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+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: ASCII
+
+*** 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
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Illustrated by FRIES]
+
+
+ Tree,
+ Spare That Woodman
+
+ By DAVE DRYFOOS
+
+
+ _The single thing to fear was
+ fear--ghastly, walking fear!_
+
+
+Stiff 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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 ...
+
+She and Ted could at least have been with him, if they'd known.
+
+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.
+
+Watching compassionately, Naomi was suddenly struck by the
+matter-of-fact way Ted examined the body. Ted wasn't surprised.
+
+"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?"
+
+She saw Ted start, scalded by the splash of her self-directed anger, saw
+him try to convert his wince into a shrug.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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 ...
+
+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.
+
+"Look, Mommie!" he'd said. "Cappy's trees have moved. They're around the
+cabin, now."
+
+He'd been interested, not surprised. In the past year, Mazda had become
+Richard's home; only Earth could surprise him.
+
+But, Ted, come to think of it, had seemed withdrawn, his face a careful
+blank. And she?
+
+"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."
+
+But now she had to know what Ted knew.
+
+"Tell me!" she said.
+
+"These tree-things--"
+
+"There've been _other_ deaths! How many?"
+
+"Sixteen. But I didn't want to tell you. Orders were to leave women and
+children home when we had that last Meeting, remember."
+
+"What did they say at the Meeting? Out with it, Ted!"
+
+"That--that the tree-things think!"
+
+"But that's ridiculous!"
+
+"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 _other_ 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 ..."
+
+"But _that's_ just defensive!"
+
+"Sure. But _that's_ just on Earth!"
+
+"All right, dear. I won't argue any more. But I still don't understand.
+Go on about the Meeting."
+
+"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--"
+
+"Receptive?"
+
+"Fearful. That's the condition. So I didn't want to tell you because you
+_must not_ 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!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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 _can_ be killed. The witch-doctor
+sees to it he's told he _will_ be killed. And sometimes the savage
+actually dies--"
+
+"From poison, I've always thought."
+
+"The poison of fear. The physical changes that accompany fear, magnified
+beyond belief by belief itself."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"No. But where's Richard?"
+
+Naomi's eyes swept past Ted, encompassing the cabin. No Richard! He'd
+been left outside ...
+
+Glass tinkled and crashed as she flung back the cabin door. "Richard!
+Richard!"
+
+Her child was not in sight. Nor within earshot, it seemed.
+
+"Richard Heckscher! Where are you?" Sanity returned with the
+conventional primness. And it brought her answer.
+
+"Here I am, Mommie! Look-at!"
+
+He was in a tree! He was fifteen feet off the ground, high in the
+branches of a tree-thing, swaying--
+
+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.
+
+"Better not scare Richard," he said quietly, shoving her gently into a
+chair. "He might fall."
+
+Dumbly she caught her breath, waiting for the bawling out she'd earned.
+
+But Ted said, "Richard keeps us safe. So long as we fear for him, and
+not ourselves--"
+
+That was easy to do. Outside, she heard a piping call: "Look at me now,
+Mommie!"
+
+"Showing off!" she gasped. In a flashing vision, Richard was half boy,
+half vulture, flapping to the ground with a broken wing.
+
+"Here," said Ted, picking up a notebook that had been on the table.
+"Here's Cappy's present. A homemade picture book. Bait."
+
+"Let _me_ use it!" she said. "Richard may have seen I was scared just
+now."
+
+Outside again, under the tree, she called, "Here's Cappy's present,
+Richard. He's gone away and left it for you."
+
+Would he notice how her voice had gone up half an octave, become flat
+and shrill?
+
+"I'm coming down," Richard said. "Let me down, tree."
+
+He seemed to be struggling. The branches were cagelike. He was caught!
+
+Naomi's struggle was with her voice. "How did you _ever_ get up there?"
+she called.
+
+"The tree let me up, Mommie," Richard explained solemnly, "but he won't
+let me down!" He whimpered a little.
+
+He must _not_ become frightened! "You tell that tree you've got to come
+right down this instant!" she ordered.
+
+She leaned against the cabin for support. Ted came out and slipped his
+arm around her.
+
+"Break off a few leaves, Richard," he suggested. "That'll show your tree
+who's boss!"
+
+Standing close against her husband, Naomi tried to stop shaking. But she
+lacked firm support, for Ted shook, too.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Naomi 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"He's doing just what you said to, Mommie!" Richard answered
+indignantly.
+
+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.
+
+"Read to me, Mommie."
+
+"At home," she said.
+
+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 ...
+
+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.
+
+Ted wasn't afraid, then. He understood what he faced. And Richard wasn't
+afraid, either, because he didn't understand.
+
+But she? Surreptitiously Naomi pinched her hip till it felt black and
+blue. That was for being such a fool. She must _not_ be afraid!
+
+"Daddy seems to be staying there," she said. "Let's wait for him at
+home, Richard."
+
+"Are you going to make Daddy burn _our_ tree?"
+
+She jumped as if stung. Then, consciously womanlike, she sought relief
+in talk.
+
+"What do _you_ think we should do, dear?"
+
+"Oh, I _like_ the tree, Mommie. It's cool under there. And the tree
+plays with me."
+
+"How, Richard?"
+
+"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!"
+
+He clutched his book affectionately, rubbing his face on it. "Hurry up,
+Mommie. It'll be bedtime before you ever read to me!"
+
+She touched his head briefly. "You can look at the book while I fix your
+supper."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But 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.
+
+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.
+
+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 ...
+
+"Are you sick, Mommie?"
+
+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.
+
+"I think our tree is coming to play with me, Mommie."
+
+No, no! Not Richard!
+
+"Remember how you used to say that about Cappy? When he was really
+coming to see your daddy?"
+
+"But Daddy isn't home!"
+
+"He'll get here, dear. Now eat your supper."
+
+A lot to ask of an excited little boy. And the tree _was_ his friend, it
+seemed. Cappy's tree had even followed the child's orders. Richard might
+intercede--
+
+No! Expose him to such danger? How could she think of it?
+
+"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 ..."
+
+"But you haven't finished my story!"
+
+"I will when Daddy gets home. And if I'm not here, you tell Daddy to do
+it."
+
+"Where are you going, Mommie?"
+
+"I might see Cappy, dear. Now go and wash, please!"
+
+"Sure, Mommie. Don't cry."
+
+Accept his kiss, even if it _is_ 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.
+
+Who's he going to kiss when you're not here?
+
+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.
+
+(How wise of Ted to make you go to those lectures! You wouldn't want to
+die in ignorance, would you?)
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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. _With_ Richard! Congenial, what?
+
+Smile, stupid. Your son speaks. Answer him.
+
+"What, dear?"
+
+"I see Daddy! He just came over the hill. He's running! Can I go meet
+him, Mommie?"
+
+"No, dear. It's too far."
+
+Too far. Far too far.
+
+"Did you say something to me, Richard?"
+
+"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!"
+
+Richard plays. Let us play. Let us play.
+
+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.
+
+"He doesn't want to play, Mommie. He wants to see you!"
+
+"You tell that tree your Mommie _never_ sees strangers when Daddy isn't
+home!"
+
+"I'll _make_ him wait!"
+
+Stoutly your pot-bellied little protector prevents his protective mother
+from going to pot.
+
+"If he won't play, I'll use my ray gun on him!"
+
+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.
+
+"Aa-aa-aa!"
+
+So _that's_ how a ray gun sounds!
+
+"You're dead, tree! You're dead! Now you _can't_ play with me any more.
+You're dead!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Seeing it happen, then, watching the tree accept the little boy's
+fantasy as fact, Naomi wondered why she'd never thought of that herself.
+
+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?
+
+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 ...
+
+                                                        --DAVE DRYFOOS
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+    This etext was produced from _Galaxy Science Fiction_ 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.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Tree, Spare that Woodman, by Dave Dryfoos
+
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