John Myers Myers Silverlock

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.It seemed to me that he could finish all three of the defenders aseasily as reaping daisy heads with a stick, and it was evident that he felt thesame way.We were near enough to see him grinning."Gang him, you fools, gang him!" I said aloud.Instead only one man tackledthe man mountain.The latter promptly knocked him spinning with a sweep ofhis sword, and both he and I thought it was all over.It just about was.While thebig boy was winding up for another devastating swat, the man he had woundedsprang inside his guard, jumped up, and pushed his own sword through thegiant's face."Timber!" I exulted.Then my cheer turned to a squawk."Oh, my God! Golias,help!"Watching the fight, I hadn't watched where the river was taking us.It was nowapparent it was going to slat us against a pier.The reason for the town was thebridge, and the reason for the bridge was that the river was uncommonlynarrow there.In consequence the mighty current raced through at doublespeed.Golias sprang to my assistance, but all we could do was to ease theshock of the collision.As it was, one corner of the raft struck the clump of pileswith splintering force, spinning us around and knocking Lucius off his pins.When the raft spun, it removed the pressure against which we had beenthrusting and spilled us to the deck, too.When we recovered interest in what was happening on the bridge, thesituation had changed.Only one of the three guardians I think it was the onewho had killed the giant remained at his post.The other two, having evidentlygot word that the bridge was about to go, were nearing the town side.Of course,if it still held them, it was still possible for it to hold enemies; but the man whoremained had let himself in for it.I was about to express my worry over this development when, with a crackingsound like monstrous static, the eastern end of the bridge collapsed.In thewater it collaborated with the current to drag the rest of the structure down.Interdependent, the wooden piers could not singly hold the weight they carriedand stand against the river.One by one they tilted, and the superstructurepeeled off.It was lucky for us that we were downstream and going away from that furiousstirring of water.Even at that a chasing wave rocked us, and Jones, who washaving a hard time of it, skidded, If Golias hadn't caught him by the tail, therewould have been a donkey in the drink.Having seen that he was safe, I turnedto watch what the army would do to the lone hand who had so balked them.Ilooked just in time.Armor and all, he dived into the stream.It appeared to be a choice of suicide over capture, but to my astonishment hebobbed up and started swimming."Do you think he can make it with all thathardware on him?" I asked.Finding that he still had hold of Lucius' tail, Golias dropped it."There'll be along walk waiting for him on the other bank, but with a stroke like that it lookslike he'll put it through all right." He chuckled."Shall we tell Lars Porsena hemight as well go home, or shall we let him figure it out for himself?"In another few minutes both the town and the frustrated invaders were out ofsight, and the woods closed in on the river again.Seeing that Jones was lyingdown, Golias and I leaned against him, lit up our pipes, and watched withdetached approval while the world went by.Sometimes the raft would be facingtoward one bank, sometimes toward another.Then again it would swing so wefaced up or down stream.By turns we visited both shores and rode the middleof the river, and our talk was loose-footed as our progress.We had the freedomof every port on the chart of thought and took advantage of it in a good fewcases.Even in the Boss of Arden I had never been so comfortably aware of mynatural relation to the elements as I was during the days which followed.Theair we breathed reeked of trees and earth as well as water.Nothing stoodbetween us and day and night in their fullness.Under the sun a breezetempered the heat.When darkness came, it was technically a little cooler, butthe breeze dropped, leaving the air still attuned to our naked bodies.Havingabandoned clothes, we deemed it silly to hide from the warm rain.Usually weslept out on deck, seeking the shelter of the wigwam merely when a storminterfered with our rest.We went ashore only to gather wood and to do a little hunting.About the fifthday, for example, we maneuvered into slack water inshore so that Golias couldland and bag us something for supper.He was going through the business ofloading the old rifle when we heard a voice."You surely intend no such barbarity as to mortify the tender ears of God'sfishes with that murderous blunderbuss, do you?"Glancing up, we saw a man with a rod, landing net, and creel on the bankabove us.In spite of the heat he was carefully dressed, from buckled shoesthrough knickers to a high crowned hat.A small man, he had, allowing for hismustachio and goatee, the face of a happy saint.He was in earnest in what hesaid, I should judge, though a smile made his impertinence acceptable.Golias smiled back at him."I assume," he said, "that although God's fisheshave tender ears, they don't have tender mouths."As if pleased with the contention, the stranger seated himself on the bank."Why to be truthful with you, friend, there are those who have and those whohaven't.One of the dispensations which makes angling the most delightful ofarts is that one which supplies creation with leather-mouthed fish such as thechub or cheven, the barbel, the carp, and the gudgeon on the one hand, andbalance these on the scale of variety with the pike or luce, the perch, or thetrout, whose mouths will spew a hook where dexterity isn't at the other end ofthe line.But if, and your remark could also be taxed for this interpretation, youimply that the hook pains the fish, I could reply that none is on record ascomplaining.Speaking less equivocally, I could grant that such is theprobability, or I could declare that it is no more possible to conceive of a fishhaving feelings than to attribute them to trees.Even less, I should say, for ithad frequently been asserted that each tree once had a spirit winsomelyincarnate in a dryad, who suffered and died with it.Of course, these were notpossessed of the beauty and other pretty qualities which graced the sprites ofdiverse bodies of water, fitting them to be loved by gods and to give birth toheroes and anglers.Can you answer me a question?""Probably not at such length," Golias admitted."Not all subjects permit of discursiveness." The fellow smiled again."Nor dothe addicts of most pursuits have the leisure to develop it.It could even beargued that they are not capable of sending their minds on voyages of inquiry,else wise they would naturally gravitate toward angling.And that returns us tomy question.Why should a man, one whom I can observe to have mentaladdress, plan to run, shout, set off explosives, make a stink in the air withgunpowder, scatter blood, and jangle the nerves of the forest, when the subtlerpleasure of killing fish is at hand?""Passing over the fact that you do not run and shout if you wish to catch upwith a wild turkey," Golias retorted, "I see no difference in the nature of ouractivities [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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