He scowled and crawled back into his sleeping bag.
Karsten electing to walk ahead to prevent me from putting a wrong foot
That was very unlike Karsten. He was quite considerate to others feelings and while trekking, would always elect to stay ahead in order to prevent me from putting a wrong foot. The past few days, however, he trailed behind me and seemed to be lost in thought as if some urgent matter had kept him preoccupied. I had even remarked to him about it, but he hadn't volunteered any information.
"I'm just feeling lonesome!" he had said.
When he awoke, he sulked for a while and I had to humour him a bit. Evenings found us in each other's uneasy presence. That was what had happened in the past days of bad weather. Both of us had revealed most of our secrets and it was as if we had suddenly become poor: literally bankrupt stark naked in each other's fault finding gaze. He gradually started reacting adversely to disagreements in the various discussions that we resumed and any contradiction of his ideas on my part seemed to enrage him. As time progressed he became positively demanding and was not gratified by my silent nods or perfunctory approval. He demanded a whacking support.
"Listen, Karsten!" I told him finally, "I'd rather not have any discussions."
That precipitated a disaster. He withdrew into a shell and resisted all attempts to draw him out. The next day out of boredom, as I presumed, he fished out the pistol and busied himself polishing it. He had started with the butt and had given it a glittering shine. Later he polished the barrel and the magazine and then the whole pistol. The roll call over the radio in the evening, to me assumed a metaphysical importance for it gave me an opportunity to listen to other voices and affirm, so to speak, that the world I had left behind in some remote past still existed and that I would one day get back to it.
After work the next evening, he again set down to polish the pistol. It was unnecessary: the pistol was as clean as it could ever be. As he went on with the polishing, his face lit up with a strange sense of satisfaction. He viewed the pistol from various angles successively and smiled to himself. He pointed it towards himself, brought it close to one eye and peeped into the menacing darkness of the barrel.
He again busied himself with the pistol for the third day, cocking the hammer of the empty pistol and setting it off. A strange sense of insecurity began creeping over me. At first I thought of telling him that his preoccupation with the pistol could be dangerous, but our relationship over the past few days was not too good. I also realised that if I showed him I was worried he might pursue what he was doing with greater vigour. I considered informing the expedition leader over the radio, but it was too premature. There was nothing definite that indicated danger. Perhaps it was only my imagination. I decided that the wisest thing to do was never to reveal my fears. The second day we would be shifting camp and perhaps I could send word through the pilot.
The next morning, while I was preparing breakfast in the adjacent tent, I overheard ever so faintly the box of bullets being opened. I decided to investigate, but not too obvi¬ously. I called Karsten over for breakfast and when he was fully into it, I found an excuse to go back there. To my horror I found a small tin of bullets opened with two of them removed. I left for the field with a strange feeling in my gut. As always, he trailed behind me by about four or five paces. Each step that day was an effort and within a short time I was fatigued. All through there was a funny feeling just below the nape of my neck. Fortunately the traverse ended without harm. While I rested on the mattress, Karsten told me that he would go out for a walk and would return shortly.
Ten minutes later, I heard the report of a gun. God! Had he shot himself ? I rushed out of the tent and stood wondering in which direction he had gone. There was another blast in a short time some distance away. I then realised that he was firing without purpose. Heaving a sigh of relief, I retreated into the tent and threw myself down on the mattress. Soon I heard his footsteps and he came into the tent and relaxed.
(To be continued ....)
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