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Updated: May 23, 2025
Do you mean to just grizzle and obstruct passively and do nothing till the sands are out?" He stopped short and turned about. "Look at that grove of nettles there. In the midst of them are homes deserted where once clean families of simple men played out their honest lives! "And there!" he swung round to where the young Cossars muttered to one another of their wrongs. "Look at them!
"My Gawd!" said the man from prison again, as the darkness closed about them. "Why! that chap was as 'igh as a 'ouse." "That's them young Cossars," said his brother, jerking his head allusively "what all this trouble's about...." They emerged again to discover more siren-surmounted towers, more red huts, and then the clustering villas of the outer suburbs.
"What I want to know," said the pale young man in the tea shop, "is why we aren't getting any news of the young Cossars. You'd think they'd be in it most of all ..." "They tell me there's another of them young giants got loose," said the barmaid, wiping out a glass. "I've always said they was dangerous things to 'ave about. Right away from the beginning ... It ought to be put a stop to.
We may find some quality of blundering stupidity in the Cossars and in young Redwood, they were too prejudiced by their physical scale; but the simple Caddles, born of peasant parents, uneducated and set to work in a chalk quarry, is the true enquirer. He walked up to London to solve his problem, and his fundamental question: "What's it all for?" remained unanswered.
He saw the oblong space to its full extent, with the great engines of warfare ranged ready to hand. Beyond, and at a higher level, the house of the Cossars stood. About him were the young giants, huge and beautiful, glittering in their mail, amidst the preparations for the morrow. The sight of them lifted his heart. They were so easily powerful! They were so tall and gracious!
"That's the Cossars!" The eyes of the released prisoner followed the finger's direction and saw "My Gawd!" he cried, for the first time really overcome with amazement. The paper dropped into final forgottenness between his feet.
He looked about him as if he feared to see the little people coming as he spoke. And then: "It may mean death." "Now tell me," she said. "They tried to stop my coming." "How?" "And as I came out of my workshop where I make the Food of the Gods for the Cossars to store in their camp, I found a little officer of police a man in blue with white clean gloves who beckoned me to stop.
The change of scale, however, so long as it was changing, presents in another metaphor the old contrasts. The young giants, the Cossars and Redwood, looking down on common humanity from a vantage-point some thirty to forty feet higher than the "little people," are critical by force of circumstances; and they are at the same time handicapped by an inability to comprehend the thing criticised.
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