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.There was no doubt about it.One of them was dressed in hisgrandfather's duds, complete with stovepipe hat, skyscraper collar, andwallpaper tie.Of the others, one was in the costume of a rabbit and the secondin that of a mouse.The latter had passed out.Many of the places showed signs of earlier occupancy, but I found one whichdidn't at their end of the table."You boys must have had quite a night of it," Iremarked.The man in the hat took exception to this statement."We haven't had anynight at all; in fact we're still waiting for it." He held out a watch whose face itwas too dim for me to see."Look; it's just six o'clock."It must have been closer to three-thirty, but I knew better than to argue witha drunk's timepiece."So it is," I said.No waiter had appeared, so I helpedmyself to bread, butter, marmalade, cold cuts, and deviled eggs.Meanwhile itoccurred to me that it might be well to check on the directions I had beengiven, to make sure my recent guide wasn't indulging his sense of humoragain."Do you fellows live around here?" I asked.The hat man seemed to be struck with my question."I always live here," hesaid at length."Don't you?""Nope," I said, pouring myself some tea, which was the only potable in sight."I live in Chicago.""How odd," he commented."It find it so much easier to live where I am.""All right," I groaned."You win.I live here.""It's too late," the rabbit said."You had your chance.People keep on gettinginto these difficulties," he confided to his companion."And it's all just a productof sloppy thinking."Being out of sorts, I wasn't going to let that pass."See here, mister," I warnedhim."I know you're carrying a load, and I don't care what you think, sane orsober; but keep it to yourself."Instead of answering, he began arguing with the other about that six o'clockwatch and whether they'd done the right thing greasing it with butter thatmight have had bread crumbs mixed up in it.It was such a typical barroomdiscussion that my aggravation gave way to amusement."What I started out to ask," I interrupted them, sure they had forgotten mybad humor, "is simply: can you tell me where this road runs to?"The man in the old-fashioned get-up dunked a piece of cake and took a bite."That road doesn't run," he mumbled."It's scarcely been known to creep." We were back at that again, but I tried to overlook it."O.K.O.K.But wheredoes it go?""It's a home-loving road," he informed me."There's no record of it straying.""I'm serious," I said, trying to get through to them with the force of myurgency."I really need to be straightened out, because I'm not sure where I'mheading.""How do you think a road can lead you there, then? You expect far too muchof a road." After reproving me, the rabbit fellow spoke in a stage whisper to hiscompanion."There's nothing sillier than unbridled optimism."I had determined not to lose my temper again, but I was having a hard time."Let's take a look from the other side," I persisted."Could I follow it to Heorot?"The man in the hat brooded before responding."I should certainly think so,assuming that it got there first.""You can both go to Hell!" I roared at them.They appeared undisturbed, butthe mouse gink waked up."Why," he asked, leaning toward me, "is an angleworm like a parallelogram?"As I had no quarrel with him so far, I decided to answer."I don't know, Mr.Bones," I said, reaching for the cake."Suppose you tell me."He considered, while I made away with two pieces."Well, I don't know as theyare alike," he decided, "but if you don't think about it, it won't worry you."Having pronounced this dictum, he forthwith went to sleep again.No representative of the management had showed up, and there was still nolight in the house.I was just as glad, having remembered halfway through themeal I had no money.Still I was unwilling to be a deadbeat.My bow could be ofno value to me in town, even if I had learned how to use it.Here at the forest'sedge, however, it should be considered as worth far more than the food I hadconsumed.I left it and the quiver by my place, nodded curtly to the others, andstrode off toward the road.Hearing a plate overturned, I looked back.The one disguised as a mouse wasstill asleep.The one with the old-fashioned clothes was placing a deviled egg onhis head.The one masqueraded as a rabbit was in the act of stringing my bow.Thinking it better not to be a witness, I hastened away.By and large the encounter did me good.Reviewing it, I laughed; and thelaughter helped me to realize that I would not forever be a tortured spirit.Moreover, the mouse lad had something there.I wouldn't forget Rosalette; butif I didn't think about what had happened, it wouldn't worry me.I beganinstead to figure out courses of procedure if Golias didn't turn up at Heorot.Counting the few hours I devoted to needed sleep, it took me most of the dayto reach the turn-off my guide had mentioned.Or I supposed it to be the oneand anxiously scanned the signpost to be certain.By following this road, Icould, it told me, reach Sandhills and Wayland's Forge.But it was not thisinformation that made me exclaim with satisfaction.On the topmost of thethree wooden arrows was the legend: "HEOROT ½ Mile."From the moment I faced down that road I smelled the sea.Soon I caughtsight of it beyond a cluster of buildings.The fact that the principal one of theseand not the town itself had been designated ceased to puzzle me.Heorot waswhat took your eye when you approached.The visual function of the burg'sother structures was to give a measuring rod for grandeur. Impressed though I was, my physical reaction was to cross my fingers.It was along way to come for a meeting that might not take place.Suppertime had swept the streets clear.It was not until I stood before Heorotthat I noted much in the way of signs of life.The doors of the great edifice stoodopen, but it was something above the doorway that drew my eyes.Pinned therewith daggers was a monstrous trophy.If it was like anything I had seen before,it was like an arm.Yet it was big as the hind leg of a dinosaur; the hair on itgrew out from between scales, like weeds pushing out from cracks in thesidewalk; and the hand or paw ended in talons.It had been wrenched off, notcut; very recently, too.Blood still oozed from the raw joint, each drop landingwith a hiss in the iron pot placed to receive it.Meanwhile I was conscious of the jovial riot which seemed to be taking placeinside.When I had gazed my fill at the thing above the doors, I glanced at thetwo men who stood guard on either side of the entrance.They were dressed,and in general looked, much like Brodir's men.Although on duty, they werefeeling informal about it, and one of them grinned as our eyes met."Pretty big game you get around here," I ventured.His grin broadened."That there's pretty big even for these parts."Having found him friendly, I got down to business."I'm supposed to bemeeting a pal here.All right to go in?""Today.Even for people in funny clothes." I was then near enough to discoverthat he hadn't gone sober to his post."We're keepin' open house."Thus passed by the sentry, I crossed the threshold.A grand jamboree was inprogress.Hundreds of men were seated at long tables piled with food.Each ofthem had a mug in his hand, and dozens of waiters were rushing aroundkeeping them filled [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]
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.There was no doubt about it.One of them was dressed in hisgrandfather's duds, complete with stovepipe hat, skyscraper collar, andwallpaper tie.Of the others, one was in the costume of a rabbit and the secondin that of a mouse.The latter had passed out.Many of the places showed signs of earlier occupancy, but I found one whichdidn't at their end of the table."You boys must have had quite a night of it," Iremarked.The man in the hat took exception to this statement."We haven't had anynight at all; in fact we're still waiting for it." He held out a watch whose face itwas too dim for me to see."Look; it's just six o'clock."It must have been closer to three-thirty, but I knew better than to argue witha drunk's timepiece."So it is," I said.No waiter had appeared, so I helpedmyself to bread, butter, marmalade, cold cuts, and deviled eggs.Meanwhile itoccurred to me that it might be well to check on the directions I had beengiven, to make sure my recent guide wasn't indulging his sense of humoragain."Do you fellows live around here?" I asked.The hat man seemed to be struck with my question."I always live here," hesaid at length."Don't you?""Nope," I said, pouring myself some tea, which was the only potable in sight."I live in Chicago.""How odd," he commented."It find it so much easier to live where I am.""All right," I groaned."You win.I live here.""It's too late," the rabbit said."You had your chance.People keep on gettinginto these difficulties," he confided to his companion."And it's all just a productof sloppy thinking."Being out of sorts, I wasn't going to let that pass."See here, mister," I warnedhim."I know you're carrying a load, and I don't care what you think, sane orsober; but keep it to yourself."Instead of answering, he began arguing with the other about that six o'clockwatch and whether they'd done the right thing greasing it with butter thatmight have had bread crumbs mixed up in it.It was such a typical barroomdiscussion that my aggravation gave way to amusement."What I started out to ask," I interrupted them, sure they had forgotten mybad humor, "is simply: can you tell me where this road runs to?"The man in the old-fashioned get-up dunked a piece of cake and took a bite."That road doesn't run," he mumbled."It's scarcely been known to creep." We were back at that again, but I tried to overlook it."O.K.O.K.But wheredoes it go?""It's a home-loving road," he informed me."There's no record of it straying.""I'm serious," I said, trying to get through to them with the force of myurgency."I really need to be straightened out, because I'm not sure where I'mheading.""How do you think a road can lead you there, then? You expect far too muchof a road." After reproving me, the rabbit fellow spoke in a stage whisper to hiscompanion."There's nothing sillier than unbridled optimism."I had determined not to lose my temper again, but I was having a hard time."Let's take a look from the other side," I persisted."Could I follow it to Heorot?"The man in the hat brooded before responding."I should certainly think so,assuming that it got there first.""You can both go to Hell!" I roared at them.They appeared undisturbed, butthe mouse gink waked up."Why," he asked, leaning toward me, "is an angleworm like a parallelogram?"As I had no quarrel with him so far, I decided to answer."I don't know, Mr.Bones," I said, reaching for the cake."Suppose you tell me."He considered, while I made away with two pieces."Well, I don't know as theyare alike," he decided, "but if you don't think about it, it won't worry you."Having pronounced this dictum, he forthwith went to sleep again.No representative of the management had showed up, and there was still nolight in the house.I was just as glad, having remembered halfway through themeal I had no money.Still I was unwilling to be a deadbeat.My bow could be ofno value to me in town, even if I had learned how to use it.Here at the forest'sedge, however, it should be considered as worth far more than the food I hadconsumed.I left it and the quiver by my place, nodded curtly to the others, andstrode off toward the road.Hearing a plate overturned, I looked back.The one disguised as a mouse wasstill asleep.The one with the old-fashioned clothes was placing a deviled egg onhis head.The one masqueraded as a rabbit was in the act of stringing my bow.Thinking it better not to be a witness, I hastened away.By and large the encounter did me good.Reviewing it, I laughed; and thelaughter helped me to realize that I would not forever be a tortured spirit.Moreover, the mouse lad had something there.I wouldn't forget Rosalette; butif I didn't think about what had happened, it wouldn't worry me.I beganinstead to figure out courses of procedure if Golias didn't turn up at Heorot.Counting the few hours I devoted to needed sleep, it took me most of the dayto reach the turn-off my guide had mentioned.Or I supposed it to be the oneand anxiously scanned the signpost to be certain.By following this road, Icould, it told me, reach Sandhills and Wayland's Forge.But it was not thisinformation that made me exclaim with satisfaction.On the topmost of thethree wooden arrows was the legend: "HEOROT ½ Mile."From the moment I faced down that road I smelled the sea.Soon I caughtsight of it beyond a cluster of buildings.The fact that the principal one of theseand not the town itself had been designated ceased to puzzle me.Heorot waswhat took your eye when you approached.The visual function of the burg'sother structures was to give a measuring rod for grandeur. Impressed though I was, my physical reaction was to cross my fingers.It was along way to come for a meeting that might not take place.Suppertime had swept the streets clear.It was not until I stood before Heorotthat I noted much in the way of signs of life.The doors of the great edifice stoodopen, but it was something above the doorway that drew my eyes.Pinned therewith daggers was a monstrous trophy.If it was like anything I had seen before,it was like an arm.Yet it was big as the hind leg of a dinosaur; the hair on itgrew out from between scales, like weeds pushing out from cracks in thesidewalk; and the hand or paw ended in talons.It had been wrenched off, notcut; very recently, too.Blood still oozed from the raw joint, each drop landingwith a hiss in the iron pot placed to receive it.Meanwhile I was conscious of the jovial riot which seemed to be taking placeinside.When I had gazed my fill at the thing above the doors, I glanced at thetwo men who stood guard on either side of the entrance.They were dressed,and in general looked, much like Brodir's men.Although on duty, they werefeeling informal about it, and one of them grinned as our eyes met."Pretty big game you get around here," I ventured.His grin broadened."That there's pretty big even for these parts."Having found him friendly, I got down to business."I'm supposed to bemeeting a pal here.All right to go in?""Today.Even for people in funny clothes." I was then near enough to discoverthat he hadn't gone sober to his post."We're keepin' open house."Thus passed by the sentry, I crossed the threshold.A grand jamboree was inprogress.Hundreds of men were seated at long tables piled with food.Each ofthem had a mug in his hand, and dozens of waiters were rushing aroundkeeping them filled [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]