ught back a live little animal that looked like a
cross between a three-toed sloth and a teddy bear, except that he had a
long, woofly snout like an ant-eater. He seemed to be hibernating in the
crotch of a small tree, and when I shook him down he cuddled up and
clung to my neck so lovingly that I decided he'd make a good pet for
Sue.

The little cub kept nipping affectionately at my neck on the hike back,
and he clung so close he was a nuisance, but Sue was delighted. We had
to improvise a cage at night to keep him from mauling us and keeping us
awake.

Sue named him, "Toots", and we were the envy of all the camp. When Joe
and his people returned three weeks later, and we discovered the truth
about Toots, the others were happy they hadn't acquired a similar pet.

* * * * *

It was late spring, and the mango trees were rapidly refilling their
high branches with the tala-fruit. We now had a roofed central kitchen
where the women prepared our meals. We ate at long tables in the open.

Shortly after the noon meal one day, Joe and his people returned. He
caught up to Sue and me as we were strolling to our hut for our daily
fifteen-minute siesta. He appeared tired from the journey but quite glad
to see us. I felt the pangs of conscience as I added my hypocritical
welcome to Sue's warm greeting.

In his old room we sat on the rough furniture I had fashioned, and Joe
eyed Sue's fruitful contours. "A baby soon, eh? We have many babies
among us."

"You--have?" I said.

"Many were born on the return trip. They slowed up the females with
their sucking. For eight days they are a burden on the mother."

Sue exclaimed, "Eight days? Then what happens?"

The subject did not greatly interest Joe. "Then they find their own
food--if the _koodi_ does not find them first."

"What in the world is a _koodi_?" Sue asked with a shiver.

Joe was silent for a minute. He wrinkled his broad brow and looked at
me. "Samrogers, you asked me many questions about how we die. I did not
understand this death for a long time. Now I know. It is when the
_koodi_ comes. He comes to the very young and to the old. The babies are
too small to hold him off. The old drink much tala, then the _koodi_
comes to them. This is my third year, and my thirst for tala is great.
The _koodi_ will come."

His words painted a clear picture of a superstitious concept of death,
personifying it even as humans refer to the "grim reape