Trouble

early morning.
The sun has not yet risen from the top of the mountain, and the morning dew is still hanging on the tips of leaves and branches.
Roger lay on the roof, chewing a straw. Amy lay beside him, staring at him with her big, bright eyes.
There were bursts of shouting in the village, and seven or eight people carrying baskets and cans, led by the old village chief, filed up the mountain.
"Amy."Roger called lazily.
"Um?"
"What are the village chief and his men doing...