Page:The further side of silence (IA furthersideofsil00clifiala).pdf/299

 not always expressed in the most decorous language, the rude mimicry of some personal eccentricity, a play upon words, or a story with almost too much point in it--such are Ûmat's stock in trade, and the dexterous use of them has caused him to be well beloved by his fellows.

But, on occasion, he can be serious enough. As my raft whirls down a rapid, a clumsy punt sends it reeling to what looks like certain destruction. Umat's ugly old nut of a face sets hard. His teeth are clenched, his lips compressed tightly. His bare feet grapple the slippery bamboos with clinging grip, and his twenty-foot punting pole describes a circle above his head. Its point alights with marvellous rapidity and unerring aim upon the only projecting ridge of rock within immediate reach, and all Umat's weight is put into the thrust, while his imprisoned breath breaks loose in an excited howl. The raft cants violently, wallowing knee deep, but the danger of instant demolition is averted, and we tear through the fifty yards of roaring, rock-beset water, which divides us from the foot of the rapid, without further mishap. Then Ûmat's face relaxes, his queer laugh resounds, and he chaffs the man whose clumsiness has nearly been our undoing with unmerciful dis- regard for his feelings or for the more approved pro- prieties.

His promptness to grasp the nature of the emer- gency, and the quick, decisive action with which he meets it and averts catastrophe, have little to do with Umat himself. He owes them to his forebears the