"Doesn't seem right, somehow," Stoyan said. "In the first place, God help us, the thing'll die on us and I'll have to write a report for Hausbotcher."
"We've had them boiled," Acey announced suddenly. "I didn't like the taste, but the boys said it was all right. Bit like rabbit, I can't touch rabbit, to me a cat and a rabbit's just the same; can't bear the stuff..."
"I've noticed one thing," said Quentin. "The number of pups is always a simple number: thirteen, forty-three, forty-seven..."
"Nonsense," objected Stoyan. "I've come across groups of six or twelve."
"That's in the forest," said Quentin, "after that groups scatter in different directions. The cesspit always produces a simple number, you can check the log, I've put all my conclusions down."
"Me and the boys caught one of the local girls once, what a laugh that was!"
"Well all right, write an article then," said Stoyan.
"1 already have," said Quentin. "That'll make fifteen..."
"I've done seventeen," said Stoyan. "And one at the printers. Who's your co-author?"
"I don't know yet," said Quentin. "Kirn recommends the manager, he says transport's the coming thing now, but Rita advises the warden."
"Not him," said Stoyan.
"Why?" asked Quentin.
"Don't choose the warden," Stoyan repeated. "I'm not saying anything to you - just keep it in mind."
"The warden used to dilute the yogurt with brake fluid," said Acey. "That was when he was the manager of the barbershop. So me and the boys slipped a handful of bedbugs into his room."
"They say they're preparing a directive," said Stoyan. "Whoever's got less than fifteen articles to their name have to undergo treatment."
"Oh Lord," said Quentin, "that's a bad business. I
know what special treatment means, after one of them your hair stops growing and you have bad breath for a year..."
Home, thought Pepper. Get home as soon as you can. Now there really is nothing for me here. Just then he saw that the pup formation had broken up. Pepper counted: thirty-two pups went straight ahead, while a column of eleven had turned off left and down, where a lake became suddenly visible between the trees - dark motionless water, quite near the landrover. Pepper glimpsed a low misty sky and the vague outline of the Directorate on the horizon. The eleven pups were heading confidently toward the water. Stoyan shut the engine off and everybody climbed out to watch the pups oozing over a twisted bough at the water's edge and plop heavily one after another into the lake. Oily circles rocked along the dark water.
"They're going down," said Quentin in amazement. "They're drowning."
Stoyan got his map and spread it out over the bonnet.
"Right enough," he said. "This lake isn't marked. There's a village marked but no lake... Here it is written: 'Vill. Aborig. Seventeen point one one.' "
"That's always the way," said Acey. "Who uses a map in this forest? In the first place all the maps are inaccurate and secondly, you don't need them here. Say there's a road here today, tomorrow they'll have barbed wire up and a watchtower. Or you'll find a dump all of a sudden."
"I don't sort of feel like going on farther," said Stoyan, stretching himself. "Maybe we'll call it a day?"
"Surely," said Quentin. "Pepper's still got his pay to collect. Back to the van."
"A pair of binoculars would be handy," said Acey suddenly, cupping his eyes and avidly staring into the lake. "I reckon there's a woman in there bathing."
Quentin halted.
"Where?"
"She's got nothing on," said Acey. "True as I'm standing here. Not a stitch."
Quentin suddenly went pale and made a headlong rush for the van.
"Where is it you see her?" asked Stoyan.
"Over there at the far bank..."
"There's nothing there," croaked Quentin. He was standing on the running-board and sweeping the far bank with his binoculars. His hands shook. "Damned bigmouth... Asking for another one... No, not a thing!" he repeated passing Stoyan the glasses.
"What d'you mean, nothing?" said Acey. "I'm no four-eyes, I've got an eye like a water-level..."
"Wait a minute, wait, don't grab them," said Stoyan. "There's manners, grabbing them out of my hand..."
"There's nothing there," muttered Quentin. "He's pulling your leg. There's plenty of travelers' tales..."
"I know what it is," said Acey. "It's a mermaid. I'm telling you."
Pepper roused himself.
"Give me the binoculars," he said quickly.
"Nothing to see," said Stoyan, holding out the glasses.
"Fine guy to believe, I must say," muttered Quentin, now calming down.
"Honestly, there was," said Acey. "She must have dived. She'll be up in a minute..."
Pepper focused the glasses. He didn't expect to see anything: that would have been too simple. And nothing was what he saw. The unruffled lake, a distant bank overgrown with forest and the silhouette of a rock above the forest's jagged skyline.
"What was she like?" he asked.
Acey began a detailed description of her, with much use of the hands. His narrative was succulent and full of fervor, but it wasn't at all what Pepper wanted.
