Johnny remembered how Baba had preened himself when Rick had spoken that way, and he smiled.
"Hey, Baba," Johnny said, "how soon do you think we could take a trip all around the groves? We could get Skorkin to carry us, and go visit everybody."
"You will have to come stay with my people," Baba said. Only a few days before Baba had discovered a host of aunts, uncles and cousins in one of the outlying groves. Most important of all he had found his father. "I've lived with you for years and years. Now it should be your turn."
"Oh, good," said Johnny. "We'll do it, soon as they'll let us go."
"Look, Johnny," Baba pointed. "Look at the trader!"
Below, the fat bald-headed little man, a pack on his back, was heading into the jungle. He waddled as he walked, but he moved straight along.
"Where's he going?" Baba asked.
"Dad says he's going to start a marshberry farm—if the marva will let him. But, gosh, it'll be a long time before anyone will help him."
"He can always live on meat fruit and stuff," Baba said. "Nobody likes him, but they won't bother him if he leaves them alone."
What had happened to the trader and to the outlaws was the strangest thing of all. The marva had not wanted them punished. They said they wanted to make friends, not enemies.