LITMIR.BIZ

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accounted for the disagreeable stench of the place.

      The little pink sloth creature was still blinking at me when my Ape Man reappeared at the aperture of the nearest of these dens, and beckoned me in. As he did so a slouching monster wriggled out of one of the places further up this strange street, and stood up in featureless silhouette against the bright green beyond, staring at me. I hesitated — had half a mind to bolt the way I had come — and then, determined to go through with the adventure, gripped my nailed stick about the middle, and crawled into the little evil-smelling lean-to after my conductor.

      It was a semicircular space, shaped like the half of a beehive, and against the rocky wall that formed the inner side of it was a pile of variegated fruits, cocoanuts and others. Some rough vessels of lava and wood stood about the floor, and one on a rough stool. There was no fire. In the darkest corner of the hut sat a shapeless mass of darkness that grunted `Hey!’ as I came in, and my Ape Man stood in the dim light of the doorway and held out a split cocoanut to me as I crawled into the other corner and squatted down. I took it and began gnawing it, as serenely as possible in spite of my tense trepidation and the nearly intolerable closeness of the den. The little pink sloth creature stood in the aperture of the hut, and something else with a drab face and bright eyes came staring over its shoulder.

      `Hey,’ came out of the lump of mystery opposite. `It is a man! It is a man!’ gabbled my conductor — ‘ a man, a man, a live man, like me.’

      `Shut up,’ said the voice from the dark, and grunted. I gnawed my cocoanut amid an impressive silence. I peered hard into the blackness, but could distinguish nothing. `It is a man,’ the voice repeated. `He comes to live with us?’ It was a thick voice with something in it, a kind of whistling overtone, that struck me as peculiar, but the English accent was strangely good.

      The Ape Man looked at me as though he expected something. I perceived the pause was interrogative.

      `He comes to live with you,’ I said.

      `It is a man. He must learn the Law.’

      I began to distinguish now a deeper blackness in the black, a vague outline of a hunched-up figure. Then I noticed the opening of the place was darkened by two more heads. My hand tightened on my stick. The thing in the dark repeated in a louder tone, `Say the words.’ I had missed its last remark. `Not to go on all-Fours; that is the Law’ — it repeated in a kind of singsong.

      I was puzzled. `Say the words,’ said the Ape Man, repeating, and the figures in the doorway echoed this with a threat in the tone of their voices. I realised I had to repeat this idiotic formula. And then began the insanest ceremony. The voice in the dark began intoning a mad litany, line by line, and I and the rest to repeat it. As they did so, they swayed from side to side, and beat their hands upon their knees, and I followed their example. I could have imagined I was already dead and in another world. The dark hut, these grotesque dim figures, just flicked here and there by a glimmer of light, and all of them swaying in unison and chanting:

      `Not to go on all-Fours; that is the Law. Are we not Men?’

      `Not to suck up Drink; that is the Law. Are we not Men?’

      `Not to eat Flesh or Fish; that is the Law. Are we not Men?’

      `Not to claw Bark of Trees; that is the Law. Are we not Men?’

      `Not to chase other Men; that is the Law. Are we not Men?’

      And so from the prohibition of these acts of folly, on to the prohibition of what I thought then were the maddest, most impossible and most indecent things one could well imagine. A kind of rhythmic fervour fell on all of us; we gabbled and swayed faster and faster, repeating this amazing law. Superficially the contagion of these brute men was upon me, but deep down within me laughter and disgust struggled together. We ran through a long list of prohibitions, and then the chant swung round to a new formula:

      `His is the House of Pain.

      `His is the Hand that makes.

      `His is the Hand that wounds.

      `His is the Hand that heals.’

      And so on for another long series, mostly quite incomprehensible gibberish to me, about Him, whoever he might be. I could have fancied it was a dream, but never before have I heard chanting in a dream.

      `His is the lightning-flash,’ we sang. `His is the deep salt sea.’

      A horrible fancy came into my head that Moreau, after animalising these men, had infected their dwarfed brains with a kind of deification of himself. However, I was too keenly aware of white teeth and strong claws about me to stop my chanting on that account. `His are the stars in the sky.’

      At last that song ended. I saw the Ape Man’s face shining with perspiration, and my eyes being now accustomed to the darkness, I saw more distinctly the figure in the corner from which the voice came. It was the size of a man, but it seemed covered with a dull grey hair almost like a Skye terrier. What was it? What were they all? Imagine yourself surrounded by all the most horrible cripples and maniacs it is possible to conceive, and you may understand a little of my feelings with these grotesque caricatures of humanity about me.

      `He is a five-man, a five-man, a five-man… like me,’ said the Ape Man.

      I held out my hands. The grey creature in the corner leant forward. `Not to run on all-Fours; that is the Law. Are we not Men?’ he said. He put out a strangely distorted talon, and gripped my fingers. The thing was almost like the hoof of a deer produced into claws. I could have yelled with surprise and pain. His face came forward and peered at my nails, came forward into the light of the opening of the hut, and I saw with a quivering disgust that it was like the face of neither man nor beast, but a mere shock of grey hair, with three shadowy overarchings to mark the eyes and mouth.

      `He has little nails,’ said this grisly creature in his hairy beard. `It is well. Many are troubled with big nails.’

      He threw my hand down, and instinctively I gripped my stick. `Eat roots and herbs — it is His will,’ said the Ape Man.

      `I am the Sayer of the Law,’ said the grey figure. `Here come all that be new, to learn the Law. I sit in the darkness and say the Law.’

      `It is even so,’ said one of the beasts in the doorway.

      `Evil are the punishments of those who break the Law. None escape.’

      `None escape,’ said the Beast folk, glancing furtively at each other.

      `None, none,’ said the Ape Man. `None escape. See! I did a little thing, a wrong thing once. I jabbered, jabbered, stopped talking. None could understand. I am burnt, branded in the hand. He is great, he is good!’

      `None escape, said the great creature in the corner.

      `None escape, said the Beast People, looking askance at one another.

      `For every one the want that is bad,’ said the grey Sayer of the Law. `What you will want, we do not know. We shall know. Some want to follow things that move, to watch and slink and wait and spring, to kill and bite, bite deep and rich, sucking the blood…. It is bad. “Not to chase other Men; that is the Law. Are we not Men? Not to eat Flesh nor Fish; that is the Law. Are we not Men?”’

      `None escape, said a dappled brute standing in the doorway.

      `For every one the want that is bad,’ said the grey Sayer of the Law. `Some want to go tearing with teeth and hands into the roots of things, snuffing into the earth…. It is bad.’

      `None escape, said the men in the door.

      `Some go clawing trees, some go scratching at the graves of the dead; some go fighting with foreheads or feet or claws; some bite suddenly, none giving occasion; some love uncleanness.’

      `None escape,’ said the Ape Man, scratching his calf.

      `None escape,’ said the little pink sloth creature.

      `Punishment is sharp and sure. Therefore learn the Law. Say the words,’ and incontinently he began again the strange

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