The Scorpion God: Three Short Novels by William Golding Page A

of the ravine, accepted the falling clods, beat together down the centre and poured on, the colour of wet earth streaked with yellow foam. Furious Lion was swept along arseupward and only the wriggling of his hams told how he struggled to get upright. The Elder of Elders was clutching into the mud of the cliff and coughing up dark water. A fall of earth knocked him down again. The water sank to no more than knee height. Beautiful Bird stood up and staggered back as a green snake wriggled past him. Dragonfly sat up, hiccuping and howling. The Elder of Elders appeared again farther down the ravine. Again he was expressionless, but this time because his face could not be seen for mud. Then the flood lay still, circling here and there but only ankle deep. There was the sound of Leopard Men splashing and wading and the plop! plop! of falling clods.
    A third of the way up the cliff, Chimp squatted high and dry. His mouth was wide open as he looked down from one hunter to the other. They were moving towards each other, wordlessly. Chimp burst into a cackle of laughter. He beat his hands on his knees so that he nearly fell. He leaned his head back and the tears ran down his face. He screamed his laughter and when the breath was out of him he hooted like a woman in labour. The hunters looked up at him evilly through mud and smeared hair. He got some breath and sang.
    “We are the Fish Men! Rah! Rah! Rah!”
    Beautiful Bird tore one bedraggled feather from his head and held it out.
    “How can Beautiful Bird fly now?”
    He burst into tears and they made light brown streaks down his face. Stooping Eagle snatched up a handful of mud and hurled it. At once, they were throwing and shouting. A clod with a stone in it hit Chimp on the shoulder. He stopped laughing and grabbed at the cliff again. He sang out at the top of his voice.
    “Charging Elephant Who Fell On His Face Before An Antelope would leopard leap but the root is twisted, the bough bent——”
    “You—Chimp!”
    Stooping Eagle was fumbling at his waist. He got the bolas free and began to swing it round his head, whirr, whirr. Furious Lion scrabbled at the cliff, got himself up a little way then slid down again in a shower of clods. The stones of the bolas came whirling up the cliff face and the wave of their passing was like a shock on Chimp’s skin. He scrambled, fast and indignant to the top of the cliff and could see the hunt climbing up under his arm. He ran, angrily and clumsily away through the grass and did not stop until he was out of spear cast. He turned and looked back but the hunters were climbing over the lip of the cliff, so he ran on, then stopped and turned again. They were all there, grouped together. They sang out at him and each other, they gesticulated. He saw Firefly shake his fist. Beautiful Bird had his face in his hands, while Stooping Eagle put an arm round his shoulder. Chimp spread his arms wide, his head on one side, trying to communicate at that distance a complex of feeling for which words were useless.
    Furious Lion made throwing gestures with his spear.
    “Go away!”
    Rutting Rhino put his hands to his face and sang through them.
    “We don’t like you any more!”
    Beautiful Bird lifted his face from his hands and sang as if his heart was breaking.
    “Beautiful Bird wanted to fly!”
    Stooping Eagle kissed him. A hunter—Chimp could not see who it was—cupped his hands round his face.
    “Join the other Chimps!”
    There was a howl of laughter. It did not sound kind. Chimp snarled at the distant group and made gestures with his spear, then brought it down again. They were turning away, they were moving along the edge of the ravine, deeper into hunting country. Their backs were to him. He moved after them, but as if they knew what he was doing, they turned a blur of faces towards him and a high-pitched voice stopped him in his tracks.
    ‘‘Fight the Boss Chimp!”
    He heard laughter again; and even at the distance, he could see a