THE MARVELLOUS THING IS
THAT IT’S painless," he said. "That's
how you know when it starts."
"Is it really?"
"Absolutely. I'm awfully sorry about
the odor though. That must bother
you."
"Don't! Please don't."
"Look at them," he said. "Now is it
sight or is it scent that brings them
like that?"
The cot the man lay on was in the
wide shade of a mimosa tree and
as he looked out past the shade
onto the glare of the plain there
were three of the big birds squatted
obscenely, while in the sky a dozen
more sailed, making quick-moving
shadows as they passed.
"They've been there since the day
the truck broke down," he said.
"Today's the first time any have lit
on the ground. I watched the way
they sailed very carefully at first
in case I ever wanted to use them
in a story. That's funny now.""I wish
you wouldn't," she said.
"I'm only talking," he said. "It's much
easier if I talk. But I don't want to
bother you."
"You know it doesn't bother me," she
said. "It's that I've gotten so very
nervous not being able to do
anything. I think we might make it
as easy as we can until the plane
comes."
"Or until the plane doesn't come."
"Please tell me what I can do. There
must be something I can do.
"You can take the leg off and that
might stop it, though I doubt it. Or
you can shoot me. You're a good
shot now. I taught you to shoot,
didn't I?"
"Please don't talk that way.
Couldn't I read to you?"
"Read what?"
"Anything in the book that we
haven't read."
"I can't listen to it," he said." Talking
is the easiest. We quarrel and that
makes the time pass."
"I don't quarrel. I never want to
quarrel. Let's not quarrel any
more. No matter how nervous we
get. Maybe they will be back with
another truck today. Maybe the
plane will come."
"I don't want to move," the man
said. "There is no sense in moving
now except to make it easier for
you."
"That's cowardly."
"Can't you let a man die as
comfortably as he can without
calling him names? What's the use
of clanging me?"
"You're not going to die."
"Don't be silly. I'm dying now. Ask
those bastards." He looked over to
where the huge, filthy birds sat,
their naked heads sunk in the
hunched feathers. A fourth planed
down, to run quick-legged and then
waddle slowly toward the others.
"They are around every camp. You
never notice them. You can't die if
you don't give up."
"Where did you read that? You're
such a bloody fool."
"You might think about some one
else."
"For Christ's sake," he said, "that's
been my trade."
He lay then and was quiet for a
while and looked across the heat
shimmer of the plain to the edge of
the bush. There were a few Tommies
that showed minute and white
against the yellow and, far off, he
saw a herd of zebra, white against
the green of the bush. This was a
pleasant camp under big trees
against a hill, with good water,
and close by, a nearly dry water
hole where sand grouse flighted in
the mornings.
"Wouldn't you like me to read?" she
asked. She was sitting on a canvas
chair beside his cot. "There's a
breeze coming up.
"No thanks."
"Maybe the truck will come."
"I don't give a damn about the
truck."
"I do."
"You give a damn about so many
things that I don't."
"Not so many, Harry."
"What about a drink?"
"It's supposed to be bad for you. It
said in Black's to avoid all alcohol.
You shouldn't drink."
"Molo!" he shouted.
"Yes Bwana."
"Bring whiskey-soda."
"Yes Bwana."
"You shouldn't," she said. "That's
what I mean by giving up. It says
it's
bad for you. I know it's bad for
you."
"No," he said. "It's good for me."
So now it was all over, he thought.
So now he would never have a
chance
to finish it. So this was the way it
ended, in a bickering over a drink.
Since
the gangrene started in his right
leg he had no pain and with the
pain the
horror had gone and all he felt
now was a great tiredness and
anger that this was the end of it.
For this, that now was coming, he
had very little curiosity.
For years it had obsessed him; but
now it meant nothing in itself. It
was
strange how easy being tired
enough made it.
Title : Snows of kilimanjaro
Description : THE MARVELLOUS THING IS THAT IT’S painless," he said. "That's how you know when it starts." "Is it really?" ...