GRIGIA
23
spine, the hind legs, and the curving tail made them seem like a
scattering of treble signs.
There was plenty of incident. For instance, a man might break
his leg, and two others would carry him into camp on their crossed
arms. Or suddenly the shout of: "Take co-ver! " would ring out, and
everyone would run for cover because a great rock was being dy–
namited for the building of the road. Once, at such a moment, a
shower swept a few flickers of moisture over the grass. In the shelter
of a bush on the far side of the stream there was a fire burning,
forgotten in the excitement, though only a few minutes earlier it had
been very important: standing near it, the only watcher left, was a
young birch tree. And still dangling by one leg from this birch was
the black pig. The fire, the birch, and the pig were now alone. The
pig had squealed even while one man was merely leading it along on
a rope, talking to it, urging it to come on. Then it squealed all the
10lJder as it saw two other men come delightedly running towards it.
It
was frantic at being seized by the ears and unceremoniously dragged
forward.
It
straddled all four legs in resistance, but the pain in its ears
forced it to make little jumps onward. Finally, at the other end of the
bridge, someone had grabbed a hatchet and struck it on the forehead
with the blade. From that moment on everything went more quietly.
Both forelegs buckled at the same instant, and the little pig did not
scream again until the knife was actually in its throat. There was a
shrieking, twitching blare, which sank down into a death rattle that
was no more than a pathetic snore. All these were things Homo saw
for the first time in his life.
When dusk fell, they all gathered in the little vicarage, where
they had rented a room to serve as their mess. Admittedly the meat,
which came the long way up the mountain only twice a week, was
often going off, and not infrequently one had a touch of food poison–
ing. But still all of them came here as soon as it was dark, stumbling
along the invisible tracks with their little lanterns. For what caused
them more suffering than food poisoning was melancholy and bore–
dom, even though everything was so beautiful. They swilled it away
with wine. After an hour a cloud of sadness and ragtime hung over
the room. The Gramophone went round and round, like a gilded
hurdy-gurdy trundling over a soft meadow spattered with wonderful
stars. They no longer talked to each other. They merely talked. What
