But if it is difficult to gain the men's respect, it is easy to lose it. And the worst part is, you don't even know what it was you did. Was it trying to mash nine burning marshmallows into your mouth at once? Was it telling the men that you laugh at danger, but then not seeing any danger so you laugh at mountains and trees and horse manure? And Curtis's hat? Was it asking them about the hideous howls during the night that sounded like the lost souls of Hades shrieking in agony and torment, and the men not knowing what you're talking about, then having one of the men say, "Maybe it was a tree frog"?
You can never know for sure. But one thing is certain: You can't win back their respect with cheap parlor tricks or, say, a magic trick. Even if you take hours to learn the trick, and you gather the men around the campfire to perform it, and you use a little magic table that you made yourself, and even if the trick, you think, is performed pretty well, this is not going to rekindle the men's respect. You can tell from the looks they give one another, and the lack of applause. You may get a little respect if you get mad and throw the table and the trick parts into the fire, but that's about it. And you may get some respect from the dove for letting him go. But still you are wondering, What's wrong with these men? Come on, that was a good trick.
The respect of the men can be a cruel mistress and a harlot. But at other times it can be a nice mistress and a happy slut. You can't think about it too much. But if you ignore it, it can sneak up and coldcock you, like an angry prostitute.
You know it won't be easy, but one day you will again have the respect of the men. You don't know when or how. And you can't help thinking that maybe if you could explain to the men just how difficult the magic trick was, it would go a long way toward getting the whole respect thing going again.