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He felt a touch at his elbow, and Cossar was holding a chair for him a queer fragment of doll's furniture amidst these piled immensities. He sat down and crossed his legs, and then put one across the knee of the other, and clutched his boot nervously, and felt small and self-conscious and acutely visible and absurdly placed. Then at the sound of a voice he forgot himself again.
Cossar was on all fours with two guns, one trailing on each side from a string under his chin, and his most trusted assistant, a little dark man with a grave face, was to go in stooping behind him, holding a lantern over his head. Everything had been made as sane and obvious and proper as a lunatic's dream. The wool, it seems, was on account of the concussion of the rifle; the man had some too.
They snatched their guns from the corner of the Skinners' living-room, and then every one was running. Cossar came after them with heavy strides.... Then they were standing looking back at the Experimental Farm. It was boiling up; the smoke and flames poured out like a crowd in a panic, from doors and windows and from a thousand cracks and crevices in the roof. Trust Cossar to build a fire!
We are going on making the Food. Cossar also. We're only just in the dawn of the beginning, Redwood. It's evident all sorts of things are to follow. Monstrous great things. But I can't imagine them, Redwood. Except " He scanned his finger nails. He looked up at Redwood with eyes bland through his glasses. "I've half a mind," he adventured, "that Caterham is right. At times.
Cossar had come down to see the mischief his children had done, and reproved them severely and laughed enormously and seemed to be extremely happy over the affair. "You boys must wait a bit," he shouted up to them, "before you can do things like that." "The lawyer told us we must begin by preparing a scheme, and getting special powers and all sorts of rot. Said it would take us years."
Winkles, very profoundly, and walked to the hearth-rug. "Hm. But Here's the point. Ought you?" "Ought we what?" "Ought you to publish?" "We're not in the Middle Ages," said Redwood. "I know." "As Cossar says, swapping wisdom that's the true scientific method." "In most cases, certainly. But This is exceptional."
"He ran past the nettles and fell down," volunteered the man who ran away. "Where?" "Round about there." "Where did he fall?" He hesitated and led them athwart the long black shadows for a space and turned judicially. "About here, I think." "Well, he's not here now." "But his gun ?" "Confound it!" swore Cossar, "where's everything got to?"
The hillside above the black point-lace of the pine shadows seemed as bright as day and as colourless as snow. The setting plaster in the holes positively shone. Cossar's loose framework moved towards them. "So far " said Cossar. Crack bang! A shot from near the house and then stillness. "What's that?" said Bensington. "One of the rats put its head out," suggested one of the men.
Redwood stood up and gave a vague shout by way of answer, and then Cossar was in the road beside him, gripping both hands with both of his and pulling him out of the car. "What of my son?" asked Redwood. "He's all right," said Cossar. "They've hurt nothing serious in him." "And your lads?" "Well. All of them, well. But we've had to make a fight for it."
There was a sort of brigand's supper in the old bricked kitchen, with the row of dead rats lying in the moonlight against the hen-runs outside, and after thirty minutes or so of rest, Cossar roused them all to the labours that were still to do. "Obviously," as he said, they had to "wipe the place out. No litter no scandal. See?" He stirred them up to the idea of making destruction complete.
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