstream current, mule-drivers yelling for more coffee, alligators, asthmatic pumps which cough, queens of England waving a ragged handkerchief, bodies of little babies, naked Indians (some of them armless), black-haired heads popping out of prairie grass, lighted candles swimming under water like fish, cows with cougars on their necks, mouth-organs which play by themselves nailed to bridge posts, bandits riding on white burros, a picture of the Holy Virgin singing on a fiddle, Canada vanished from the earth and leaving mere emptiness behind, a few blurred lines from a Kansas City paper printed in Texas on a goat ranch, an oil well cemented with a splash in the water caused by a jumping bean, a girl with flowers in her hair dancing with a steel spring mattress which belongs to the president, a young woman with wreaths of fire-red flowers wound around her knees bent in an awkward position and crying: 'No, no, I won't, I won't, don't you dare, no, no, I say no and no,' battered enamelled cups without bottoms but full of hot coffee and flying across a white table on which a sailor suit is weeping bitterly, a five-gallon hat walking through the night with no face under it — no, to hell with it, I could not sleep. Maybe it was the coffee. My head whirled. Yet I was as tired as a coal-heaver on a death ship. At last I dozed off, but not for long and I saw Mr Erskin lying at the bottom of the river moving his hands and shouting: 'Bring me a lantern which will obey orders, a lantern, please, a lantern for all my mules!' The water was very deep, twenty feet past two in the morning, but still I could see him because the water was lighted at the bottom. I didn't know Mr Erskin, I had never seen him, yet I knew it was he who sat on eggs and hatched grown-up yellow-hoods which sang a song about oilmen who made cigars out of cement. Nobody but me could see Mr Erskin lying in the water and I shouted to the people: 'There are two little American boots in the river.' Nobody listened and they said: 'We'd better put a crown on his head and say it is a sceptre of the Toltecs.' Chinamen were coming and there was an explosion in the lake and a coffee pot drowned in a sack half filled with corn-cobs and held fast by alligators jumped high up in the air and a man dropped out of the pitch-dark clouds. He was an aviator milking a cow which had come home late and drunk, telling a little tin bottle lamp that two tigers and two lions went to a dance with the musicians stuck deep in the mud. And again dynamite was thrown in the lake and it exploded with a hundred reverberations.