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Chapter IX · A Drop in Infinity

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  Chapter nine of A Drop in Infinity. This is a LibriVox recording. All
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  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, chapter
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  nine. The days drew in, and the leaves of the far reaching forest
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  goldened and fluttered down, until the beach of the north shore was strewn with
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  the remnants of the summer. Finery exploration gave way to short expeditions for the
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  more utilitarian purpose of gathering nuts. Beyond this, I did little except tinker
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  round the house, set snares for deer the little forest deer Marjorie land,
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  and work upon the construction of my furnace. Finally I completed it, a
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  fine edifice of turf, eight foot high and shaped like a beehive. Within
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  I lined it with fire clay, and without I erected a platform as a
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  feeding floor. I had already mined several loads of the bright red hematite,
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  using an oaken steak, fire hardened, and my flint hammer for the purpose.
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  Marjorie, meanwhile, was less usefully employed discovering wode. She is too
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  hasty. If she had consulted me beforehand. I could have told her this
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  stuff took time to wear off, and I should have been spared the humiliation
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  of sitting down to meals with a companion whose complexion outshone the mandrill. Hildebrand
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  also emerged from the bath, the filthy sight for any person with a sense
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  of color to gaze on. Whereas he had been rabbit color, he now
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  shone a sort of putrescent purple. Marjorie, I said, as I kicked
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  the pot over the cliff, Marjorie, repent, go and do some useful
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  work instead. I can't, said Marjorie. How can I go out with
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  a blue face? I was sorry for her, and I bravely kissed her
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  purple cheek. You must stoop to toile, I s add until your color
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  scheme fades. I have an idea that the smelting of iron is ne suscitates
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  four things iron, ore, fuel, limestone, and quartz. We've got
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  to go and hunt for quarts somewhere or the iron will positively refuse to emerge.
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  Then, I think is very silly of it, said Marjorie. However,
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  if you must go, go, I won't hinder you. I want
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  you to come too, you said that my face gave you chilblains. I
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  know I did it does, but I love you, Marjorie. Supposing I
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  came home and found you eaten by a bear, I may have to go
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  quite a distance, so you'd better come with me, please, Marjorie,
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  she looked at me as an aristocratic elephant might survey at tadpole. I heard
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  some talk of chucking me over the cliff last night, she said, But
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  I suppose I must make allowances for your weak intellect. I shall amuse myself
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  with your gruvelings for a little chilblains, I think it was you said,
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  And then if I am pleased with the performance, I may show you where
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  the quartz is as usual. It's been under your for the last three months.
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  But trust you to find out anything for yourself. One good point about
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  Marjorie is that she never bears malice so long as she has permitted to have
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  her own way and bully as much as he feels disposed to at the time.
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  If you'll stop mussing me about, she remarked, presently, I'll take
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  you to the quartz place. It's only as far as the brook you've been
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  crossing about five times a week since we came here. The hubble Bubble was
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  here once, she added. An hour later, on the edge of the
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  forest, I picked up two of his revolver cartridges. Look, I've forgotten
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  his existence, I remarked. Are you happy here, Marjorie? The answer,
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  said Marjorie, is hum. I wonder who chucked all this pile of
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  pebbles on the bank. A bear? Do you think? Gracious? She
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  exclaimed, here's one as heavy as a bullet. Stand up and let me
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  throw it at you. It's jimminy, she gasped. Didn't the hubble Bubble
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  say he was a millionaire? He did? Then I found this bank.
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  Catch. I caught It's gold. I cried, and fell upon my hands
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  and knees, scrabbling furiously in the pebbly bed of the little river. Consider
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  the blind avarice of this man, mused Marjorie. Here I am in a
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  deer skin bathing costume and a straw head. I made myself shut up.
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  I roared, and my face painted blue in token of great sorrow, continued
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  Marjorie, propping her livid but rounded chin on her bare knees, and he
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  asking me if I'm happy? I threw a stone at her and continued digging.
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  I hauled out a nugget which must have weighed close to forty pounds,
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  and dropped two five pound lumps of the precious metal beside it. The richness
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  of the placer was inestimable. Marjorie said severely, if you really like to
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  do your cooking and washing up in unglazed earthen pots, I'll stop. Marjorie
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  gave a howl of joy. Oh clever, I never thought that. I'm
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  sorry I made my face blue now, but I thought it was the correct
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  thing. And anyhow, I'll be as beautiful as ever in a week,
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  won't I. She slid down into the water and joined me in my search
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  for gold. During the ensuing weeks, the wondering deer heard the unceasing thud
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  of my flint hammer on the soft metal pots of gold I made, hammering
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  it round a water worn stone and trimming the edges with sharp fragments of flint.
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  I made a big golden basin, big enough for Marjorie to bathe indoors
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  or do her primitive lungry work in when the lakes should get too cold for
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  comfort. I even contrived a frying pan and a dinner set all except in
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  knives before the pocket became exhausted. I was rather relieved by the way when
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  it did give out. Marjorie, who seemed to be intoxicated with the savage
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  life she was leading at this time, caused me a good deal of distress
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  by hinting at a nose ring Marjorie's nose. Gradually, the winter closed in
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  upon us, heralded by cold winds and bitter rain, changing it to sleet
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  and then into snow. The long dark evenings when we sat indoors over the
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  glow of a tallow lamp and made our first experiments in spinning fiber, were
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  trying both to temper and health. We were cheered a bit, however,
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  by the successful smelting of a few ingots of pig iron, poor brittle stuff.
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  It was too In the first week in December, I killed the cow
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  and took the calf up to Limestone Hollow. It was fortunate for us,
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  and another illustration of her more than providential good luck that I did this.
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  I think it was the second day after I killed the cow. I know
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  it was just after nightfall, and that I was at the time occupied in
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  hanging strips of salted beef to smoke over a well piled fire. The ground
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  was white with the first snowfall, and a chilly moon three quarters full,
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  shone through ragged tears in the dull canopy of cloud which hung over us.
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  It was a raw, depressing, mellowancoly winter's evening. For the first time,
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  my thoughts ran back, yearningly to fire grates and curtains and the bright,
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  cheerfulness of the electric light and incandescent gas of a lost civilization. Suddenly
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  it came, unexpectedly, but I knew at once what the sound pretended.
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  How I knew, I cannot say. Perhaps a million years ago my forefathers
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  heard the shuddering cry on some such night as this, and handed down the
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  memory to their children. All I know was that I heard, I understood,
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  and I quailed before it. Wolves. Wolves, wolves. The very
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  sound of the word had a nameless horror for me as a little boy.
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  And now fleeting across the meadow in the moonlight, came the deer, a
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  flitting shadow of darkness, and I caught the light crunching of its hoofs,
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  and the scurry of a hundred padded feet in the dark forest. Marjorie slipped
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  her hand in mine. What is it, Jack, She said, bravely.
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  Danger, Not exactly danger, old girl, but look, and as
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  I spoke, the whole scaliguack crew broke cover simultaneously. Never can I forget
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  the first glimpse of those lean bodies and bushy tails streaming past below, and
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  the sickening sense of impotence and utter loneliness that was the ghastly aspect of the
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  situation. These brutes, horrible enough in old, old settled countries, had
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  yet to learn the fear of man. We went back into the hut and
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  prayed, prayed hard and sincerely, and we piled our fire high. But
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  my faith was sorely shaken, nevertheless, and a sleepless night I made of
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  it. It was not until sunrise, when I looked out and saw the
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  lake sleeping peacefully below, and heard the snow trickling in little rivulets from the
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  cliffs under the rays of a warm sun, that I felt any return of
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  confidence. Even then, I was almost harsh in my insistence that Marjorie should
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  not stir from limestone hollow whilst I sneaked down to inspect the fish lines.
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  Even Marjorie's frightened face when she found me roused at last could not avail her.
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  Now, for a brief period, I was top dog in Limestone Hollow.
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  Of course, they came back. I had expected that, and they
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  were apparently loath to disappoint me. They hunted nightly down the meadow, and
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  before their depredations the frightened deer retired further and further into the forest. Even
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  the guinea pigs had vanished. Not only did they clear the valley of game,
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  but for twenty four harrowing hours, they actually besieged Limestone Hollow itself.
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  Their leader, an old gray muzzled dog Wolf, I can see now sitting
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  on his haunches at the foot of the cliff, his tongue lolling and his
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  jaws relaxed in a sort of mock jovial grin. I took a particular hatred
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  to this gentleman, and determined to teach him in his gang a much needed
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  lesson. At the first arrow, he glanced contemptuously, lulled his tongue a
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  bit further, and squinted up at me for all the world, like an
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  impuded dog. I dropped the second over the ledge. Mister Wolf jumped.
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  This time, the shaft struck quivering in the turf, not two feet from
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  where he had been sitting. Before he could make up his mind what this
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  whistling thing might be, I had notched a third, Just one more for
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  luck, I said, I think I'm getting my eye in. Wang went
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  my bowstring of plated gut, and two pairs of anxious eyes followed the flight
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  of the missile more intently than every golfer in a cup final followed the trajectory
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  of his drive. W came the answering impact from below, and instantly the
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  air was rent by a devil's chorus of yells and wines. First blood,
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  I cheered and kissed my maiden bow. He's down, Marjorie, he's down.
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  He was with a vengeance. The pointed stake had penetrated fairly between the
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  shoulder blades, and in a few convulsive leaps our erstwhile persecutor rolled over on
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  his side. Instantly, as retainers turned upon him in a body and whilst
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  they struggled for a mouthful of the departed chieftain, Marjorie and I sent arrow
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  after arrow into the boiling bob. It took five deaths to convince the survivors
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  that their own precious skins were in danger. But finally they suddenly withdrew to
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  the furnace. Around this they seated themselves, evidently finding the warmth it had
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  been in use when they first arrived on the scene. Agreeable to their mangy
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  hides, later I ventured to charge the gang from the shelter of the ravine
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  with a flaming torch in either hand. It was a risky piece of bluff,
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  but it succeeded. They ran like rabbits. The worst effect of this
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  siege was that my furnace froze on me, leaving a sow which choked the
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  tuierras and defied all my efforts to dislodge it. Finally I had to pull
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  down the whole edifice, thereby losing the labor of months, said Marjorie contemptuously,
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  as I sadly surveyed my pigs of iron. I don't believe you could
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  have done much with in any case. If I couldn't make better iron than
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  that, I go and hang myself. Well make it, then, I
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  snapped, purely destructive criticism isn't much use at any time. Give me some
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  of that red stuff. Said Marjorie, and tie up your jaw. I'm
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  cross. We had seen no wolves for a week, and her spirits were
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  beginning to rise. Like most bullies, Marjorie is a coward at heart,
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  but that is our secret. I'm sure it's all that limestone and quartz and
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  rubbish you fling in, she continued later, as she busied herself with the
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  bellows. How can you expect to make iron with a lot of nasty stones?
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  Very well, then, I said, I'm not contradicting. You go
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  on and make it for yourself, your own way. It is as I
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  have said before. No use arguing with Marjorie thereat. She made a fire
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  of charcoal and put lumps of hematite in the center thereof. She sat over
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  this for some time, combing her hair with a wooden comb and singing strange
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  incantations. I regret to say that the larger part of her chant was given
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  over to slurring remarks. In my intelligence. This went on for several hours,
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  during which she wasted a good deal of charcoal. I ventured to inquire
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  how the foundry was getting on. Blow it with the bellows, ordered Marjorie.
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  I don't think it's hot enough. I blew, and she heaped on
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  more charcoal. Again. I blew until my arms were tired, and the
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  golden spout of the bellows began to melt. I asked her how long this
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  was to continue, but she only took the bellows from me and blew in
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  her turn. She blew until I was ashamed and took them back. Thereafter,
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  I blew and grumbled until nightfall. Then we raked off the remains of
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  the fire, and I have to confess it, I discovered a large,
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  spongy mass of quite workable iron. Marjorie's bland ignorance had as usual triumph,
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  Although why I could not then have told you. I suppose it was due
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  to the purity of the ore, which is remarkably clean. I draw out
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  discreet curtain over the subsequent scene. I did not beat her as she deserved,
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  and I am a fool. End of Chapter nine