gs.earthabides-第56章

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　　He　took　no　lunch　with　him；　because　he　did　not　feel　hungry。　In　any　case　he　could　always　step　into　a　store；　and　pick　out　some　cans。　He　did　not　strap　his　pistol…belt　around　him；　though　it　was　routine　not　to　go　far　from　the　houses　without　some　kind　of　weapon。　At　the　last　moment；　however；　he　hesitated　uncertainly；　and　then　took　the　hammer　from　the　mantelpiece。　
　　The　very　fact　that　he　took　it　troubled　him　a　little。　Why　was　it　ing　to　loom　so　large　in　his　thoughts？　It　was　by　no　means　his　oldest　possession；　because　scattered　throughout　the　house　were　things　which　he　had　owned　and　could　remember　even　from　the　time　of　his　small　boyhood。　But　still　none　of　them　was　like　the　hammer。　Perhaps　it　was　because　he　associated　it　particularly　with　his　survival　in　the　first　days。　And　yet　he　did　not　believe　what　the　children　seemed　to　believe　about　the　hammer。　
　　He　walked　away　from　the　house；　not　caring　in　what　direction　he　wandered；　so　long　as　he　could　be　by　himself。　The　hammer　dangling　from　one　hand　was　a　nuisance。　He　began　to　feel　an　irritation　against　it。　Was　it　really　ing　to　be　a　superstition　in　his　mind　too；　as　it　was　in　the　minds　of　the　children？　
　　Well；　why　did　he　not　simply　lay　the　hammer　down；　and　pick　it　up　on　his　way　home？　Or　pick　it　up　tomorrow？　Yet；　he　did　not　lay　it　down。　
　　He　realized　that　not　merely　the　temporary　inconvenience　of　the　hammer　was　irritating　him　against　it；　but　rather　his　feeling　that　it　was　ing　to　be　a　fixation　with　him。　He　made　a　sudden　resolve　to　be　done　with　it。　He　would　not　let　his　mind　be　imposed　upon。　As　he　had　once　before　imagined　himself　doing；　he　would　walk　down　to　the　Bay；　and　out　on　the　old　wharf；　then　he　would　throw　the　hammer　violently；　far　out　into　the　waves。　It　would　sink　through　them　deep　into　the　soft　mud　beneath；　and　that　would　be　the　end。　He　walked　on。　Then　the　memory　of　Joey　flooded　over　him　again；　and　as　he　walked；　he　thought　no　more　of　the　hammer。　
　　After　a　while　he　came　out　of　his　sorrow；　and　realized　that　he　was　actually　walking　and　carrying　the　hammer。　Then　he　knew　that　he　was　not　heading　toward　the　Bay；　in　spite　of　his　decision。　He　was　walking　south；　not　west。　
　　〃It　would　be　a　long　walk　to　the　Bay；　and　I　am　still　not　strong；〃　he　said　to　himself。　〃There　is　no　use　walking　so　far　just　to　get　rid　of　this　old　hammer。　I　can　throw　it　into　any　gully　among　the　bushes；　and　I　shall　soon　forget　where　I　threw　it。〃　
　　Then　he　knew　again　that　his　mind　was　trying　to　deceive　him　and　that　even　if　he　threw　the　hammer　into　a　gully　he　would　not　forget　where　he　had　thrown　it　and　would　not　lose　it　in　that　way。　He　quit　his　pretense；　for　he　knew　that　he　did　not　want　to　be　separated　from　the　hammer　and　that　it　had　e　to　mean　a　great　deal　to　him　in　some　strange　way。　At　the　same　time　he　realized　why　he　was　walking　south　and　where　subconsciously　his　mind　was　already　directing　his　feet。　
　　He　was　following　the　broad　street　which　led　toward　the　University　campus。　He　had　not　been　there　for　a　long　time。　As　he　walked；　his　sorrow　was　still　with　him；　but　in　some　way　now　it　had　ceased　to　be　so　overwhelming；　as　if　his　decision　about　the　hammer　had　made　some　change。　
　　Now；　as　so　often　before；　he　looked　around　him；　and　the　mere　pageant　of　the　years　seized　his　interest；　and　took　his　mind　away　from　his　grief。　This　particular　section　had　suffered　badly　in　the　earthquake。　There　was　a　gully　all　the　way　across　the　old　concrete　pavement；　some　crack　of　the　earthquake　had　made　the　break；　rain　and　running　water　had　widened　and　deepened　it；　and　now　trees　and　bushes　were　standing　up　from　the　line　of　the　gully　all　the　way　across　the　wide　street。　Swinging　the　hammer　to　give　him　momentum；　he　jumped　the　four…foot　gap　from　one　edge　of　the　pavement　to　the　other；　and　was　pleased　that　his　legs；　in　spite　of　his　illness；　were　not　too　weak。　
　　As　he　walked　along；　he　saw　the　houses　on　both　sides　of　the　street；　fallen　into　ruin　now；　what　with　the　earthquake　and　the　mere　passage　of　time。　Vines　climbed　high　upon　them。　Encroaching　trees　had　thrown　porches　out　of　line。　
　　Everywhere　he　observed　the　struggle　between　the　native　plants　which　were　moving　back　into　the　gardens；　and　the　exotics　which　once　had　been　planted　there　and　carefully　tended。　
　　He　looked　closely　at　these　overgrown　gardens；　thus　to　take　his　mind　off　worse　things。　He　tried　to　discover　what　plants　were　no　longer　in　existence。　He　saw　no　wisteria　or　camellia　or　coprosma　though　they　had　once　been　mon。　But　the　tall　climbing　rose…vines　were　still　vigorous。　A　large　and　handsome　evergreen　tree　he　recognized　as　a　deodar；　native　to　the　Himalayas。　It　was　still　growing　vigorously；　but　looking　beneath　it；　he　found　no　seedlings。　Apparently　it　could　live　there；　but　would　not　reproduce。　On　the　other　hand　beneath　a　eucalyptus　tree；　a　species　native　to　Australia；　he　found　seedlings　which　had　sprouted　up　through　the　litter　of　leaves　in　which　nothing　else　would　grow。　
　　ing　to　the　campus；　he　passed　first　through　a　grove　of　Italian　stone…pines。　Here；　everything　looked　less　confused　than　it　had　in　the　gardens　along　the　street；　because　the　pines　had　spread　and　formed　a　canopy　beneath　which　little　grass　grew。　The　effect　was　still　park…like。　
　　Near　one　of　the　trees　he　saw　a　large　rattlesnake　lying　in　the　sunshine。　It　seemed　torpid；　not　yet　quite　revived　from　the　chill　of　the　night。　He　could　easily　kill　it。　He　hesitated　a　moment；　but　went　on。　
　　No…he　had　once　been　bitten　and　still　remembered　something　of　that　horror。　But　he　held　no　enmity　to　the　whole　tribe　of　rattlesnakes。　In　fact；　that　bite　had　possibly　saved　his　life。　Perhaps；　rather　than　being　hostile；　he　should　be　grateful；　and　form　a　rattlesnake　clan　around　that　totem。　No；　not　that　either。　He　would　be　neutral。　
　　Then　he　realized　that　this　attitude　of　his　applied　to　more　than　just　rattlesnakes。　He　had　noticed　it　in　the　younger　people　also。　In　the　times　of　civilization　men　had　really　felt　themselves　as　the　masters　of　creation。　Everything　had　been　good　or　bad　in　relation　to　man。　So　you　killed　rattlesnakes。　But　now　nature　had　bee　so　overwhelming　that　any　attempt　at　its　control　was　merely　outside　anyone's　circle　of　thought。　You　lived　as　part　of　it；　not　as　its　dominating　power。　To　bother　with　killing　one　rattlesnake　was　foolish；　because　you　had　no　chance　of　exterritinating　them　or　even　of　appreciably　changing　their　number。　If　one　of　them　came　near　the　houses；　you　killed　it　of　course；　to　protect　the　children。　But　you　did　not　go　crusading　against　rattlesnakes；　any　more　than　you　did　against　mountain…lions。　
　　He　passed　on；　went　down　an　almost　overgrown　stone　stairway；　and　crossed　a　wooden　bridge。　He　felt　it　shaky　with　rot　beneath　his　feet。　It　had　been　an　old　bridge；　he　remembered；　even　when　he　was　a　boy。　Along　the　stream　the　thicket　was　dense；　and　he　had　to　push　his　way　through；　although　underfoot　he　felt　that　he　was　still　on　an　asphalt　walk。　
　　He　heard　a　rustle　somewhere　in　the　thicket；　and　for　a　moment　was　nervous　to　be　without　a　weapon。　It　might　be　a　mountain…lion。　Wolves　or　wild　dogs　also　were　likely　to　haunt　these　thickety　stream…courses。　
　　But　as　he　burst　through　into　the　open　again；　he　saw　only　some　deer　loping　off　through　the　trees。　
　　High　on　his　left；　now；　rose　up　one　of　the　University　buildings。　He　could　not　remember　what　department　had　been　housed　there。　The　shrubbery；　which　once　had　been　kept　neatly　trimmed；　had　now　grown　up　high　and　shaggy；　masking　the　lower　windows。　
　　He　went　on　toward　his　goal。　It　was　only　a　little　way　ahead；　now。　He　burst　through　another　thicket；　and　saw　the　great　Library　building。　
　　He　looked。　This　building　also　was　half　masked　by　the　shrubbery。　One　window　was　broken；　apparently　because　the　branch　of　a　pine　tree　had　grown　out　across　it；　and　then　slapped　back　and　forth　in　some　high　wind。　That　accident　had　happened　since　he　had　last　been　here；　several　years　back。　He　kept　the　University　Library　as　a　reserve　for　the　future。　He　had　even　taught　the　children　to　respect　it。　Yes；　he　had　even；　he　was　afraid；　put　a　kind　of　taboo　upon　it。　In　fact；　not　only　here　but　everywhere；　he　had　always　tried　to　impress　the　children　with　an　almost　mystical　value　of　books。　Still　he　kept　the　symbol　of　the　burning　of　the　books　as　one　of　the　worst　things　that　men　could　do。　
　　He　circled　the　Library；　here　and　there　having　difficulty　in　breaking　his　way　through　bushes。　Once　he　had　to　crawl　over　the　fallen　trunk　of　a　pine　tree。　The　building；　as　far　as　he　could　see；　was　still　in　sound　condition。　He　came　at　last　to　the　window　which　he　had　broken　many　years　before；　and　then　boarded　up。　With　the　hammer　he　began　to　knock　off　a　board。　He　was　careful　not　to　break　the　board；　so　that　he　could　replace　it。　After　all；　he　realized　with　pleasure；　there　had　been　a　rational　background　for　his　bringing　the　hammer　along　with　him。　
　　Having　knocked　off　the　board；　he　was　able　to　climb　through　into　the　building。　Now　he　recalled　the　first　time　that　he　had　gained　entrance　through　the　window。　He　had　e　when　Em　had　told　him　she　was　going　to　have　a　baby；　and　he　had　been　hunting　for　books　on　obstetrics。　All　that　had　seemed　a　tremendous　problem　at　the　time；　and　yet　it　had　solved　itself　without　difficulty。　Why　could　he　never　learn　to　worry　less　about　problems？　Problems　not　infrequently　solved　themselves。　
　　He　went　on　through　the　hall；　and　found　the　old　door　into　the　stacks。　Things　were　not　as　clean　as　they　might　be。　In　spite　of　his　precautions；　bats　had　apparently　found　their　way　into　the　building；　perhaps　through　the　recently　broken　window。　There　was　also　the　litter　of　some　kind　of　rodent。　But　the　droppings　had　done　no　damage　to　the　books。　He　put　out　a　finger；　rubbed　the　tops　of　some　books；　and　brought　it　away　dusty。　That　was　natural；　and　there　was　not　even　a　very　surprising　amount　of　dust。　
　　Yes；　they　were　all　still　there…well　over　a　million　volumes；　almost　all　the　accumulated　learning　of　the　world　still　safe　within　these　four　wals。　He　felt　a　sudden　sense　of　security　and　safety　and　hope。　He　gloated；　like　a　miser。　
　　He　went　down　one　flight　of　the　little　circular　stairway；　and　headed　toward　the　part　of　the　library；　the　geography　section；　which　as　a　graduate　student　he　had　known　best。　He　came　to　the　familiar　alcoves；　and　in　spite　of　all　the　years　he　felt　a　sense　of　having　e　home。　Looking　at　the　shelves；　he　began　to　spot　books　which　he　had　read　and　studied。　
　　One；　in　particular；　caught　his　attention；　a　well…worn　volume；　rebound　in　red　buckram。　He　stretched　out　a　hand；　took　it　from　the　shelf；　and　blew　the　dust　from　its　top。　Looking　at　his　find；　he　saw　the　name　Brooks　and　the　title。　Climate　through　the　Ages。　He　remembered　the　book。　Opening　it；　he　saw　the　card；　and　noticed　that　the　last　borrower　of　the　book…the　date　only　a　month　before　the　Great　Disaster…had　been　someone　named　with　the　unusual　name　of　Isherwood　Williams。　Only　after　a　few　seconds　did　he　realize　that　he　himself　was　Isherwood　Williams。　Nobody　had　called　him　by　his　full　name　for　many　years。　Now　he　could　actually　remember　that　he　had　been　reading　this　book　during　his　last　semester。　It　was　a　good　book　and　interesting；　although　largely　superseded；　he　curiously　found　himself　remembering；　by　the　later　studies　of…well；　someone　with　a　German　name…Zeimer；　perhaps。　
　　He　laid　the　hammer　down；　so　as　to　have　both　hands　for　the　book。　Then　he　went　to　where　light　shone