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Chapter XXVII · A Drop in Infinity

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  Chapter twenty seven of A Drop in Infinity. This is a LibriVox recording.
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  All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer,
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  please visit LibriVox dot org. A Drop in Infinity by Gerald Grogan,
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  chapter twenty seven. As might be expected, my reception in Limestone Hollow was
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  the reverse and enthusiastic. What I explained where I had been, and what
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  I had done. Marjorie called me a barbarian, and she dwelt heavily on
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  the undeniable fact that I had now made it morally certain Quelch would attempt to
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  even up the score by inflicting some damage on us. Peter reproved me on
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  different grounds, but with equal severity. He said it was a rotten piece
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  of mismanagement by your lord showed him in the stomach. Adela, indeed,
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  was the only person who seemed disposed to take my part anyhow the deed was
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  done. I can only plead that the memory of Adela's wounds and iron and
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  crouching in fear in the forest upset my equilibrium at the moment. Although I
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  had been silly enough to stoop to revenge, wherein no real satisfaction outside the
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  imagination of fools. Buckets full of repentant tears would not suffice to deaden the
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  swing of the devil's pendulum. The play was again up to Quelch. His
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  first move was to quit the neighborhood. Altogether, we hunted for traces of
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  him for over a month without success. During all this period we were under
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  the irksome necessity of keeping watch at night, which cut into our rest and
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  hindered our work. I was divided between violent rage at my own stupidity and
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  a dumb irritation that three men could not exist on the same planet without waging
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  war. We were always on tante hooks as to the safety of our sheep,
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  are carefully cultivated and unred placeable fruit trees, and the defenses of limestone
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  Hollow damaged to any one of which things would have hit us hard. Still,
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  time slipped by, and the enemy made no move. I began to
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  hope he had really left us for good, or had perhaps been waylaid by
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  a hungry bear. Many a dawning I looked across the misty landscape for traces
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  of smoke, or strained my eyes in the gloom for the glint of a
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  camp fire in the forest, but without success. If he still haunted our
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  settlement, he had learned to hide his abode. Being autumn, the forest
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  would be well stocked with wild fruits, and in the end I came to
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  the conclusion that the man was too scared to attack. I finally decided to
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  keep on mounting guard until the first hard frost set in. If that did
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  not drive him in, why then we could reckon him dead, poor devil.
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  The rather hot and dry summer of Marjory Land came to an abrupt end
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  on September twenty eighth, and from then on until October three we had chilly
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  breezes from the north with occasional rain. The crab apples and the nuts were
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  still on the trees, however, so we divided the lengthening nights into four
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  hour watches and continued our steady patrolling of the enclosure. In December, the
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  frost set in about a month too soon, and on the heels of a
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  heavy snow storm. By Christmas Day, we had decided that attack was out
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  of the question. Quilch was dead or had fled southwards to avoid the cold.
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  I returned to Limestone Hollow and Peter had the run of the lower house.
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  Adela, soon to be the mother of a more suitable Quelch than Michael.
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  Of that Ilk, had moved up with us, and I gave over
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  the house to the women and the children. I had a pet wolf called
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  Lupus. His name was Lupus, for he was a wolf, and Lupus
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  and I went to live together in the kitchen. I thought that perhaps this
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  would make Loopa's tamer than ever. It was an extraordinary winter all round.
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  On New Year's Day, the frost broke, and Jenry was as mild as
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  butter. By February two, we had forgotten Quelch, for we were all
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  far more interested in Adela's little boy, whose birthday fell on the last mentioned
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  date. I remember that Peter and I had a violent quarrel as to who
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  should stand godfather. Peter might have stood a better chance had not Adela taken
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  rather an antipathy to him. At the time, for some unknown reason,
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  perhaps it was the shadow of coming events, Peter acquired what was vulgarly known
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  as a thick ear in the old world. In the course of the next
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  summer. He wanted to marry Adela, who was at least ten years his
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  senior, and I fancy she gave him the adornment mentioned to encourage him to
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  adopt gentler methods. Peter never married Adela Pshaw. That was next summer.
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  I am supposed to be dealing with events of February nine. On the night
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  of the tenth of that month, I had turned in at nine o'clock,
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  having set up an hour later than usual kneading buckskin. At midnight, I
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  was awakened by a della's baby howling, and thereafter I found the desire for
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  sleep had left me. I rolled over on my other side and noticed that
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  the moon was still shining. The white beams were penciling the earth floor through
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  the chinks in the rough wickerwork door of the kitchen. I drew the pile
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  of dressed skins, which served me as blankets, more tightly round my shoulders,
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  for there was more than a touch of frost in the air. And
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  I lay wondering how I should feel, or I suddenly transported back to bedsteads
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  and spring mattresses deucedly uncomfortable. I imagine a chip of burnt wood fell with
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  a little click among the embers, and a cricket. What mysterious affinity drew
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  the crickets to our firesides before all the other animals. Marjorie land chirruped sleepily.
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  I expect it was a Ferdinand the chap who had lost his off hind
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  skipper in the wars. The howls of Henry ceased abruptly, and now I
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  could hear the voices of Marjorie and Adela in low pitched consultation. Ferdinand,
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  I said, what the deuce is that noise? Chir deep, chit deep,
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  cried Ferdinand, nothing at all, just the women. Ain't it cold?
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  Chir deep, chir deep, I mean the busing noise. And there
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  it goes again, chirt deep, chir deep, that's me fiddlestick ends,
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  I retorted, No cricket could make us sound like that. It is quite
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  possibly a torpid bee. Chittyep, chirt deep, bisus thud. I sat
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  up so suddenly that I almost tumbled slumbering loopus into the fire and frightened Ferdinand
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  into precipitate retreat. That I said was an arrow landing, and my mind
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  was hazy with vague surmises. Whisper whisper, crack a rose a new sound.
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  But the night is so full of subdued noises that one is easily deceived.
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  I remained leaning on one arm, loathe to get out of the cold,
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  though distinctly apprehensive, until a whiff of smoke assailed my nostrils. Then
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  I felt aggrieved, for had I not been unlawfully disturbed by the buzz of
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  a hibernating insect and the lighting of a fire to heap water for Henry Quilch.
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  I tumbled back indignantly amongst the skins, and then Marjorie screamed. Marjorie
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  is not given to screaming, but when she does let go, she makes
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  a good job of it, and it means that my attendance is instantly and
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  urgently required. I came out of the kitchen so rapidly that I brought the
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  door along with me, And as I came, a fiery spear trailed across
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  the moon and bit into the turf at my feet. Simultaneously, I saw
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  the fire, which I had heard kindle and had smelt. I could not
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  miss seeing it because it covered about a third of our thatched roof and was
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  spreading rapidly. Marjorie was beating on the inside of the door, and I
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  noticed with a shock that it had been lashed with raw hide strips. I
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  swept my machette through the knots and out tumbled Marjorie with a child under each
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  arm. Simultaneously, a thirty pound rock came humming down upon us and kicked
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  the cross beam from a corner post. I heard Omonsen shout below, and
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  then there was a pause. I looked over my shoulder and my eye fell
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  upon the solid walls of the uncompleted new house. The lower story of rock
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  and mortar was finished, and the joists to support the floor of the upper
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  solid ten inch sticks, rough squared with an adze were all in place.
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  I had not yet started nailing down the floorboards, but they were all stacked
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  in a corner, ready resting on the joists. This made an excellent protection
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  from missiles from above, so without more ado, I hustled everybody in under
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  cover and shot back to save what I could from the burning house. I
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  heard the sonorous hey I com of Peter in the ravine, drowned in the
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  clatter and thunder of a cascade of boulders, and I groaned. Marjorie pushed
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  past me and dived into the smoke Fortunately, the inner walls were in bad
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  repair. What I could not cut I pushed down and out between the smoking
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  door posts steamed a steady current of movable property. I caught a glimpse of
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  Marjorie, strangely like a busy little terrier, digging in a rabbit hole,
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  and then over I went in a choking swirl of wood smoke. I remember
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  thinking that I was done for, and reaching for her ankle to drag her
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  back to safety, before I was jerked into my senses by a torrent of
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  icy water. Get back, shouted Omondsen, one side of his face pouring
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  with blood. Get your bread, you tvaublon get by, he choked as
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  I ran back from the spring with a dripping leather bucket he had thrust upon
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  me by he clever feller. I pretty near cash By stones, but I
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  lie flat by my belly. Jump off for me, you, I say,
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  and they yump. He slashed in the water where the fire glowed reddest
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  Marvata. He broke off and dived in after the spinning wheel. Al bad
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  van ledelvan. They jump off o me, he repeated, as I came
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  back. I think I loose starboat here by him ho ho, most things
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  are a joke to Peter, just to lend us a hand with the good
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  work. Quelch pushed a couple more bolders over the edge. One of them
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  slew all the guinea pigs. No good, Peter, I cried the spring's
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  dry back into the new house. Peter clapped Marjorie's gold tob over his head
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  and ran for it. Amidst a parting shower of spears. Our retreat was
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  well covered. Three arrows streaked upwards from the doorway as we crossed. I
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  could not avoid thinking of Marjorie's homily on barbarism as I joined her, and
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  it made me laugh whilst I strung my own bow. But after all,
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  she was only defending her home. I did not get time to aid her
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  in the work because Quelch took the hint and bolted. We pursued as far
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  as the head of the ravine, but he was out of sight when we
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  got there. End of Chapter twenty seven, read by Tim Row in London,
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  twenty twenty three.