tems that pertained
to his comfort, such as food, drink, bedpan and pillow--he revelled in
the luxury of our down-filled pillows. But at first he evinced little
interest in communication.
Then one morning we arose to find him standing and clinging weakly to
the door jamb, searching the perimeter of the clearing with frantic
eyes.
We scolded him, but he ignored us. He spotted a fellow native examining
one of the unfinished huts, which were going up at the rate of one a
day. He called out in a loud, clear voice, and the little golden
creature came running over to investigate.
It was a lovely little female, and I told Sue, "We have a reunion on our
hands. Must be his mate."
But Joe was quite indifferent to her charms. She seemed tolerably happy
to see him, touched his bandages with long, gentle fingers, then hurried
off to the forest as if in response to his commands. Joe made no effort
to follow. He seemed still to realize that he was in good hands and was
profiting by the care he was receiving.
However, he chafed for the ten minutes or so before her return. We
waited with high curiosity. I bet Sue that we were about to learn what
"tala" was. When the female approached again we were mystified. "Why
it's just a mango," Sue said. Indeed, the yellow-skinned, kidney-shaped
fruit which the little native bore carefully in both hands appeared to
be one of the over-sized specimens we had named after its smaller Earth
counterpart.
Joe reached greedily for the fruit, poked a hole in the rind with a
pointed forefinger and drank deeply. Watching from the door of our
bedroom, we could smell a delightful, tangy scent that was only vaguely
typical of the Sirian mangoes we had eaten.
To our surprise, as Joe drank, the skin collapsed like a plastic bag.
"It must be a different species, or else it's much riper than any we've
gathered," Sue said.
When Joe paused to breathe, the female took the fruit from him and
sucked at it enthusiastically. They sank down on Joe's bed and took
turns drinking the juice until the quart-sized skin was crumpled and
empty.
I fear I interrupted an incipient romance in order to retrieve the
discarded skin. The female wrinkled her nose and made for the door. I
watched her roll unsteadily across the clearing with eccentric little
lurches. The bland smile on Joe's handsome face deepened my suspicion. I
pointed to the skin and asked, "Tala?"
He nodded, patted his stomach and repeated, "Tala!"
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