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Chapter XXVIII · A Drop in Infinity

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  Section twenty eight 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 eight. Beyond the fright to the children and the cut across a
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  Munsen's face, the damage inflicted by the Battle of Limestone Hollow was not so
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  serious as I had feared. Marjorie groaned when she discovered that our one and
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  only Bible had perished in the flames. But I chose to see something prophetic
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  in this. Indeed, it appears to me nowadays as if we were to
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  lose everything linking us to the Old world except tradition. Besides the loss of
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  the Bible, a third part of how to do everything was reduced to ashes,
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  and the original axe was melted into a shapeless lump. We also lost
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  a loom, the first I had made and the worst constructed of the two.
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  We possessed, fortunately, a table and a few other odds and ends.
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  What astonished me more than anything else was the deliberation and skill with which
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  the attack had been planned and carried out. It appeared that Michael had piled
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  about half a ton of rocks at the head of the ravine, in such
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  a manner that by kicking out a crowbar he could send the lot flying.
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  All of these had passed over on Munsen whilst he was climbing to our aid.
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  In addition to this primitive battery, Quelch had also torn down part of
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  the upper stockade so as to allow him to move freely between the cliff top
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  over the hollow and the head of the ravine, and had lined the edge
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  above us with more boulders, most of which he had carried some distance.
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  He had been bringing up his ammunition for a week or two beforehand, and
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  had concealed it in the nearest patch of bramble, as we discovered later,
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  having completed all these preparations, he had crept down below and had tied up
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  the door of the house so as to imprison those within. He cannot have
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  known that I was sleeping in the kitchen. The rest of his acts I
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  have related. Anyhow, we had learned a lesson, and now knew for
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  certain that Michael Quelch, our enemy, was no more the Quelch I had
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  picked up under the tree than Adela Watkins. Our friend was the Adela who
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  went to shore with Quelch in Constantinople. This new edition of Adela, strange
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  to say, now, became quite unnatural in her hatred toward her outlaw husband.
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  I had always imagined that no normal woman went back on her man,
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  however unsavory his record. But it appears I was mistaken. I used to
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  like him in a fashion, said Adela. It was on account of our
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  journey together, I suppose, But he got too thick for me, even
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  even before he tried to do for me. Damn him, Adela, cried.
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  Marjorie, who is very particular about other people's language. Adela groveled in
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  spirit. It was his trying to kill the babies, Miss Marjorie, his
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  own child too. He must have known. Can't anything be done. Marjorie's
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  lips quivered, as it does when she is perplexed, Jack, she said,
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  with that little whining intonation, which means she has reached a dead end
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  and wants help. I looked at her, and I looked at Peter.
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  Peter nodded gravely. We all three understood, without the necessity for superfluous talk.
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  But it looked a hearted job somehow with only three men in the world,
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  vedraw Lot suggested Peter. Or if you Tanky fight like a man,
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  then I catch him, then I go. Anyway, if you Tanky run
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  or vant me give court, then vidraw Lot, you can't go, Peter,
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  I said, sadly, you're not expert enough as a tracker for the
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  job. It'll have to be me. They saw the force of this,
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  and it was accordingly agreed that I must hunt down and kill Quelch. Marjorie
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  made rather a fuss about it, but had to give in. You needn't
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  go for a month yet, she remarked. Later, he'll be on his
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  guard at present, but if we wait, he'll think we're afraid to follow
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  him. Oh doesn't it sound devilish? Why aren't there policemen and law courts
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  and things there are? I said. The man has been condemned by a
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  jury of his fellow countrymen, and his sentence is by act of parliament.
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  Besides, this is war. If you want to look at it that way,
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  the odds, if anything, are in favor of Quelch, since he
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  is on the defensive. Don't go, cried Marjorie. I forbid you to
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  go. I would remind you that the monarchy is constitutional. It's not interrupted,
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  Marjorie, and I've got to go. We can't alter our decision in
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  this offhand manner. I wish, said Marjorie. Nobody had ever come here
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  except ourselves. It was fun then, but now it's all spoiled. It's
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  not spoiled, you ass don't. We still hunt together and work together and
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  play together. Good heavens, does the presence of a Munsen and a Dla
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  make you feel crowded? Ask yourself? Grumbled Marjorie. You know it's not
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  that. I mean, I Oh damn, what's the use of worrying?
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  Say something soft now? And she put her insolent chin on my shoulder.
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  I can't do things in this cold blooded manner, Marjorie, I said,
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  it's not seemly. You're like the Chicago editor who wanted his staff of poets
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  to punch the time clock and write poetry for eight hours a day. Then
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  why have you got your arm? Marjorie broke off in mid sentence and closed
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  her eyes in complacent expectancy course of habit. I explained, the rest of
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  my part of this conversation was drivel, so I will not repeat it.
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  The spectacle of old John Thorpe making a fool of himself in the days of
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  his early manhood is not a fit spectacle for a godless generation. On a
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  blustery day in March, I undert took the grim duty set on me.
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  I took the war path as I imagined the caveman did, and the clothes
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  I stood in and my weapons. I did not carry food, for I
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  meant to live entirely on what I could get, and my only extra covering
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  was a light robe of guinea pig skins, which just served to keep me
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  from freezing at night. I was not alone, however, I made this
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  trip the occasion of a notable experiment. Or I took Lupus. It was
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  pretty long odds. I thought he would bolt off and leave me as soon
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  as we were past upper Lake, but one has to take chances sometimes,
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  and he was wondrous, friendly and docile for a wolf. Rusty Brown lay
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  the dank remains of the bracken along the whispering brook as savage man and savage
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  wolf dog trotted up the forest path. After a few miles, the stream
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  began to sing to itself, and I caught myself whistling in the air it
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  ran defer, defer to the Lord High executioner. I changed that air for
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  another one. Quickly we climbed the scarp above Deerford, and presently the forest
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  fell back far rocks began to show, and one could see the rolling downs
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  like a misty green sea below. Trot became a walk most of the time,
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  until a stag stood knee deep in heather and stamped its foot at me.
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  I prepared to receive cavalry, but much to my surprise, the stag
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  ran away over the saddle back beyond toward Upper Lake. That looked as if
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  it had personal experience of mankind, and I decided it would be more expedient
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  to approach Upper Lake from the uphill side by crossing the saddle, then go
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  round by the brook path. I didn't think Quelch would be in the hut
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  somehow, but Lupus had rushed off after the stag. There goeth Loupis,
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  I said, sadly, and came to the head of the divide alone.
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  I took one glance at the stone hut, snug and intact in its encircling
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  wall, even the turf roof intact, and then dropped. There was smoke
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  coming from the chimney of all the cheek, I gasped, well, mister
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  Quelch, right or wrong, here goes to carry out orders. I propped
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  myself cautiously on both elbows and peered down between the heathertops. I could see
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  a line or two set for trout, and presumably that meant Quelch was near
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  enough to attend to any bites he got, for a trout does not wait
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  one's pleasure in these matters. I shivered at the idea of killing a man
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  in his house, not that it was his house in any real sense of
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  the word. Marjorie and I built it by ourselves, but just an imaginative
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  forecast of what the experience would be like. I did not intend to give
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  him any more chance than God might ordain, for I had lived in mortal
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  fear all winter, being attached to my family in my own peculiar way.
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  Seeing that Quelch did not emerge if he were indeed inside, I got up
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  and moved forward soft footed. Something caught, and before I could recover my
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  balance came the sound of a bowstring and a clumsily made quarrel bird by beneath
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  my nose. Spring guns and man traps so Quelch had made him crossbows.
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  I plunged forward with all caution thrown to the winds, and out the door
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  rushed my elusive enemy. He shouted inarticulately, shook a spir at me,
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  made a savagely indecent gesture, and cleared off out of bowshot before I could
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  more than lay arrow to string. I marked the direction he took, and
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  dropped in for a hasty inspection of the hut's interior. He had not even
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  scraped the skins for his bed, and the bones of the animals he had
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  devoured. Phew, Yet this man was once civilized. I was glad to
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  get out again into the fresh air and take on after the active enemy.
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  I found him already out of sight, and might have been in a quandary
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  had not the wolf chosen to reappear at this moment. I don't know how
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  or when he came back, but I found him mysteriously at my heels,
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  a witch wolf perhaps, and he seemed to understand that this was a great
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  hunt. We were prosecuting my eyesight supplementing lupus nose. We followed Quelch all
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  that day, but never caught sight of him. A second time. I
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  wondered what a good runner misfortune had made him, and we made our disappointed
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  camp high on the flank of the Black Mountain, the one you can see
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  from the head of White Cow Ravine in clear weather. There After a week
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  rolled by, and I was still on the heels of Michael. His tracks
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  were easy enough to follow except in the rocky places, and the wolf was
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  more than helpful there. But still we had not seen him yet we kept
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  him on the go. I imagine the country changed, and now we were
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  crossing small plains alternating with oak forests. The brooks and rivers ran southwards to
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  the scene at first, and then northeast to unknown outlets. I was almost
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  in despair and wondering how our quarry avoided the numerous animals that attacked us daily
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  and put us to flight as a rule. When the idiot chose to light
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  a fire, it was in a forest, and I managed to get within
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  speaking distance before he broke up camp and left his supper half cooked. A
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  wave of pity swept me off my feet for the moment, and I shouted
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  that his life was not in forfeit, that I offered terms. I heard
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  him pause, and I halted under the shadow of a tree. Whilst he
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  approached gingerly to the other side of the glade, the fire between us showed
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  up his tattered deerskins, the scar on his cheek, and his gap tooth
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  grin. Yet despite his appearance, the thought shot across my mind that one
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  of us was as much the product of civilization as the other. Quelch was
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  no more a real caveman than I was. A caveman might have rejoiced in
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  Quelch's filthy personal habits, but he would at least have possessed some sort of
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  moral code, not to mention a sound set of teeth. I should imagine
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  that a decent caveman, once he had learned to wash, would be quite
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  companionable in his rough way. But this year Gods was a pawnsbroker's assistant gone
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  wrong. All I can say is he didn't look it. If you throw
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  down your arms and come with me, Michael, I said, I felt
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  I was acting weakly. You will be allowed to live on the island,
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  and we will visit you whenever possible. You can have all the animals you
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  want for companionship, and it is better than being a wild beast. Yes,
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  said Quelch, and edged closer. He was still grinning, or rather
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  leering, and I imagine he derived, in some strange way a certain amount
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  of almost pleasure from his outlawry. At least it had brought a hidden fund
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  of courage and self reliance to the surface. I can't offer you more,
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  I continued, after the way you've behaved, perhaps when my boys grow up,
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  look behind you, shrilled Quelch. I half turned one, was always
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  on the alert, but instinct kept the corner of my eye on Michael.
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  Thus it came about that I dodged in time pose. He was so treacherous
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  himself that he could not believe in my own good faith. Poor devil.
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  I thought of that later. At the moment, I shot once swiftly,
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  and Quelch fell, crashing in the bush. I've done it, I said,
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  and ran forward. Next thing I knew, I had the barb of
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  a half warted spear in my right thigh, and Michael was away like a
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  startled deer. You fool, I cursed after him. I'll kill you for
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  that, I'll kill you, retorted Quelch, childish very end of chapter twenty eight