The first time they did this Nunez laughed. But afterwards he
did not laugh.
One struck his trail in the meadow grass and came stooping and
feeling his way along it.
For five minutes he watched the slow extension of the cordon,
and then his vague disposition to do something forthwith became
frantic. He stood up, went a pace or so towards the
circumferential wall, turned, and went back a little way. There
they all stood in a crescent, still and listening.
He also stood still, gripping his spade very tightly in both
hands. Should he charge them?
The pulse in his ears ran into the rhythm of "In the Country
of the Blind the One-Eyed Man is King."
Should he charge them?
He looked back at the high and unclimbable wall
behind--unclimbable because of its smooth plastering, but withal
pierced with many little doors and at the approaching line of
seekers. Behind these others were now coming out of the street of
houses.
Should he charge them?
"Bogota!" called one. "Bogota! where are you?"
He gripped his spade still tighter and advanced down the
meadows towards the place of habitations, and directly he moved
they converged upon him. "I'll hit them if they touch me," he
swore; "by Heaven, I will. I'll hit." He called aloud, "Look
here, I'm going to do what I like in this valley! Do you hear?
I'm going to do what I like and go where I like.
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