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diff --git a/77357-h/77357-h.htm b/77357-h/77357-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7e06830 --- /dev/null +++ b/77357-h/77357-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,967 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Testing | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.p5 {font-size: 1.5em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + + +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + + + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +figcaption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowe26_9375 {width: 26.9375em;} + +.x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77357 ***</div> + +<div class="hide"> +<figure class="figcenter illowe26_9375" id="cover600"> + <img class="w100" src="images/cover600.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div> + +<h1>Testing</h1> + +<p class="center p5">by Jacques Jean Ferrat</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>The patriarch had the strength +and courage of a young man. But +only the wisdom of the very old +could prevent a terrible war.</p> + +<p><i>The ebullient author of</i> NIGHTMARE TOWER <i>and</i> WHEN THE +WHITE RAIN CAME <i>has done it again—achieved a near-miracle of +reporting in the wondrous bright purlieus of tomorrow. We’ve often +wondered whether Jacques Jean Ferrat actually travels into the future +to observe its liveliest attributes or simply peers through one of +those remarkable “peepholes in Time” which open up occasionally. +Whatever his technique, the results are delightful</i>.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"></div> + +<p>A terrestrial journalist once +described the plight of a space +pilot on a solo interstellar trip as +being similar to that of a flea on +one of the great stone dogs of +Planet VI, Betelgeuse. All that +vast expanse to plunder and no way +of getting at it.</p> + +<p>To Echelon Leader Hannibal +Pryor, the simile was apt. It was +aggravated by the fact that he was +an unwilling flea. If his chief and +sponsor, Star Marshal Stefan Lopez, +had not backed the losing side +in the last Sirius IX plebescite, +Pryor would have been piloting +the immense star-battleship <i>Erebus</i>, +from which the planet-buster was +to be dropped. Instead, he had +been assigned this miserable chore +of checking Rigel IV, the planet +scheduled for blasting.</p> + +<p>It was a job that should have +gone to a mere ensign, not a veteran +echelon leader with three +comets on his breast. There was +nothing to do. His survey route +had been plotted in advance by +the calculators that crammed the +deck below and precision instruments +did all the checking. If +Rigel IV were habitable or inhabited, +it would not have been selected +for the test.</p> + +<p>The flying laboratory in which +he sat would circle it twice, then +return under automatic control to +the dot in space, 3,000,000 kilometers +away, five o’clock vector, +where ships of half the inhabited +planets were gathering to watch +the test.</p> + +<p>Wellington Smith, the new +chief star marshal, had his own +pet pilot for the big job. Hannibal +Pryor, as one of Lopez’ top men, +was out of the big picture.</p> + +<p>Flying the preliminary milk +run! It made acid flow in his veins. +And he was getting fat from +punching out weird gastronomic +combinations on the food-board. +There was nothing to do but eat—and +swill up the non-intoxicating +drinks available through the +dispenser.</p> + +<p>The way things stood, Pryor +knew he’d be lucky if he made +wing chief in ten years Earth-time. +Once you were out of the big picture, +it took a miracle to pull you +back into focus.</p> + +<p>Idly, Pryor lowered his long +dark-skinned body into the observer’s +bucket, and watched the small +golden dot that was Rigel IV +swiftly enlarge itself on the screen. +It took on a bluish tinge and acquired +the fuzzy halo that denoted +an atmosphere.</p> + +<p>The scientists, prodded by the +political leaders of Sirius Sector, +had selected for the sake of thoroughness +a planet known to be +habitable, though uninhabited, at +least by human beings. The planet-buster +had already been tested on +the airless satellites of one of the +dark stars.</p> + +<p>Without much interest, Pryor +watched Rigel IV fill the screen, +gradually become convex. He had +landed on far too many worlds to +be frightened by the effect of its +falling upon him as he neared it. +Half-subconsciously, he noted that +the star-brakes were working perfectly.</p> + +<p>He felt the faint jar as the atmosphere +engines took over from +the star-drive. The little lights on +the panel flared and flickered in +proper sequence as the flying laboratory +began its first circuit of a +world that was soon to be blasted +to stardust.</p> + +<p>Later, he realized that he must +have dozed off. At any rate, he +missed the flicker of green light at +the left of the panel and it took +the rasping electronic voice that +unexpectedly called, “Pilot control, +pilot control, pilot control,” to +awaken him.</p> + +<p>He muttered, “<i>Diamede!</i>” in +sheer disbelief, as he pushed the +button that turned off the voice +and took over the controls. It +couldn’t possibly have happened +and yet—the instruments were +never wrong.</p> + +<p>Rigel IV was inhabited—by humans!</p> + +<p>As he brought the ship in along +an ever-slowing parabola, Pryor +pulled the outspeaker over in front +of his mouth and said, “Lab Able +calling <i>Erebus</i>, Lab Able calling +<i>Erebus</i>. Locator shows humanity on +Rigel Four, locator shows humanity +on Rigel Four. Over.”</p> + +<p>He held course and watched the +seconds tick by on the call +chronometer. Eleven, twelve, thirteen ... +thirty-five, thirty-six ... +A burst of gibberish emerged from +the inspeaker until he tuned the +unscrambler and heard, “I hear you, +Lab Able. Check for inhabitants +and arrange immediate evacuation, +check for inhabitants and arrange +immediate evacuation. Report +when assignment complete, report +when assignment complete. Time +is of the essence, time is of the +essence. Over and out, over and +out.”</p> + +<p>Pryor wrestled with temptation. +If he put another message +through, unscrambled, stating the +situation, Interstellar Control monitors +would inevitably pick it up. +Interstellar Control was death on +any interference with inhabited +planets. Interstellar Control was +already on record as being against +the planet-buster test on a usable +world. And not even the new +chief star marshal was strong +enough to buck IC.</p> + +<p>Pryor smiled and hummed a +little Antarean tune as he slowed +Lab Able to hovering speed. If he +handled the situation adroitly, he +should be able to get Marshal +Lopez out of the doghouse—and, +quite as important, one Echelon +Leader Hannibal Pryor back in the +big picture.</p> + +<p>According to the instruments, +the humans on Rigel IV lived in +a single small settlement in the +south temperate zone of the planet, +surprisingly close to the forbidding +antarctic ice-cap.</p> + +<p>Pryor cut in distance-detail vision +and blinked unbelievingly at +a cluster of thatched roofs about +a strangely familiar structure with +a tall white pointed spire. The +fields about the settlement, where +they did not show cultivation, bore +an odd pale purple hue. Beyond +the village lay a long, narrow, +twisting body of pale blue water.</p> + +<p>Pryor spotted a level spot that +looked suitable for landing, clear +of the tilled fields. His mocha colored +fingers played the panel-buttons +like the fingers of an organist +ringing in stops, as he prepared +Lab Able for its descent.</p> + +<p>Emerging from his ship, Pryor +discovered that the pale purple +fields were actually covered with +a sort of low, tough shrubbery. It +covered the sparsely-treed hills beyond +the lake and seemed to fade +into the deep misty blue of the +afternoon sky.</p> + +<p>Although he had never seen a +landscape like it, in all his roving +over scores of planets, Pryor found +it pleasant. A strong, cool wind +whipped his weatherproof coverall +against the backs of his legs. +After the artificial atmosphere of +Lab Able, the fresh air stung his +nostrils pleasantly. And the smell +of the pale purple shrubbery was +sweet.</p> + +<p>He scrambled over a low barrier +of uncut gray stone that marked +the boundary of the field in which +he had landed and found himself +on a narrow road of ochre-hued +dirt. He trudged along it, toward +the village, and around a dipping +bend met two men riding in a surface +car of fantastically ancient +vintage. If Pryor had not seen +similar vehicles in his histofilm +course at the academy, he would +scarcely have known what it was. +It actually ran on wheels with plastic +rims.</p> + +<p>It pulled to a halt alongside him +and the red-bearded patriarch sitting +next to the young man at the +controls, leapt spryly out and said +in odd thick accents, “Welcome +to Leith on Nevis, sir.”</p> + +<p>The older man had to repeat the +greeting before Pryor found words. +There was so much that was astonishing +about him. First, his clothing. +It consisted of stout shoes of +what looked like real leather, long +woven socks in brilliant diamond +checks, a brief black jacket and a +sort of skirt woven in a complex +pattern of blue-and-green checks +and kept from flaring in the wind +by a heavy pouch of some sort of +fur.</p> + +<p>A sort of blanket that matched +the skirt was slung over his left +shoulder and an odd-looking flat +black bonnet, turned up on one +side by an elaborate metal clip, +had a headband of the same bright +material.</p> + +<p>Second, his beard. For centuries, +all male human children were +given facial depilation shortly after +birth, and as a result, the old man’s +luxurious red growth looked both +alarming and unsanitary. Third, +his skin. It was like that of the +young man engaged in turning the +vehicle awkwardly about, a pale +reddish pink that made Pryor conscious +of his own dark normality.</p> + +<p>When he had recovered from +his surprise at encountering such +a strange specimen, Pryor returned +his greeting and asked to +be taken to the chief or leader of +the community.</p> + +<p>The younger man, who had +pulled up alongside again but facing +the other way, said, “You’re +speaking to the Dominie now, +sir.” His accent was as alien and +thick as that of the man with the +beard. And his costume was similar +save for minor details.</p> + +<p>On the way to the village, they +had to halt while a flock of <i>baaa</i>ing +gray sheep, tended by a husky-looking +youngster and a long-haired +black-and-white dog, crossed +the dirt road. Pryor, who had never +seen anything like them before, +asked what they were, what they +were for.</p> + +<p>The older man smiled and said, +“Their wool supplies us with the +clothing we wear. Their hides provide +us with light leather. Their +flesh provides us with meat for +the table.”</p> + +<p>Pryor nodded, wishing he hadn’t +asked. The idea of eating the +flesh of living creatures—or recently +living creatures—appalled him. +He had an idea he wasn’t going +to enjoy his dinner.</p> + +<p>The village, with its stone +houses and thatched roofs reminded +Pryor of a village in a fairy tale +vidarfilm. He noted with growing +amazement that all the inhabitants +seemed to be fair of hair and skin, +all wore the gay skirts and bonnets, +regardless of sex. He was asked to +alight in front of the largest house, +one close by the stone church with +its white wooden spire.</p> + +<p>The Dominie led him into a +room of wholly unexpected comfort +and applied flame to a pile +of cut logs in a wide stone fireplace.</p> + +<p>This done, he produced two +earthenware mugs and a stone +bottle and said, “I doubt not but +that your mission to Leith on +Nevis is important. It is only fitting +we indulge in a drop before we +come to such matters.”</p> + +<p>The Dominie drained his mug +without changing expression, but +the innocent looking amber liquid +made Pryor gasp. It seemed to burn +his gullet and, seconds later, start +a warming fire in his veins. When +he could talk, he gasped, “What +was that, Dominie?”</p> + +<p>“That,” said the older man, +smiling through his beard, “is +uisquebaugh, the water of life, +known to the less ancient as whiskey.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve heard of it,” Pryor managed. +He wondered if he weren’t +dreaming the whole business, and +shook himself mentally in an effort +to awaken in the prosaic surroundings +of Lab Able. But nothing +changed.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid,” he said, “I’ve +brought you a problem, Dominie.” +He wondered what the word +meant. “I’ve got orders from headquarters, +Sirius Sector to have this +planet evacuated at once.”</p> + +<p>Courteously, the older man refilled +Pryor’s mug, then poured +more liquid fire into his own. He +said, “And what is the alternative?”</p> + +<p>“There is no alternative,” +Pryor replied bluntly. “In a matter +of thirty-six hours, Earth-time, +this little world is going to be +blown to smithereens.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll say one thing for you, +young man,” said the Dominie. +“You don’t believe in beating +about the bush.” He drained his +mug once more, and added over +its rim, “Is the universe at war?”</p> + +<p>“Not at present, I’m happy to +say,” said Pryor.</p> + +<p>“Then I fear your errand is +wasted,” said the other. “If there +is no war, then we shall not evacuate. +Even if there were, I should +hesitate to uproot my people. They +would have to leave so much of +what they have wrought and love +behind them.”</p> + +<p>“I assure you,” said Pryor, wondering +just how stupid the patriarch +was, “that you will receive ample +compensation.”</p> + +<p>“Can you then arrange ample +compensation for human hearts?” +the old man asked.</p> + +<p>Pryor braced himself and +drained his mug. To his surprise, +the whiskey or whatever it was, +went down smoothly. He said, “I’m +afraid you don’t understand the +situation, sir. This planet, Rigel +Four, is the subject for testing of +the deadliest new bomb ever made. +The experiment is already under +way. You and your people must +evacuate. Of course, if our plotters +had known of your existence—”</p> + +<p>“They’d have selected another +world to blow up,” the Dominie +finished for him. “I fear they’ll +have to make the change anyway. +Our title to this planet is quite clear +and above-board. Allow me to +show you.”</p> + +<p>He rose, crossed to a lovingly +carved and polished cabinet, and +withdrew not a vidiroll but some +actual ancient documents, handed +them to Pryor.</p> + +<p>Pryor looked at them with +growing excitement. It was a +planet charter, beyond question, +granted some two centuries before +by Interplanetary Control, the predecessor +of Interstellar Control. It +stated that Arnold MacRae, Ian +Stephenson and Alexandra Hamilton +had purchased, in goods, cash +and services, the full rights to +Rigel IV, hereafter to be known +as Nevis. It added that the rights +were to run in perpetuity, save only +in the case of interstellar war and +then only during the existence of a +state of war.</p> + +<p>Somebody had slipped when +Marshal Wellington Smith selected +Rigel IV for his planet-busting +test. Pryor suspected the listing of +this world under Nevis, among the +titled planets, rather than as Rigel +IV among the untitled, plus the +antiquity of the deal and the small +size and isolation of the settlement, +had caused the error.</p> + +<p>He stood up, noting that the +floor seemed to slant where it had +been level when he entered. He +said, “There’s been a serious error, +I fear. Can you have me driven to +my ship at once? I must report it +while there is still time.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, young man,” said the +Dominie, rising.</p> + +<p>Back in Lab Able, Pryor ran his +hands over his face, which felt unreasonably +hot. He punched in the +outspeaker, called the <i>Erebus</i> and +explained the situation. At its conclusion, +he added innocently, +“Shall I call in Interstellar for +checking and aid? Over.”</p> + +<p>He had to wait almost half an +hour, Earth-time, for the reply to +come through. In the meantime, +he could picture the consternation +among the smug brass hats on the +flagship. He hummed the Antarean +ditty again, feeling strangely relaxed +and comfortable.</p> + +<p>Finally it came through. When +he got it unscrambled, it was orders +to sit tight while higher +authority dealt with the situation. He +signed off, chuckling, and went +back outside to the ancient surface-car, +where the young man and a +young woman were waiting for +him. He had left the message recorder +on, resolved to return in +two hours for further orders. If +there were none, he was going to +call in IC. Come what might, he +was back in the big picture with +a vengeance.</p> + +<p>When they reached the Dominie’s +house, the girl said, “When +you’re through eating, perhaps +you’ll come to the kirk vestry. +We’ll be having a small dance.”</p> + +<p>He looked at her more closely +and, in spite of the rosy and unnatural +whiteness of her skin, +noted that she was comely. He resolved +to visit the kirk vestry as +soon as politeness would permit, +whatever a kirk vestry might be.</p> + +<p>He drank more of the Dominie’s +uisquebaugh before dinner and +found himself asking, “Pardon me, +sir, but would you answer one +question?” And, at the older +man’s nod, “Why are you so +few?”</p> + +<p>“We are few by choice,” was +the reply. “Our forefathers long +ago left Earth for Proxima Centauri +Seven, in one of the earliest +migrations, to escape overcrowding. +My people and I like room to +breathe in, room to roam and work +without restriction. When PC +Seven grew too crowded, we +pooled our resources and purchased +this world. In those days, +planets such as this were cheap +enough. The Control was glad to +have them settled. Since then, we +have limited our numbers to avoid +a repetition of what went before.”</p> + +<p>Thinking of a life spent in the +crowded cities of crowded planets +or in the cramped quarters of starships, +Pryor understood. It had +been in search of space and freedom +that he had joined the service—only +to exchange urban jamming +for the prisons of strict discipline +and limited space.</p> + +<p>“You’ve created a dream,” Pryor +said.</p> + +<p>The Dominie put down his +empty mug and said gravely, +“Don’t think it’s been easy. Adapting +to the most hospitable alien +world is a backbreaking job. But +we’ve never been afraid of work.”</p> + +<p>“I can see that,” said Pryor, +feeling oddly useless. He wondered +how he would fare without +buttons to push, circuits to serve +him.</p> + +<p>The Dominie’s wife, a tall, +handsome woman with the frame +of a percheron, appeared and announced +that dinner was ready. +Thanks to the whiskey, or perhaps +to his absorption in his exotic surroundings, +Pryor found himself actually +eating meat—and actually +enjoying it. The mutton was crisp +and black on the outside, tender +and pink in the center, and the +vegetables and fruits served with +it constituted a rich new experience.</p> + +<p>During the meal, the Dominie’s +wife said, “Tell me, Mr. Pryor, if +the universe is not at war, why +do they wish to blow up our +planet?”</p> + +<p>Pryor explained as best he could—and, +unexpectedly, he seemed to +be thinking and expressing himself +more clearly than ever before. +He told them about the rise of the +aggressive elements in Sirius Sector, +about the plebescite that had +put Wellington Smith in power.</p> + +<p>“They’re fretting under the restrictions +of IC,” he said, “and +they’re seeking to gather sufficient +strength to obtain concessions. As +long as they remain within IC +limits, they can’t be touched.”</p> + +<p>The Dominie said quietly, “It’s +the same dreadful story, Mary. Too +many people, too many unhappy +people, restlessness, conspiracy, +war. This time the whole universe +will suffer.” Then, to Pryor, “But +if your Star Marshal obliterates an +inhabited IC planet, he’ll be in +trouble, will he not?”</p> + +<p>“If he should dare do such a +thing—and I feel sure he won’t,” +said Pryor, “he’ll be as good as +ruined.” For some reason he +added, as an afterthought, “That +is, if IC hears of it.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” said the patriarch, nodding +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>His wife said, “There’s a dance +in the kirk vestry this evening, Mr. +Pryor. I hope you’ll be in attendance. +Naturally, you’ll honor us by +being our guest overnight.”</p> + +<p>Pryor found the kirk vestry +without trouble. It was an extension +of the big building with the +white spire and less than fifty +meters from the Dominie’s house. +He intended merely to get someone +to drive him to his ship and +get his message out. But when he +heard the shrill, rhythmic combination +of bagpipes and fiddle, something +stirred deep in his ancestral +memory and he forgot about all +else.</p> + +<p>He danced with the girl of the +surface-car and she showed him the +steps of the strange dances and his +feet had magic in them. He laughed +with the men and drank more of +the whiskey and the night became +a golden whirl of primitive excitement +such as he had never +known. He needed the help of +two of the young men to get him +back to the Dominie’s house, where +he was undressed and put into a +soft warm object they called a +bed.</p> + +<p>He knew no more until the concussion +of the explosion brought +him sharply out of his drunken +slumber. Although his tongue was +thick with fur and his head rattled +as if it were filled with dried pebbles, +he woke up sober.</p> + +<p>Through the bedroom window, +he saw the flickering brilliance of +the exploded bomb mounting slowly +toward the stars. He turned and, +with a strange sickness in his stomach, +scrambled into his clothing. +Outside, he could hear the little +community coming to life.</p> + +<p>He hadn’t believed they would +do it. When he got out of the +vehicle, he saw an odd little mound +of molten metal where Lab Able +had stood in silver serenity a few +minutes earlier. Silently, he cursed +the ruthless militarists who were +going to blast Rigel IV to dust, +and cursed his own irresponsibility +for not sending the message that +would have put a halt to their +plans.</p> + +<p>Somebody said in the odd accent +that was already becoming +familiar, “What happened, Mr. +Pryor?”</p> + +<p>Pryor thought fast though his +head ached badly. He said, “I fear +the drive fuel reached critical +mass. It happens once in a hundred +thousand times.” It hadn’t, it +couldn’t, but how could he tell +them they were as good as dead?</p> + +<p>And himself with them, of +course. But he didn’t waste time +thinking about that.</p> + +<p>When he got back to the Dominie’s +house, the wife greeted him +gravely. She wore a soft wool robe, +and her hair was in odd wisps of +paper, and he could tell by the +way she looked at him that she +knew.</p> + +<p>“Where can I find the Dominie?” +he asked.</p> + +<p>“He’s in the basement of the +kirk,” she said in her soft untroubled +voice. “He asked me to +ask you to join him there.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks, ma’am,” Pryor replied. +There was nothing more to +say.</p> + +<p>The light was dim in the basement. +The place smelled of age +and dampness. But there was machinery +there, a vast pile of it, and +the Dominie was fussing around +it, wearing a frown.</p> + +<p>“Ho, there, Pryor,” he said. “So +they blew up your ship?”</p> + +<p>“They blew her up,” said Pryor +grimly. “I never thought they’d +dare. If only I hadn’t made an +idiot of myself at the dance, I’d—”</p> + +<p>The Dominie cut him off with, +“It’s a bit late for regrets, young +man. Come see if we can get this +blasted communicator working.”</p> + +<p>Pryor’s heart leapt. For a moment, +he thought he was gaining +a reprieve. Then he saw the age +and condition of the old set—it +was at least a century old—and +realized they’d be lucky to get a +message out at all before the big +one blew them to nothingness.</p> + +<p>“Come on, Dominie,” he said, +“let’s have that wrench.”</p> + +<p>They worked through the short +night and into the morning that +followed. The Dominie’s wife +brought them a strange herb brew +she called tea, that reinvigorated +them. She said, to Pryor, “Sheila +and the other girls are very excited. +They believe you’ll be staying +a while now. You’ll be the first +stranger in many years.”</p> + +<p>Pryor wiped his brow grimly and +said, “Well, I’ll be here as long +as any of them, I guess.”</p> + +<p>“Then there’s no hope?” the +Dominie asked quietly over his tea.</p> + +<p>“Oh, we’ll get a message out +to the IC,” said Pryor. “We’re +almost ready to send. But it will +be too late. The bomb is already +on its way.”</p> + +<p>“Come on then,” said the Dominie, +handing his tea back to his +wife. “Let’s waste no time.”</p> + +<p>They got the message out, before +the reddish sun reached the Meridian. +And Pryor said grimly, +“That makes their second mistake. +They should have blasted the town +last night, not just my ship. Their +first mistake was in selecting this +planet.” He looked about him at +the placid, happy scene, and suppressed +a heaving sob.</p> + +<p>The Dominie put a firm hand +on his shoulder and said, “Perhaps +it’s best this way. Perhaps this is +why we are here, to prevent the +most terrible war of all. After all, +there aren’t many of us against +those who would die if your marshal +got his way.”</p> + +<p>Pryor said, his eyes shining with +admiration, “You’re a great man, +Dominie—and a brave one.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s just say an old one,” said +the patriarch. “And now, since we +have so little time, let’s you and I +walk to the edge of the loch and +look at the hills on the other side. +It’s a lovely view.”</p> + + + + +<div class="transnote"><h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Note">Transcriber's Note:</h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, March 1956 (Vol. 5, +No. 2.). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed.</p> + +<p>Obvious errors have been silently corrected in this version, but minor +inconsistencies have been retained as printed.</p> +</div></div> + + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77357 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |