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diff --git a/29794-h/29794-h.htm b/29794-h/29794-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d5c0e62 --- /dev/null +++ b/29794-h/29794-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1173 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tree, Spare that Woodman, by Dave Dryfoos + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h2 {text-align: center; margin: 0 auto;} + h1 {text-indent: 1em; text-align: left; margin: 0 auto .5em;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 2em auto; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .rgt {text-align: right;} + img {border: none;} + a:link,a:visited {text-decoration: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em; width: auto;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .bk1 {background: url("images/001.png") top left no-repeat; width: 550px; height: 550px; margin: 0 auto; overflow: hidden;} + .bk2 {padding-top: 340px; padding-left: 130px;} + .bk3 {margin: 2em auto; line-height: 1.5; width: 16em;} + .figt {float: left; clear: left; margin: 15px; padding: 0; width: 287px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; min-height: 230px;} + .trn p {margin: 15px;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tree, Spare that Woodman, by Dave Dryfoos + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tree, Spare that Woodman + +Author: Dave Dryfoos + +Illustrator: Fries + +Release Date: August 24, 2009 [EBook #29794] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TREE, SPARE THAT WOODMAN *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="bk1"><div class="bk2"><p class="rgt"><b>Illustrated by FRIES</b></p> + +<h1>Tree,<br /> +Spare That Woodman</h1> + +<h2><small>By DAVE DRYFOOS</small></h2></div></div> + +<div class="bk3"><p><big><b><i>The single thing to fear was +fear—ghastly, walking fear!</i></b></big></p></div> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Stiff</span> with shock, Naomi +Heckscher stood just inside +the door to Cappy's one-room +cabin, where she'd happened +to be when her husband +discovered the old man's body.</p> + +<p>Her nearest neighbor—old +Cappy—dead. After all his wire-pulling +to get into the First +Group, and his slaving to make a +farm on this alien planet, dead in +bed!</p> + +<p>Naomi's mind circled frantically, +contrasting her happy anticipations +with this shocking actuality. +She'd come to call on a +friend, she reminded herself, a +beloved friend—round, white-haired, +rosy-cheeked; lonely because +he'd recently become a +widower. To her little boy, Cappy +was a combination Grandpa and +Santa Claus; to herself, a sort of +newly met Old Beau.</p> + +<p>Her mouth had been set for a +sip of his home brew, her eyes +had pictured the delight he'd take +in and give to her little boy.</p> + +<p>She'd walked over with son and +husband, expecting nothing more +shocking than an ostentatiously +stolen kiss. She'd found a corpse. +And to have let Cappy die alone, +in this strange world ...</p> + +<p>She and Ted could at least +have been with him, if they'd +known.</p> + +<p>But they'd been laughing and +singing in their own cabin only +a mile away, celebrating Richard's +fifth birthday. She'd been annoyed +when Cappy failed to show +up with the present he'd promised +Richard. Annoyed—while the +old man pulled a blanket over his +head, turned his round face to +the wall, and died.</p> + +<p>Watching compassionately, Naomi +was suddenly struck by the +matter-of-fact way Ted examined +the body. Ted wasn't surprised.</p> + +<p>"Why did you tell Richard to +stay outside, just now?" she demanded. +"How did you know +what we'd find here? And why +didn't you tell me, so I could +keep Richard at home?"</p> + +<p>She saw Ted start, scalded by +the splash of her self-directed +anger, saw him try to convert his +wince into a shrug.</p> + +<p>"You insisted on coming," he +reminded her gently. "I couldn't +have kept you home without—without +saying too much, worrying +you—with the Earth-ship +still a year away. Besides, I didn't +know for sure, till we saw the +tree-things around the cabin."</p> + +<p>The tree-things. The trees-that-were-not. +Gnarled blue trunks, +half-hidden by yellow leaf-needles +stretching twenty feet into the +sky. Something like the hoary +mountain hemlocks she and Ted +had been forever photographing +on their Sierra honeymoon, +seven life-long years ago.</p> + +<p>Three of those tree-things had +swayed over Cappy's spring for +a far longer time than Man had +occupied this dreadful planet. +Until just now ...</p> + +<p>The three of them had topped +the rise that hid Cappy's farm +from their own. Richard was running +ahead like a happily inquisitive +puppy. Suddenly he'd +stopped, pointing with a finger +she distinctly recalled as needing +thorough soapy scrubbing.</p> + +<p>"Look, Mommie!" he'd said. +"Cappy's trees have moved. +They're around the cabin, now."</p> + +<p>He'd been interested, not surprised. +In the past year, Mazda +had become Richard's home; only +Earth could surprise him.</p> + +<p>But, Ted, come to think of it, +had seemed withdrawn, his face +a careful blank. And she?</p> + +<p>"Very pretty," she'd said, and +stuffed the tag-end of fear back +into the jammed, untidy mental +pigeon-hole she used for all unpleasant +thoughts. "Don't run too +far ahead, dear."</p> + +<p>But now she had to know what +Ted knew.</p> + +<p>"Tell me!" she said.</p> + +<p>"These tree-things—"</p> + +<p>"There've been <i>other</i> deaths! +How many?"</p> + +<p>"Sixteen. But I didn't want to +tell you. Orders were to leave +women and children home when +we had that last Meeting, remember."</p> + +<p>"What did they say at the +Meeting? Out with it, Ted!"</p> + +<p>"That—that the tree-things +think!"</p> + +<p>"But that's ridiculous!"</p> + +<p>"Well, unfortunately, no. Look, +I'm not trying to tell you that +terrestrial trees think, too, nor +even that they have a nervous +system. They don't. But—well, +on Earth, if you've ever touched +a lighted match to the leaf of a +sensitive plant like the mimosa, +say—and I have—you've been +struck by the speed with which +<i>other</i> leaves close up and droop. +I mean, sure, we know that the +leaves droop because certain cells +exude water and nearby leaves +feel the heat of the match. But +the others don't, yet they droop, +too. Nobody knows how it +works ..."</p> + +<p>"But <i>that's</i> just defensive!"</p> + +<p>"Sure. But <i>that's</i> just on +Earth!"</p> + +<p>"All right, dear. I won't argue +any more. But I still don't understand. +Go on about the Meeting."</p> + +<p>"Well, they said these tree-things +both create and respond to +the patterned electrical impulses +of the mind. It's something like +the way a doctor creates fantasies +by applying a mild electric current +to the right places on a patient's +brain. In the year we've +been here, the trees—or some of +them—have learned to read from +and transmit to our minds. The +range, they say, is around fifty +feet. But you have to be receptive—"</p> + +<p>"Receptive?"</p> + +<p>"Fearful. That's the condition. +So I didn't want to tell you because +you <i>must not</i> let yourself +become afraid, Naomi. We're +clearing trees from the land, in +certain areas. And it's their +planet, after all. Fear is their +weapon and fear can kill!"</p> + +<p>"You still—all you men—should +have let us women know! +What do you think we are? Besides, +I don't really believe you. +How can fear kill?"</p> + +<p>"Haven't you ever heard of a +savage who gets in bad with his +witch-doctor and is killed by +magic? The savage is convinced, +having seen or heard of other +cases, that he <i>can</i> be killed. The +witch-doctor sees to it he's told +he <i>will</i> be killed. And sometimes +the savage actually dies—"</p> + +<p>"From poison, I've always +thought."</p> + +<p>"The poison of fear. The physical +changes that accompany +fear, magnified beyond belief by +belief itself."</p> + +<p>"But how in the world could +all this have affected Cappy? He +wasn't a savage. And he was elderly, +Ted. A bad heart, maybe. +A stroke. Anything."</p> + +<p>"He passed his pre-flight physical +only a year ago. And—well, +he lived all alone. He was careful +not to let you see it, but I know +he worried about these three trees +on his place. And I know he got +back from the Meeting in a worried +state of mind. Then, obviously, +the trees moved—grouped +themselves around his cabin +within easy range. But don't be +afraid of them, Naomi. So long +as you're not, they can't hurt +you. They're not bothering us +now."</p> + +<p>"No. But where's Richard?"</p> + +<p>Naomi's eyes swept past Ted, +encompassing the cabin. No +Richard! He'd been left outside ...</p> + +<p>Glass tinkled and crashed as +she flung back the cabin door. +"Richard! Richard!"</p> + +<p>Her child was not in sight. Nor +within earshot, it seemed.</p> + +<p>"Richard Heckscher! Where +are you?" Sanity returned with +the conventional primness. And it +brought her answer.</p> + +<p>"Here I am, Mommie! Look-at!"</p> + +<p>He was in a tree! He was fifteen +feet off the ground, high in +the branches of a tree-thing, +swaying—</p> + +<p>For an instant, dread flowed +through Naomi as if in her +bloodstream and something was +cutting off her breath. Then, as +the hands over mouth and throat +withdrew, she saw they were +Ted's. She let him drag her into +the cabin and close the broken +door.</p> + +<p>"Better not scare Richard," he +said quietly, shoving her gently +into a chair. "He might fall."</p> + +<p>Dumbly she caught her breath, +waiting for the bawling out she'd +earned.</p> + +<p>But Ted said, "Richard keeps +us safe. So long as we fear for +him, and not ourselves—"</p> + +<p>That was easy to do. Outside, +she heard a piping call: "Look at +me now, Mommie!"</p> + +<p>"Showing off!" she gasped. In a +flashing vision, Richard was half +boy, half vulture, flapping to the +ground with a broken wing.</p> + +<p>"Here," said Ted, picking up +a notebook that had been on the +table. "Here's Cappy's present. A +homemade picture book. Bait."</p> + +<p>"Let <i>me</i> use it!" she said. +"Richard may have seen I was +scared just now."</p> + +<p>Outside again, under the tree, +she called, "Here's Cappy's present, +Richard. He's gone away and +left it for you."</p> + +<p>Would he notice how her voice +had gone up half an octave, become +flat and shrill?</p> + +<p>"I'm coming down," Richard +said. "Let me down, tree."</p> + +<p>He seemed to be struggling. +The branches were cagelike. He +was caught!</p> + +<p>Naomi's struggle was with her +voice. "How did you <i>ever</i> get up +there?" she called.</p> + +<p>"The tree let me up, Mommie," +Richard explained solemnly, "but +he won't let me down!" He whimpered +a little.</p> + +<p>He must <i>not</i> become frightened! +"You tell that tree you've +got to come right down this instant!" +she ordered.</p> + +<p>She leaned against the cabin +for support. Ted came out and +slipped his arm around her.</p> + +<p>"Break off a few leaves, +Richard," he suggested. "That'll +show your tree who's boss!"</p> + +<p>Standing close against her husband, +Naomi tried to stop shaking. +But she lacked firm support, +for Ted shook, too.</p> + +<p>His advice to Richard was +sound, though. What had been a +trap became, through grudging +movement of the branches, a ladder. +Richard climbed down, scolding +at the tree like an angry +squirrel.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Naomi</span> thought she'd succeeded +in shutting her mind. +But when her little boy slid down +the final bit of trunk and came for +his present, Naomi broke. Like a +startled animal, she thrust the +book into his hands, picked him +up and ran. Her mind was a jelly, +red and quaking.</p> + +<p>She stopped momentarily after +running fifty yards. "Burn the +trees!" she screamed over her +shoulder. "Burn the cabin! Burn +it all!" She ran on, Ted's answering +shouts beyond her comprehension.</p> + +<p>Fatigue halted her. At the top +of the rise between Cappy's farm +and their own, pain and dizziness +began flowing over her in waves. +She set Richard down on the +mauve soil and collapsed beside +him.</p> + +<p>When she sat up, Richard +squatted just out of reach, watching +curiously. She made an effort +at casualness: "Let's see what +Daddy's doing back there."</p> + +<p>"He's doing just what you said +to, Mommie!" Richard answered +indignantly.</p> + +<p>Her men were standing together, +Naomi realized. She +laughed. After a moment, Richard +joined her. Then he looked for his +book, found it a few paces away, +and brought it to her.</p> + +<p>"Read to me, Mommie."</p> + +<p>"At home," she said.</p> + +<p>Activity at Cappy's interested +her now. Wisps of smoke were +licking around the trees. A tongue +of flame lapped at one while she +watched. Branches writhed. The +trees were too slow-moving to +escape ...</p> + +<p>But where was Ted? What had +she exposed him to, with her +hysterical orders? She held her +breath till he moved within sight, +standing quietly by a pile of salvaged +tools. Behind him the cabin +began to smoke.</p> + +<p>Ted wasn't afraid, then. He +understood what he faced. And +Richard wasn't afraid, either, because +he didn't understand.</p> + +<p>But she? Surreptitiously Naomi +pinched her hip till it felt black +and blue. That was for being such +a fool. She must <i>not</i> be afraid!</p> + +<p>"Daddy seems to be staying +there," she said. "Let's wait for +him at home, Richard."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to make Daddy +burn <i>our</i> tree?"</p> + +<p>She jumped as if stung. Then, +consciously womanlike, she sought +relief in talk.</p> + +<p>"What do <i>you</i> think we should +do, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I <i>like</i> the tree, Mommie. +It's cool under there. And the +tree plays with me."</p> + +<p>"How, Richard?"</p> + +<p>"If I'm pilot, he's navigator. +Or ship, maybe. But he's so +dumb, Mommie! I always have to +tell him everything. Doesn't +know what a fairy is, or Goldilocks, +or anything!"</p> + +<p>He clutched his book affectionately, +rubbing his face on it. +"Hurry up, Mommie. It'll be +bedtime before you ever read to +me!"</p> + +<p>She touched his head briefly. +"You can look at the book while +I fix your supper."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">But</span> to explain Cappy's pictures—crudely +crayoned cartoons, +really—she had to fill in +the story they illustrated. She +told it while Richard ate: how +the intrepid Spaceman gallantly +used his ray gun against the villainous +Martians to aid the green-haired +Princess. Richard spooned +up the thrills with his mush, gazing +fascinated at Cappy's colorful +and fantastic pictures, propped +before him on the table. Had Ted +been home, the scene might almost +have been blissful.</p> + +<p>It might have been ... if their +own tree hadn't reminded her of +Cappy's. Still, she'd almost managed +to stuff her fear back into +that mental pigeon-hole before +their own tree. It was unbelievable, +but she'd been glancing out +the window every few minutes, +so she saw it start. Their own tree +began to walk.</p> + +<p>Down the hill it came—right +there!—framed in the window behind +Richard's head, moving +slowly but inexorably on a root +system that writhed along the +surface. Like some ancient sculpture +of Serpents Supporting the +Tree of Life. Except that it +brought death ...</p> + +<p>"Are you sick, Mommie?"</p> + +<p>No, not sick. Just something +the matter with her throat, preventing +a quick answer, leaving +no way to keep Richard from +turning to look out the window.</p> + +<p>"I think our tree is coming to +play with me, Mommie."</p> + +<p>No, no! Not Richard!</p> + +<p>"Remember how you used to +say that about Cappy? When he +was really coming to see your +daddy?"</p> + +<p>"But Daddy isn't home!"</p> + +<p>"He'll get here, dear. Now eat +your supper."</p> + +<p>A lot to ask of an excited little +boy. And the tree <i>was</i> his friend, +it seemed. Cappy's tree had even +followed the child's orders. +Richard might intercede—</p> + +<p>No! Expose him to such danger? +How could she think of it?</p> + +<p>"Had enough to eat, dear? +Wash your hands and face at the +pump, and you can stay out and +play till Daddy gets home. I—I +want——I may have to see your +friend, the tree, by myself ..."</p> + +<p>"But you haven't finished my +story!"</p> + +<p>"I will when Daddy gets home. +And if I'm not here, you tell +Daddy to do it."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going, Mommie?"</p> + +<p>"I might see Cappy, dear. Now +go and wash, please!"</p> + +<p>"Sure, Mommie. Don't cry."</p> + +<p>Accept his kiss, even if it <i>is</i> +from a mouth rimmed with supper. +And don't rub it off till he's +gone out, you damned fool. You +frightened fool. You shaking, +sweating, terror-stricken fool.</p> + +<p>Who's he going to kiss when +you're not here?</p> + +<p>The tree has stopped. Our little +tree is having its supper. How +nice. Sucking sustenance direct +from soil with aid of sun and air +in true plant fashion—but exhausting +our mineral resources.</p> + +<p>(How wise of Ted to make you +go to those lectures! You wouldn't +want to die in ignorance, would +you?)</p> + +<p>The lecture—come on, let's go +back to the lecture! Let's free +our soil from every tree or we'll +not hold the joint in fee. No, not +joint. A vulgarism, teacher would +say. Methinks the times are out +of joint. Aroint thee, tree!</p> + +<p>Now a pinch. Pinch yourself +hard in the same old place so +it'll hurt real bad. Then straighten +your face and go stick your head +out the window. Your son is talking—your +son, your sun.</p> + +<p>Can your son be eclipsed by a +tree? A matter of special spatial +relationships, and the space is +shrinking, friend. The tree is only +a few hundred feet from the +house. It has finished its little +supper and is now running +around. Like Richard. <i>With</i> +Richard! Congenial, what?</p> + +<p>Smile, stupid. Your son speaks. +Answer him.</p> + +<p>"What, dear?"</p> + +<p>"I see Daddy! He just came +over the hill. He's running! Can +I go meet him, Mommie?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear. It's too far."</p> + +<p>Too far. Far too far.</p> + +<p>"Did you say something to me, +Richard?"</p> + +<p>"No. I was talking to the tree. +I'm the Spaceman and he's the +Martian. But he doesn't want to +be the Martian!"</p> + +<p>Richard plays. Let us play. +Let us play.</p> + +<p>You're close enough to get into +the game, surely. A hundred and +fifty feet, maybe. Effective range, +fifty feet. Rate of motion? Projected +time-interval? Depends on +which system you observe it from. +Richard has a system.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't want to play, +Mommie. He wants to see you!"</p> + +<p>"You tell that tree your Mommie +<i>never</i> sees strangers when +Daddy isn't home!"</p> + +<p>"I'll <i>make</i> him wait!"</p> + +<p>Stoutly your pot-bellied little +protector prevents his protective +mother from going to pot.</p> + +<p>"If he won't play, I'll use my +ray gun on him!"</p> + +<p>Obviously, the tree won't play. +Watch your son lift empty hands, +arm himself with a weapon yet +to be invented, and open fire +on the advancing foe.</p> + +<p>"Aa-aa-aa!"</p> + +<p>So <i>that's</i> how a ray gun sounds!</p> + +<p>"You're dead, tree! You're +dead! Now you <i>can't</i> play with +me any more. You're dead!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Seeing</span> it happen, then, watching +the tree accept the little +boy's fantasy as fact, Naomi wondered +why she'd never thought of +that herself.</p> + +<p>So the tree was a treacherous +medicine-man, was it? A true-believing +witch-doctor? And who +could be more susceptible to the +poisoning of fear than a witch-doctor +who has made fear work—and +believes it's being used against +him?</p> + +<p>It was all over. She and the +tree bit the dust together. But +the tree was dead, and Naomi +merely fainting, and Ted would +soon be home ...</p> + +<p class="rgt"><b>—DAVE DRYFOOS</b></p> + +<div class="trn"><div class="figt"><a href="images/002-2.jpg"><img src="images/002-1.jpg" width="287" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a></div> + +<p><big><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></big></p> + +<p>This etext was produced from <i>Galaxy Science Fiction</i> October 1952. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Tree, Spare that Woodman, by Dave Dryfoos + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TREE, SPARE THAT WOODMAN *** + +***** This file should be named 29794-h.htm or 29794-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/7/9/29794/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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