Norrie did not answer that. The forest appeared to absorb his attention.
“Is there anything else for me to do? He can’t be allowed to go alone. It is impossible for you to go. I’m free.”
“So is he free, free not to go.”
“I don’t think he is. He’s obsessed.”
“And you are free.”
“Of course. I know what I’m doing.”
“Nothing to argue about?”
“Not that I can see.”
“Who made you his keeper?”
Colet waited, without an answer. The men were beginning to pack. In the woods the bird that whistled like an idle boy was having no success with the tune. The dissolving of the mist uncovered areas of the distant forested hilltops to the young sun; green islands were floating high in the blue. Norrie was contemplating that daily miracle of the morning, the late descent from heaven of the hilltops to join the earth. Then he addressed the hilltops:
“Of all the blether. Of all the sacred, predestined and inevitable Gothamites. Isn’t one enough? What is he going to do? Leave his luck, turn the other way, and toddle after a crank searching for what people won’t look at when it is found.”
“That isn’t it.”
“Then what the devil is it?”
Colet had no answer. Norrie strode farther away, but after a while he turned about as though some of his heat had gone, and faced Colet.
“I might have expected this. I suppose you’re bound to follow your selfish conscience, which is thinking only of its own comfort?”
“I suppose so.”
“Your sort always do. They’re an infernal nuisance to the world. No good talking sense to a noble conscience. That will find all the reasons there are for pleasing itself. You’re as bad as the old fool himself. But don’t forget I’ve got my follies. As it happens, I prefer you to the other loony’s books. And do you know that when you go this morning that will be the last of you? Your enemies will never see you again.”
“Leave that to me. I’ll bear it in mind.”
“I know. But it won’t be enough. You’ll learn that a pure intention is of no special value in a cataract. It won’t even keep off amoebic dysentery or blowflies. You’ll never get that man over the range—and if you do you’ll regret it. Let him be. He’ll fall sick again soon, and the Malays will bring him down to the coast. I’ve reckoned on that.”
“It isn’t their job. We can’t reckon on it. Would you reckon on that in my case?”
“All right. All right. But this is what will happen. You’ll carry him to a place where you can’t get him forward and can’t get him back. Your good intention will do him harm.”
“I’ll watch it. I’ll put it down in the diary when the child is to be kidnapped.”
Norrie began to pace to and fro. He did not look at his friend. He kept up his patrol for so long that Colet began to weaken. One thing was certain. It was impossible to be fair to everybody. Doing the right thing meant that some man would get hurt. But at last, when about to pass him again, Norrie paused behind him, and rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment. Colet, touched, turned about quickly. But Norrie was not looking at him. He was watching Parsell and the Malays.
“I’ll call this destiny; and there you are. That’s what it means for you. Just look at the fellow. There’s his view of the job in front of him. He’s reciting the mantras to the men, the runes for a safe journey. They think he’s a pawang, a sorcerer … and confound him, so he is. He’s conjured something out of me.”
They both watched the play for some minutes. It afforded a composing interval. Norrie then began to move towards the hut again.
“Come along, Colet. No good mooning here, listening to a shaman averting malaria and crocodiles. I’ve got some things to say to you. In any case, we must be off.”
When they had entered the shelter Norrie selected a gun. “Just once more,” he said, “I suppose it is no good talking to you?”
“I don’t want to be persuaded. I might be easily persuaded.”
“Then, you take this gun along, for one thing. I’m pretty sure the ethnologist has got nothing but callipers. That would stop an elephant … if you stop the old shaman with it, when his antics look dangerous, you won’t hear a word from this admirer of his. I’ve still got one or two of his books to read—I’ve got some of him untouched, in store—so don’t hesitate on my account.”
He was examining the gun. “I don’t like to lose it, but I suppose it must go. Another little matter, Colet. Parsell isn’t aware of it, but his packs already hold some of our supplies. His medicine chest wasn’t fit to apply to a village dog, and his grub was sketchy. His Malay guide knows where the stuff is. And now that there are two imbeciles instead of one, I’ve got to waste more time over it … but perhaps I ought to show some gratitude to you for offering to nurse one of my pets.”
They had the maps spread out on the floor, and kneeled to them. Colet began to come down to some considerations which he had not supposed were in the journey. It looked a formidable distance, on the chart, and the greater length of it was supported by very few names. It would have been a different affair, Colet saw then, to do that with Norrie; who indeed, began to grow interested as he worked it out, as though he were projecting a new and spacious experience for himself. He lost himself in it. They were rolling up the charts, and putting them into rubber bags, when Mr. Parsell began to come their way. Norrie studied him deliberately.
“Listen. Don’t let that man linger. Make him get along, short of breaking him. He’ll want to sit down
