“Up here!”
Leaning slightly back in his saddle, Malone looked up. And up, and up, having to squint almost as hard as Worthless. It took a moment for him to spot the man standing where a branch emerged from the mighty trunk some two hundred and fifty feet above the ground. While Malone’s vision was sharp, the distance and intervening verdure made it difficult to distinguish details. What he could see of the caller revealed a man of about Malone’s own age, but smaller and slenderer. Even at that distance it could be seen that he boasted a beard of impressive proportions. One that in length, at least, surpassed Malone’s own equally lush facial undergrowth.
“Let me guess,” Malone shouted upward. “You have conquered this ’ere imposin’ ascent only t’ find you are unable to make your way down again, either by your original route or any other.”
Peering down, the man high up the tree called back emphatically. “Not at all, sir. I am more familiar than most with all manner of trees in these mountains, and would have no difficulty making my way down the imposing bole of this one, save for one entirely unexpected peculiarity.”
Malone pursed his lips. “Perhaps I kin be of assistance. I am by way o’ experience somewhat acquainted with unexpected peculiarities, Mr. …?”
“John,” came down the voice from above. “Call me John. Everyone does. John of the mountains, sometimes.”
“Then I will partake o’ the general verdict, John, and call you thet. If you will instruct me as to the particular peculiarity that prevents you descendin’ from your elevated perch, I will endeavor t’ lend a hand. Most particular, I have to ask… why can’t you come down?”
“This most obstinate and infuriating tree won’t let me.”
“I see.” It was then that Malone’s vision noted the pair of smaller branches that were wrapped respectively around the man’s chest and thighs, pinning him to a trunk that was still impressive in girth even at altitude. He pondered a moment. Worthless glanced back at him, snorted, and bent to masticate pinecones. The consequent crunching, which produced a sound like boots punching through a crust of new-frozen snow, echoed through the forest. “Why not?”
“Och, how should I know?” came the somewhat exasperated voice from on high. The Scottish burr was unmistakable.
“Well now.” Malone scratched at the back of his neck where something small and multilegged was presently attempting to set up residence without paying rent. “Have you tried askin’ the tree?”
A moment’s silence preceded the slowly considered reply. “There are some who say that I am mad, sir, for doing things like climbing trees to experience the full fury of a thunderstorm in the mountains. That was the specific situation that brought me to my present inexplicable condition and finds me trapped here. But know that I am not mad when I say that as soon as I tried to descend, branches of this giant caught me tight round the body and have held me captive here for some hours now.” The speaker paused, then added, “I fear that in addition to increasing thirst and hunger, I am in some desperate need of a change of undergarments.”
Malone nodded to himself. “There be some also t’ say that I am mad, John of the mountains, so it appears we are brothers in insanity. I reiterate: have you tried asking the tree?”
“Many are the birds whose calls I can imitate, and the cry of the bobcat and the warnings of the deer as well,” came the response, “but while I have addressed terms of admiration and endearment to a wide assortment of growths, I have never yet managed to evoke a reply. Nor, I venture, has any human being.”
“A good deal of it, John,” Malone called back, “has t’ do with the accent. Pine is soft and spoken wholly with the lips, birch speech more of a whispering, while cypress talk must first be begun with a growl and a murmur.” Whereupon the mountain man formed his lips, tongue, palate, and epiglottis into such a wholesale confusion of body parts that any physician able to observe the result would have fainted dead away at the sheer impossibility of the biology. When everything physiological was in place, Malone formally addressed the sequoia.
“’Ere now, you great overgrown slab o’ termite grub: what’s behind this discourteous business o’ holdin’ prisoner that poor thirsty, hungry, soiled feller you’ve got caught in your upstairs?”
There issued from the depths of the ancient growth a rumbling so deep, so subsonic, that it would have made the private cursing of the African elephant seem positively falsetto. John up the tree did not hear it… but he felt it. The blue jays hunting beetles in the needle piles did not hear it. Neither did the fish, nor the fox, nor the ants underfoot hear it. Only Malone possessed the learning and the sensitivity to understand the voice that came forth, seemingly formed of the very earth itself.
“HIS PRESENCE… OFFENDS ME.”
Malone pushed the wolf’s-head cap back off his forehead and wiped away sweat. “Wal now, I didn’t know a tree could take offense.”
“YOU ARE, LIKE THE REST OF YOUR KIND, IGNORANT OF THE WORLD AROUND YOU.”
“Hold on there, big twig. I may be many things, but ignorant ain’t one o’ them. If I’m so ignorant, how come I’m talkin’ t’ you right now?”
There was a pause, then, “I CONCEDE THAT YOU MAY BE MARGINALLY LESS UNKNOWING THAN THE REST OF YOUR KIND.”
Malone decided to be satisfied with that. Arguing with an obstinate sequoia would get him nowhere, nor would it provide the captive John with his much-desired change of underwear.
“If you don’t mind my askin’, what precisely about your visitor’s presence offends you so much that you refuse t’ let him down?”
“HE CAME UP WITHOUT ASKING. THAT IS HOW I HAVE SEEN HUMANS TREAT MY KIND. THEY DO WHATEVER THEY DESIRE, WITHOUT ASKING.”
Ever since their arrival in the glade, a pair of brother wolves had been stalking the new arrivals. They were very close now, crouched just behind a thick clump of bushes. Tongues lolling, they charged, aiming for Worthless’s copious hindquarters. Snarling, they leaped with mouths agape and fangs dripping. Malone spared them a brief glance before returning his attention to the sequoia.
Without looking back, Worthless kicked out with his hind right leg. It caught the first wolf under his jaw. The impact caused the unfortunate predator to describe four complete backward somersaults before finally landing in a dense copse of gooseberry from which subsequently only a confused whimpering could be heard. Lunging for a leg, the second wolf found itself pinned beneath an oversized hoof. With Worthless’s weight atop it, it scrabbled frantically at the ground with its paws, fighting for breath, as the horse calmly resumed his methodical devastation of nearby grass, primrose, and bracken fern.
“This John, he strikes me as a good sort o’ feller,” Malone continued. “One who holds nothin’ but the greatest respect fer all Nature, and especially fer trees. I’m sure he’d be happy to apologize fer any imposition.”
“TOO LATE!” the sequoia roared. Upper branches shook while lower branches that were themselves greater in diameter than the surrounding pines and firs trembled ever so slightly. “I HAVE MADE MY DECISION! LET HIS REMAINS BE A LESSON TO ANY WHO SHOULD COME AND TRY TO DO LIKEWISE. I WILL HOLD HIM CLOSE UNTIL WIND AND RAIN AND TIME HAVE REDUCED HIM TO WORM FOOD!”
“Now, now,” murmured Malone soothingly, “turnin’ admirin’ visitors into worm food ain’t very hospitable. There’ll likely be more a-comin’ t’ gape at you and yours, and no matter how many you try to worm-food-ize, ’tis likely you’ll fail to do ’em all.” He gestured with a huge, gnarled hand. “Fer one thing, you’re somewhat handicapped by a noticeable lack o’ digits. You just got lucky when John here decided t’ favor you with a visit.”