He stopped in confusion, started to go downhill – The string all too easily went that way! He immediately stopped again.
Too tired and muddled, he didn’t even try to work it out. Instead, he reverted to pulling the string the hard way, up towards his home. The rope passed over-head, going down the other way, but as he struggled to pull the biting string up the gully, he didn’t notice. If it weren’t for the pain of the string cutting into him, he would have noticed also that the rope was in fact getting much easier to pull.
When he got to the ironing board again, he saw the rope was still stretched above him going all the way down. Desperately before anything could happen, he tied the string to the ironing board so that he could sit. He needed a break to lick his wounds, and a long time just to think.
Eventually his mood improved. In fact, he became immensely pleased because whatever he had done, it had to be progress. He felt ready for the next problem, which was to get enough rope to the ironing board. Quite a lot of it. Enough to tie round the board.
As it was, the rope now rose from the coil on the ground, up, over the branch, went way over his head and down to the bush. He just had to get enough of it to the board without it flying back up like the string did. The problem seemed simple. Instead of it going down to the bushes, he wanted it to drop down onto the ironing board with enough of it to make the tie. But he knew the rope wanted nothing more than to rush back all the way home to the coil on the ground. The string was holding it from doing that. This was the good part.
But the bush was pulling the rope away from the ironing board. Bad. Remove the bush and it would fly back up again and come off the branch the way the string had.. So the bush was both good and bad. What to do? String, rope, bush. Lots of string, yes. Lots of rope, yes. Bush. More bush or less bush? Move the bush to the ironing board? His head was spinning with the effort of trying to figure it out. It was as if the parts of the problem were each taking his attention, so he couldn’t see what the problem was.
No idea came. Sleep came.
52 LOOPING THE LOOP
Waking from his doze, he got up and found the two squirrels staring at him.
“Problem?” asked Stint.
“Yes,” he replied. “I want the rope here. At this thing.” He bumped the ironing board with his hip.
Long pause. The two squirrels repeatedly looked at each other, the rope, the ironing board and the string, almost as if having a conversation. They didn’t ask or say anything. Eventually Stert spoke.
“No problem.”
All three looked at each other. Nobody spoke.
“Hm?” Stump enquired. That didn’t work so he raised his eyebrows.
The squirrels still didn’t answer. But Stert bounded over to the string at the ball on the stake. He picked up the new end from the ball and took it with him as he went for the tree. Stump ran to do his bouncing thing with the bushes again as the string unwound behind Stert, snagging here and there.
Stert took the line up the tree, along the branch, and then all the way down the sloping rope to the end at the bush. There he waited. Stump went down to him. Stert presented the string end. It was within easy reach. Stump didn’t take it. After all, he already had a line of string from the rope’s end back to the board. He needed something else but didn’t know what. He studied the ironing board and the branch above it. The rope passed there. Then he understood. He took the end of the offered string, then asked Stert to go back up near the branch, while he took the new string back to the ironing board. Once there, he called up,
“Can you tie it up there?”
Stert looked blank.
He asked Stint, “Can he tie the string up there?”
Stint looked blank.
“To the rope. Can he tie the string to the rope? Just there? He pulled more string down and it came, passing Stert as it did so. “Can he tie it to the rope?”
“Why?”
“Then I pull the rope down to here. With the string.”
Stint looked down towards the far end of the rope in the bushes.
“No, not the far end. I don’t want that end here. I want that rope from up there. I want to bring that part of the rope up there down to here.” He stood looking up directly under it and Stert.
“What?” Said Stint.
“Can you tie that string up there to the rope just there?”
Again the familiar long pause. Stint and Stert looked at the rope and each other as they had before.
Stint said, “Yes.”
Stump looked at Stint, not expecting further comment. Sure enough, Stint went to climb the tree. Stump also assumed the squirrels would do the same tie-round knot as his own knot at the end of the rope. But then he realised this was quite different. There was no rope end – and no string end. How could anyone do anything in the middle of the rope and only the middle of a piece of string?
As Stint climbed, Monty watched Stert look over the side of the rope, then go and peer over the other side. Stert pulled the string, let it go. He repeated all of that a couple of times. Nothing came of that. Monty had no better idea to offer. Stint arrive. He repeated everything that Stert had done, then retraced his steps to examine a gnarl in the branch. Nothing doing. He came back and pulled up string. made a loop and let go. They both did that. And again.
They certainly like the loop, thought Monty. Then he couldn’t see them and worried. You can’t do much with a loop if you have nothing to put it over or hang it on. You could change the loop, but the problem is the same.
With no clue himself, he had no idea how they could possibly come up with anything. Getting seriously worried about the two of them up there, he became pessimistic. It was wrong to give them an impossible task like that. It would be a disaster if they couldn’t do it. He’d be stuck with an even worse mess with all the rope and string everywhere. He saw a bigger disaster coming and got even more worried. They would end up convinced he only got them out of their woods to -
What now? A very long loop dangled down on one side. Then they were curling some of it round and up the other side. Then he couldn’t see what they did.
But where would that get them? There was nothing up there for a loop to do... What can a loop do? On its own? Nothing.
It looked as if his pessimism was well founded. Lots of string round the rope.
But what had they got? A tangle of loops? And they’re getting so animated. Just tangle and argument? Not a good combination. This is not at all good.
The louder they got, the more he was convinced it was anger. Stump had an awful feeling they were angry at him. That would explain a lot. they were obviously not succeeding, which meant at any minute they would just chuck it in and run off. And if they did that, they would either never speak to him again, or demand to be taken back home.
One of the squirrels headed his way down.
That proves it. Stint’s coming down! They’ve had enough. I knew it. Stump saw the end coming. Yup, the end of all hope about ropes – Oh, forget the ropes - this will mean the end of any friendship. Worse, they’ll think this was the only reason I dragged them here. And they’d be right, really. It was always a fair bet they’d want to be taken back, I suppose. Here he comes. This will be a very unpleasant scene indeed.
He wanted to close his eyes and wait for the execution or sentence or whatever from Stint. It would be the dressing down no doubt he deserved for being so selfish. Monty kept his eyes on the ironing board and fiddled with the string knotted there as if busy with a problem. But hearing Stint reach the ground he decided it would be best to try and blunt the coming tirade by apologising first. He turned and opened his mouth - but Stint had run off down the path.
What did that mean? Up top was a lot of string going around the rope and no sign of Stert, and no sound either. Had Stert left already?
Must have shot off up the tree. But what’s Stint doing?
Montague Stump sat in a sort of daze with no idea what was happening or what on earth he should do.
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br /> Finally, Stint reappeared with a bent looking piece of stick. Stump thought of offering to help, but up the tree? What could he do? He fiddled with the ironing board again, not daring to look.
Awkwardly as much as skilfully, Stint got the stick to the tree, took it up, then carried it all the way out to the string. More arguments - or what sounded like arguments. So Stert was still there. Whatever they were doing it seemed to be causing a lot of stress. Or anger. Whatever it was, it surely could not be leading to anything like success.
Suddenly there was quiet. What now? Monty watched Stert run off along the branch and vanish up the tree.
So he’s definitely chucked it in. OK, so they’ve given up. Monty sat down again. He knew they couldn’t do it. But Stint was still there.
Doing what? Sulking? Stewing? Working up a speech for me? That would be right. Those elders are all the same. Nothing but disguised preacher-types, really.
It seemed a long time of nothing happening.
What on earth is Stint doing? He had to be still there. This does not bode well. Not at all. Stump stood up. The whole place was like a work site. Rope going up, more rope piled on the ground, dangling string, more going off down to hold the end of the rope - and having to duck under that just to get home – either that or climb over the ironing board.
Not a pleasing sight. Not pleasing at all. That wretched ironing board stuck there. The whole place is a disaster. His eye followed the rope up to the branch to find Stint staring at him. Here it comes. He expected at least the stick to come at him. They stared at each other for a long moment.
Then Stint said “Yes”, glared a bit more, withdrew his head, went off along the branch and was gone, up the tree, same as Stert. That was that, apparently.
The dangling length of string was shorter than it was after all that the squirrels had taken up there and used. It wafted about in a slight breeze as if teasing him.
What with a stick somewhere up there waiting to fall, he thought, staring angrily at the string, And this? That’s all I need! He swatted the string, achieving nothing.
53 THE SQUIRREL KNOT
Up on the rope above the ironing board, when he was told to tie the string to the rope, from Stert’s point of view the instruction had seemed simple enough. After all, the string lay across the rope obediently waiting for him. However, when he looked for an end, there wasn’t one. How could you tie a string that had no end to a rope that also had no end? He felt he faced a question that was some sort of conundrum. Surely, if you had no end, you had no beginning?
No matter how hopefully he darted back and forth, peering over this side and then over that side, and whether he pulled at the string or not, he just didn’t know what to do. Mercifully, Stint turned up.
Stint did all the things Stert had done, which wasn’t much. Then he circled under the rope one way, then the other way. He went back towards the tree where the rope was hooked on the branch. That didn’t tell him anything. He came back and lifted some string. Then he hauled more. This gave him a loop behind him. He stopped hauling, let go and the loop promptly whizzed back down again. He saw the dangers of standing inside such a loop.
He pulled it up again. This time he took up more string. The same thing happened. Then he pulled up a lot more. This time when he let go, the much bigger loop stayed hanging down behind him. He went and looked at it. It was at least different. Now there was string to play with. He said nothing, but felt pleased.
Stert, possibly reading Stint’s mind, suddenly had an idea and took over. He disappeared down the opposite side to the hanging loop, circled under the rope, took hold of one side of the loop and backed up to the top again, bringing that side of the loop with him. This created a loop on top of the rope. But having done that, he didn’t know what to do with it and looked at Stint for inspiration.
What to do now? Stint looked at Stert holding his loop and had no idea what to do. He sensed it could take any amount of time to either solve the whole problem or to conclude it couldn’t be done, and he didn’t have that kind of time. He was suddenly tired of it all. As The Elder, he needed a quick solution so as to get back to his people. This problem is more difficult than I thought. But I couldn’t just leave it. Or can I? No. Better not. Wouldn’t look good to the fox or my people. He put away the thought of his people to concentrate on the string problem. Stert was stuck there holding a loop. And that loop had come from...
Stint went over the rope opposite to the way Stert had gone, and he brought up more string and made another loop. It seemed the right thing to do, but now he, too, was stuck holding a loop. I’ve missed something. Not good. This is going to take far too long. The muddle he was in made him panic about his people again. They couldn’t be left alone for so long. Especially in this new place.
The problem is the same two troublemakers. Always trying to undermine my efforts. What I really want is some way to undermine them. Really get under them. He was shoving and feeding his loop under Stert’s loop.
Really give them a dose of their own medicine. He worked out his frustration by pushing more of his loop through. When that didn’t work, he sat on Stert and pulled. He continued pulling angrily at his loop until the string stopped. When that happened, he got off Stert and seemed to wonder what he had done. Stert was looking expectantly at him. This made him even more frustrated. Enough with the fox and his string.
“Enough of this,” he said. “Just put everything down and go. Where can I lose this?” He realised Stert too was now stuck holding a loop. No? Stert was not holding a loop. In fact, Stert wasn’t doing anything. Why not? This was becoming a nightmare. The problem was up top! Up the tree, not down here with this, with this game.
“Stert! Why are you not...? Never mind. Hold that.” He gave Stert his loop. Stert took it and again looked at him expectantly.
Stint eyed what they had achieved, not really seeing it. He was so frustrated. He looked up into the big tree as if trying to see signs of life.
“We have to go.” Stint said, keeping his calm. He explained to Stert as if talking to a child. “Enough of this. I have to consider the needs of our people. Maybe we can come back later if the fox wants more. Enough of this now.”
“What?” Said Stert, alarmed.
Stert’s alarm made Stint really look at him. Stert was sitting holding Stint’s loop with his feet braced against the earlier loop. He was even comfortable. It looked... easy? Something... The way Stert was sitting? Stint felt tantalisingly close to a solution but was not sure what or how. Or more importantly, how long it would take to -
“Are we going to leave it like this?” asked Stert.
“That’s all we can do, yes. No! Stert, just stick it somewhere – can you just stick it under somewhere.”
Stert asked, “Stick?”
“Just shove it....” Long pause, then, “What?” So close...
“Are we going to leave –?"
“No, no. What did you say? After that. What did you say?”
“Um...” Said Stert, “I thought you said ‘stick’?”
Another pause.
“Brilliant! Stay there!” Stint bounded off the rope, along the branch, and was down the tree, foraging in the undergrowth in no time.
Stert stayed, at least comfortable, but stuck.
After a while, Stint was back, having managed to manoeuvre a rather bent looking stick all the way from near Stump’s rubbish tip. It had taken a lot of wrestling to get it through the bushes. He was exhausted and feeling he had run out of time. He was also very cranky.
Stert had gone to sleep but was jolted awake by Stint unwittingly whacking him on the head with the bent stick. He gave a startled “Oi!”
“Don’t you ‘Oi!’ me!” Stint said angrily, ramming Stert in the stomach with the stick, “Do something with that end! Through this last loop.” He directed, then added, “And be quick. I’ve had enough!”
Stert was now rattled as well. Their anger gave them both added strength. They got an end of the
stick through the final loop easily enough, but it was a noisy fight to get the stick centred in the loop. Then they stopped. Gradually letting go of everything, they watched the string tighten. The stick was across all the other strings but trapped there by the one loop round it. And the stick was preventing that final loop from going anywhere.
THE SQUIRREL KNOT
They stood back. The whole arrangement was loose, but holding. They stared at it, totally exhausted. Or, at least, Stint was. They had achieved a knot? Good or bad, whatever it was, it would have to do. Stint flicked a look to Stert,
“Go.” He said. “Everybody. Top branch. I’ll be there.” And Stert went bounding off, disappearing up the tree.
54 THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS
After Stert had gone, Stint sat back as if studying the knot, but he was actually putting quite different thoughts together. As the leader of his little clan, he saw the fox down below now as part of his problem. It would be best if everybody kept away from him for a long time. That might not be possible since he was right underneath them. But rather than anybody getting drawn into fox problems, it was far more important that his little band solved their own problems.
The fox was undoubtedly a fine character in his own way, but he had really turned up at a very difficult time. Either that, or the fellow had certainly managed to turn up in the middle of nowhere and highlight his own problems as Elder. Instead of just occasionally wondering if he might be the last Elder they would ever have, the fox had brought the survival of everybody to the front and centre.
Presumably the fox would always be down there. The important question was where they would be. From that point of view, Nurse Slip was right. The whole thing really did depend on the young. Without young, there was no future. So it could rightly be said that not looking to the future was what had been dragging everyone for a long time. And that has been the argument of my detractors all along, when they accuse me of insisting we have to find the fabled land that we lost in the past.
A Tour de Fate Page 15