Atta (1953) by Francis Rufus Bellamy
Page 7
our four enemies.
“Then why don’t we knock off work and go get a few?”
I suggested.
“Only because I don’t know how to milk one,” he confessed rather shamefacedly. “I don’t belong to that class.”
’“Well, I do,” I asserted. “In my country any man can
milk anything from an aphid to a dragon.”
In that case, he agreed, there was no reason why we
should not undertake another scouting expedition; and I
soon suspected that the prospect was as attractive to him,
after his days of hard labor, as it was to me. Indeed, he
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53
spent the rest of the afternoon polishing and burnishing
his armor; and the next morning it was he who woke me
at sunrise so that we might get off to an early start.
“Oh,” I said, “so you really want to go?”
“I can’t let you go alone/’ he said. “You might never return.”
I smiled to myself, for his eyes were bright, and I knew
that he liked nothing better than distant forays in the
jungle. Yet I must do him the justice to admit that his
words were not all pretense. He was devotedly attached
to me, and in the end he proved it in a manner I cannot
forget. Indeed I am old now, and it is forty years since
Atta was my companion in the adventures that these
pages are chronicling; yet not a day passes that I do
not think of him and of those old adventurous days with
regret and longing. How gladly would I set out again as
I did that bright summer morning, with my ax on my
shoulder and Atta by my side, into the jungle teeming
with mysterious life! How gaily even the sun shone, and
with what high spirits we went forward to meet whatever the day had in store for us of good' or evil!
I had now, in addition to my ax and bow, a very passable lasso, coiled over my shoulder so as to leave my hands free, as well as a dagger with a wooden handle,
the razor-blade a sharp crystal seven inches long. This
I kept thrust through my belt, ready to hand. I had also
filled my pockets with mushrooms enough to last three
days, lest we be delayed in our return. I felt well fortified
against misadventure.
It was a hot, dry day and the trees rasped and scraped
together with a continuous sharp sound in the breeze.
We had had no rain for two weeks, and the tree spears
seemed to have become very dry and brittle in the hot
sun. But Atta had assured me that we need not expect
rain for at least two days more, and I felt exceedingly
cheerful. For I had nearly as high a respect for his
weather predictions as for the character and power of
the storms themselves. Reassured by his prediction, I
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A T T A
entertained no fears; and so volatile is man’s spirit, even
in adversity, that I am willing to confess that I even sang
as we plunged into the jungle beyond our low thistle
hedge.
We traveled rapidly this time, too, without rope or baggage to encumber us, and we reached the plateau long before noon, as the shadows attested. One of Atta’s reasons for wanting to start early had been a wish to explore the steep stone cliff in both directions, that we might
find some easy way of getting down it. For Atta was quite
sure not only that our best eventual path out lay through
the jungle valley but also that only in the green uplands
on its far side should we find any aphids.
Whatever the validity of this conjecture, our first view
of the cliffs was not a reassuring one. Again, as far as the
eye could reach, they stretched on both sides of us above
the gorgeously colored carpet of the valley below. Again
the valley itself presented its yellows and reds and
browns. Only the violets and purples were missing now -
sad signs, I supposed, of the passing of early summer.
Otherwise the scene was unchanged, even to the green
meadows on the rising upland mountains opposite and
the incredible cuplike gargantuan trees that topped the
far-distant ridge. It was a vista of magnificent proportions, trembling on the edge of memory and yet familiar once more, bringing into sharp relief the moment when
it had burst upon me as I stood in front of my metal
shelter. Even this was still where I had left it—still resembled a giant thimble slightly weathered and discolored on the rims where rain and sun had touched it.
But of a way down the cliffs there was none.
“We’d better take a look from the ravine,” Atta suggested.
The suggestion repelled me slightly, with the picture
it brought up of the black stranger lying crushed beneath
me beside the boulder and my own perspiring hands still
clutching my crystal ax. But I could think of no good
reason for not discovering what lay beneath the ledge
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55
above the valley, and we walked back to where the cleft
began and descended the declivity slowly, eyes alert for
any signs of our former enemies. No living thing was in
sight; there was no trace of our recent battle, and to my
surprise even the corpses of our antagonists were gone.
Only the glass crystals glittered slightly in the rubbish
beyond the boulder, and at the bottom of the ravine the
green light of the jungle valley trees shone on the ledge.
When we reached this and paused and sitting on its
edge looked out and down, an expression of what I can
only name anticipation flitted across Atta’s features. This
was called forth by the character of the cliff beneath us.
Only for some twenty feet did it fall away sheer. Then
came another ledge; and this seemed almost supported
by the apex of a huge mound of rock and debris that
spread down below the trees to the ground at an angle
sharp but climbable. It was as if in ages past the ravine
behind us had poured rock and sand from its open mouth
until the residue had almost reached its parent. Anyone
who could reach the secondary ledge twenty feet below
could easily descend into the valley.
“This is the sort of thing for which ropes were made,”
I remarked, and began uncoiling my lasso, intending to
fasten one end of it around a boulder and slide down to
the ledge below.
But Atta would have none of it.
For days he had been urging me to permit him to carry
me over rough spots, just to show how easily it could be
done. Now he saw his opportunity, and he did not intend to be robbed of it. “We don’t need ropes,” he exclaimed. “I’ll carry you.” And before I could remonstrate or resist he had seized me about the waist and, despite
my protests, was carrying me over the ledge and straight
down the wall.
Never shall I forget my sensations as we went over
the edge and down the almost perpendicular cliff. I had
sense enough to seize the loose coils of my lasso and hold
them tight, and I stopped struggling almost immediately,
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A T T A
but I assure you that my heart leaped into my mouth
and every hair on my head stood on end.
It did not last long, however. Atta w
ent down as fast
as his sure-footed legs could cany him, which was considerably faster than a horse can trot, and he deposited me unharmed and slightly ashamed at the far bottom of
the conelike heap of rubbish in less time than I should
have taken to lower myself to the first ledge, now far
above us. “There,” he said rather smugly, “you were
perfectly safe, and we have saved good rope and time.”
Now that I was secure on level ground and had had
time To get over my first alarm I had to admit that he
was right. I did so with as good grace as I could muster.
“Very pretty,” I said, “if you’ll tell me how we are to get
up there again.”
That was simplicity itself, he said; he would merely
take my rope in his beak, climb the wall, and pull me up
after him! This was such a triumph of sagacity after the
fact that I had much ado not to burst out laughing. But
it put me in a good humor again with my companion, and
eventually with myself, and soon we were traversing the
valley floor as if nothing had happened.
Here, however, I had another kind of difficulty. The
land in the valley bottom, fairly level when seen from the
top of the cliffs, proved at close range to be a loose rubble
of earth clods and small stones very lightly packed. It
offered no trouble to Atta, but for me it was far more
difficult to traverse than the dense jungles and rough
boulder-strewn glades about our house. I toiled and
struggled along it, hampered by my heavy as and the
coil of rope about my shoulder, until at last, as I was
hurrying over a smoother bit in a vain endeavor to catch
up with Atta, a piece of treacherous crust gave way and
I fell flat on my face into a small underground cavern.
I had shouted to Atta as I fell, and he came running back
and dragged me out, unhurt but thoroughly discouraged.
“There’s no use my going any farther,” I said. “I can’t
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57
make a mile an hour over this country. We had better
give it up.”
But Atta would not hear of this. “We have only a
short way to go,” he objected. He pointed ahead through
a break in the roof of huge pale-green leaves to where
the ground rose toward the uplands covered with green
meadows and dotted with dark masses of red and brown
vegetation. “Look!” he exclaimed. “Ten to one we’ll find
aphids there. Why not let me carry you? I would have
offered before, but I thought you didn’t like it.”
“Of course I don’t like it,” I replied irritably. “Being
carried around is too silly for words. Suppose some one
should see us--- ”
I stopped suddenly, remembering what small likelihood there was of our being seen by any creatures even remotely resembling human beings. Indeed, I asked myself, was I not a hundred times more ridiculous as well as a thousand times more uncomfortable, floundering
along alone in my awkwardness than I should be were
Atta to carry me?
“Very well,” I said, as he continued to urge the quite
obvious unreasonableness of my objections, “carry me
if you insist. But the quicker we get there the better, for
I certainly don’t enjoy it.”
Without more ado he picked me up and bore me rapidly and without a single false step over the uneven floor of the valley toward the western uplands. They loomed
ever higher before us as we proceeded, all the different
colors of their surface now thrown into bold relief where
the rays of the sun struck slightly slantwise across them.
In some places they were of an exceedingly bright green,
and this reassured me. For the vegetation in the valley
was quite evidently all of the same kind, with nowhere
any signs of bushes bearing fruit or berries or anything
upon which aphids might feed.
Presently, however, the ground began to slope gently
upward, covered with occasional green creepers over
huge jagged rocks that barred the way; and beside one
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A T T A
of these Atta at length set me down. It had taken him
less than a quarter of an hour to cross the valley, a distance of nearly two miles; he had not paused or hesitated once, yet he seemed in no need of rest, and without a
word of explanation to me he set off at once to skirt the
foot of the uplands and find a place that offered easy
ascent.
From where I stood I could no longer see the red and
brown hills, but the ground was more open than before
immediately around me, and in one place a great green
creeper four or five feet thick hung down from a rock,
reaching from top to bottom and trailing for several yards
along the earth in front of me. As I looked I thought I
could make out something moving on it, and I approached
it cautiously, my ax held ready in my hands.
Above, the bark was heavy and the creeper thick, but
as it neared the ground the bark grew thinner until toward the ends of the fronds it was smooth and of a uniform light green color, with irregularly shaped leaves like huge, twenty-foot painters' palettes and occasional sharp
thorns a foot or two long. As I came nearer one of these
thorns suddenly moved several feet down the trunk, and
I stopped a moment in alarm, wondering if the whole
creeper was alive. Anything was possible in this country.
But nothing more happened, and I went on again, still
cautiously, until I was within three yards of it. Then I
saw that what I had supposed to be a thorn was in reality
a small light-green creature with long, very slender legs
and a small round body, who was busily boring into the
stock of the creeper with a long bill something like a
woodcock’s. He paid no attention to me as I came up,
and I saw that there were fifteen or twenty more like
him, all motionless and, as I supposed, sucking up the
juices of the plant through their bills. I was still watching them in astonishment when Atta returned to tell me he had found a path toward the uplands. He called to me
as he came, and I had no chance to direct his attention
to my find. For just as I was about to ask him if these
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59
creatures were not his vaunted aphids, I caught a glint
of polished black armor in the jungle in back of him, and
I pulled him quickly behind another rock, where we
crouched in silence, waiting to see what was coming.
Presently, out of the jungle, a long line of black Formi-
cans appeared. They approached rapidly, following
roughly the trail up which we had come, and doing it
with the greatest of ease. There were fifteen or twenty of
them, and when they reached the ground below us they
turned and came directly toward us.
It seemed impossible that they could have seen us, for
we had remained motionless behind our rock, and only
my head could have been visible as I peered around at
them. Yet, even if they did not intend to attack, they
could scarcely miss us now, for their present line of
march would take them within a few feet of the rock behind whic
h we were hidden. Fortunately there was an irregular hollow under the boulder—a small cave, in fact,
in which, if, as seemed likely, they were in a hurry and
did not stop to reconnoiter, we might escape detection.
We crawled in and awaited the .event, I could hear
them chattering together as they came on, and the crunch
of loose pebbles under their feet. Nearer and nearer they
came. And then, just as I was crouching lower, expecting
any moment to see their shadows across the mouth of
our hiding place, they stopped. For several minutes we
lay perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. Perhaps, I
thought, they had discovered where we were and were
silently creeping up to surround the rock.
I unsiung my bow and fitted an arrow to the string,'
resolved to make short work of the first who should
darken the opening. But none came; there was no sound
of stealthy movements; and at last I crept on hands and
knees to the edge of the cave and looked out. There was
nothing in sight, and I rose cautiously and peered over
the top of the boulder.
To my surprise nearly all the Formicans had disappeared somewhere. The rest, four or five, had climbed up
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A T T A
on the green trunk of the creeper and were walking up
and down among the slender-legged green creatures, apparently milking them, and stopping now and then to stroke them gently with their feelers. Presently all five,
having satisfied their thirst, climbed down from the
creeper and also disappeared behind the huge rock,
where, Atta guessed, the entrance to their camp must
be, he having crept out beside me in the meantime.
This meant, Atta whispered, that the best thing for us
to do was to get away as quickly as we could.
He said this very urgently, but for once I did not agree.
“I came out to get a couple of aphids,” I objected in a low
tone. “Aren’t these aphids?”
Yes, they were aphids, Atta admitted, but these Formi-
eans were savages and in too great numbers for us to
stand off if we were caught making off with their cattle.
“Maybe we shan’t get caught,” I said. “You watch here
while I go and investigate the rock.”