Cheers
“Dèyè mòn gen mòn”
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He paused and stood up, looking at the shadows under the trees. His voice was lower when he spoke again.
“But we'll leave part of the kill for ...”
He knelt down again and was busy with his knife. The boys crowded round him. He spoke over his shoulder to Roger.
“Sharpen a stick at both ends.”
Presently he stood up, holding the dripping sow’s head in his hands.
“Where’s that stick?”
“Here.”
“Ram one end in the earth. Oh — it’s rock. Jam it in that crack. There.”
Jack held the head and jammed the soft throat down on the pointed end of the stick which pierced through into the mouth. He stood back and the head hung there, a little blood dribbling down the stick.
Instinctively the boys drew back too; and the forest was very still. They listened, and the loudest noise was the buzzing of the flies over the spilled guts.
Ch. 8: Gift for the Darkness
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