XXXI
WHO’LL TAKE THE BABY?
HAROLD chopped wood, hauled water, dug potatoes. The following day a warrior succumbed. Harold sadly helped them lower him into the grave, then visited the sick, who had doubled in number. If this kept up, there would be nobody well enough to make the manioc into bread. What would they eat? Night fell, and he was still putting wood on the fires, carrying water to those who begged for a drink. Finally he fell into his hammock too exhausted to undress. But the death cry brought him to his feet. Another family had lost a son. Tomorrow - another grave digging! But tomorrow there was not only one grave to dig. In the afternoon a mother died leaving a small baby. No one paid attention to the crying infant, naked and squirming on the pallet beside the corpse. Harold wearily called some to help dig as the women painted the body for burial.
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