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Updated: June 4, 2025
In the moonlight the distribution of shadows that constituted Cossar's visage intimated calm. "Hullo," said Cossar, "back already? Where's the lamps? They're all back now in their holes. One I broke the neck of as it ran past me ... See? There!" And he pointed a gaunt finger. Bensington was too astonished for conversation ... The lamps seemed an interminable time in coming.
The man who had run away met them full tilt he had dropped his gun. "Hullo," said Cossar, and caught him in his arms. "What's this?" "They came out together," said the man. "The rats?" "Yes, six of them." "Where's Flack?" "Down." "What's he say?" panted Bensington, coming up, unheeded. "Flack's down?" "He fell down." "They came out one after the other." "What?" "Made a rush.
When in the work of destruction he wielded an axe the bravest fled his neighbourhood. Afterwards he was a little sobered by the temporary loss of his spectacles, which were found for him at last in his side coat-pocket. Men went to and fro about him grimy, energetic men. Cossar moved amongst them like a god.
Then two of the men hacked through several of the main stems of the canary creeper huge cylinders they were, a couple of feet in diameter, that came out by the sink at the back; and while Cossar set the house in order for the night, Bensington, Redwood, and one of the assistant electricians went cautiously round by the fowl runs in search of the rat-holes.
The popular papers would tell of the three sons of Cossar, and how these amazing children would lift great cannons, hurl masses of iron for hundreds of yards, and leap two hundred feet. They were said to be digging a well, deeper than any well or mine that man had ever made, seeking, it was said, for treasures hidden in the earth since ever the earth began.
Cossar, of whom I told you: he too has thought of that." "They are very little and weak." "In their way. But you know all the means of death are in their hands, and made for their hands. For hundreds of thousands of years these little people, whose world we invade, have been learning how to kill one another. They are very able at that. They are able in many ways.
"This your stuff?" asked Cossar, waving the paper. "Well, why don't you stop it?" he demanded. "Can't be jiggered!" said Cossar. "Buy the place?" he cried. "What nonsense! Burn it! I knew you chaps would fumble this. What are you to do? Why what I tell you. "You? Do? Why! Go up the street to the gunsmith's, of course. Why? For guns. Yes there's only one shop. Get eight guns! Rifles.
He vanished with a slam of the door. Bensington was left to his own initiative again. It took him under the bed. There presently he was found by Cossar. Bensington was almost comatose with terror when he was found, for Cossar had burst the door in with his shoulder by jumping at it across the breadth of the passage. "Come out of it, Bensington," he said. "It's all right. It's me.
The exertion of dragging the seven dead rats to the funeral pyre by the nettle grove left him bathed in perspiration, and Cossar pointed out the obvious physical reaction of whisky to save him from the otherwise inevitable chill.
Perfectly simple. What's the trouble?" He paused to guide Redwood to some steps. "Yes," said Redwood. "but one feels " He left his sentence incomplete. "That is what Death is for." He heard Cossar below him insisting, "How else could the thing be done? That is what Death is for."
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