“So they are,” said Bevis, quite convinced, and likewise forgetting his temper. “Of course they are, and that’s why the path is so narrow. But I believe it’s not a house, I mean not a house to live in. It’s a place to worship at, where they have a fetich.”
“I think it’s a house,” said Mark.
“Then where’s the fireplace?” asked Bevis decidedly.
“No more there is a fireplace,” said Mark thoughtfully. “It’s a fetich-place.”
Bevis went on again, leaving the framework behind. Across those bars the barley was thrown in autumn for the pheasants, which feed by darting up and dragging down a single ear at a time; thus by keeping the barley off the ground there is less waste. They knew this very well.
“Bevis,” said Mark presently.
“Yes.”
“Let’s leave this path.”
“Why?”
“Most likely we shall meet some savages—or perhaps a herd of wild beasts, they rush along these paths in the jungle and crush over everything—perhaps elephants.”