Eighteen

Abstract

More and more people were coming to the crater. Pithecanthropus—having eaten his fill—had retired to a corner of his cage. He stared incredulously at the crowd surrounding him. He was worried. Confusing sentiments and ideas were interwoven in his being. One thing he couldn’t unlerstand was Gleam’s order to give him bananas. If I’d been in his shoes, I wouldn’t have given the enemy as much as the skins. What does this bastard have in mind? Maybe he’s testing me, to see if I’ll give in. It’s strange. In that case he would have denied me everything. No. That’s not what he’s after. Probably he did it so that when he does deprive me, I’ll suffer more. Yes that must be it. Meanwhile, the Amautas continued arriving. As always, so to speak, they sprouted from the volcanic walls. They were all ages, from the very young to the very old. Of diverse condition: Sloppily dressed with abundant hair and a bohemian appearance. In blue-jean overalls, with a military air, armed with submachine guns. In normal clothes, balding, scholarly, and dignified in manner. Most were men, although there were also several women. More than a hundred had gathered. Captain Gleam presided. They settled around him. Some seated. Others on their feet, leaning against the rocks. The Great Parrots had unexpecedly appeared. Each was perched on an Amauta’s shoulder, on either side of Gleam. The latter was about to speak, when he heard the raucous music on the loudspeaker increase in volume. All were listening as the musical curtain fell, followed immediately by the familiar voice of Golden Ace.