And when we reached the little piazza and I turned to
look back, there were the men sitting quietly in the canoes. The
Eskimo had drawn canoes, men and outfit across the mud to where a
little stream slipped down over a gravelly bed, which offered
firmer footing, and were now coming in single file towards the post
each with a bag over his shoulder.
Why were the men sitting there? Why did they not come too?
Suddenly I realised that with our arrival at the post our positions
were reversed. They were my charges now. They had completed their
task and what a great thing they had done for me. They had brought
me safely, triumphantly on my long journey, and not a hair of my
head had been harmed. They had done it too with an innate courtesy
and gentleness that was beautiful, and I had left them without a
word. With a dull feeling of helplessness and limitation I thought
of how differently another would have done. No matter how I tried,
I could never be so generous and self-forgetful as he. In the hour
of disappointment and loneliness, even in the hour of death, he had
taken thought so generously for his companions. I, in the hour of
my triumph, had forgotten mine.
Pages:
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248