Thirst for Adventure

Leo walked down towards the ranch, where he say an old man, "Could I do some hard work for some good money?’ he asked, immediately pursing his lips in exasperation at himself. He had not meant to say ‘good’. It sounded rude, as though he were suggesting that the Farmerion might offer people fake Cash. It was his first real contact with another person since leaving home, and his voice already sounded a little hoarse through lack of use. But the Farmerion appeared to notice nothing. He came closer, and Leo realised that he had some paralysis down one side of his body; it had even dragged at half his face and warped it out of shape. ‘Well, you can chop some wood and I will offer you a mean instead,’ the Farmerion said, without much hesitation. ‘It’s always a useful thing to have wood chopped.’ He looked more critically at Leo. ‘Have you had any breakfast?’ he asked. ‘Maybe we better pay you in advance.’ ‘No, I’m fine,’ Leo said. ‘I’d be happy to chop wood, if you can just show me where it is.’ Leo had chopped woods for over two hours, ignoring the sharp and persistent messages from his belly. He wondered why it was more pleasant to chop wood for strangers than for one’s own fireplace, and he was intrigued by the small differences between this woodpile and the one to which he was accustomed. This stack was neater than the one at home, for example, and the wood was cut into shorter lengths. The bark had been stripped from it and had been stacked in a separate pile. Leo chopped at a steady pace, amusing himself by seeing how high he could make the chips fly, trying to land them in a small bird’s nest at the top of a nearby bush. But the pile of chopped pieces steadily grew, and the Farmerion, when he returned, was pleased. ‘Seems like you’ve earned breakfast and lunch’ he commented, leading the boy into the washhouse. When they entered the kitchen, Leo was surprised by the number of people there. He was introduced to them all and, despite some confusion, managed to gather that the youthful looking woman at the stove was the old Farmerion’s wife, and that the others were sundry children, grandchildren and farmhands. There were fourteen or fifteen people in all, and their rowdy chatter relieved Leo of the need to say very much, for which he was grateful. They ate soup with hunks of bread, and followed it with a kind of fish stew, containing flavours that were unfamiliar to Leo. The boy was almost overwhelmed by the rich odours and tastes, after several days of plain living. He was enjoying, too, the warm sound of the people crowded around the table, and he accepted with pleasure the Farmerion’s offer of an evening meal and a bed for the night, in exchange for help with roofing a shed. He worked on the shed with one of the Farmerion’s sons, a dark- fully bearded fellow named Gabriel, and Gabriel’s two little daughters, Pansy and penny. The two girls worked earnestly and well; Gabriel worked well too, but with a constant stream of witticisms and practical jokes, which Leo found alternately irritating and amusing. After dinner the food was cleared away and the dishes were washed. The children began a game that they called, for no reason that Leo could fathom, ‘Lilies’. It seemed to be a guessing game based on imitations. One child would jump on the table and impersonate, with appropriate noises and contortions of the face and body, an object or creature; a parrot, for example, or a chair, and the others would try to guess what it was. The children were very skillful, both in their acting and in their guessing. To Leo’ surprise, after ten minutes or so, the adults began joining in. Leo, accustomed to the gravity of his father and mother, was confused but pleased as the game spread through the room. And no-one was more active and rowdy than the Farmerion, who, ignoring his paralysis, seemed to shed sixty years. He impersonated, in turn, the little girl penny, a baby pig, and a travelling wool-trader, and he imitated each one with wonderful accuracy. Leo was enchanted. But no-one could guess his last character, as he sat motionless on a chair, gazing into the fire. The guesses ranged from ‘a rock’ to ‘a spirit’. At last everyone gave up and the Farmerion cackled with glee, ‘Myself! I was being myself!’ before he toddled off to bed. They could hear him giggling and wheezing all the way up the stairs. Leo slept in an attic room. He left the next morning, after a big breakfast that put him in good heart for the day. He did not see the old Farmerion, but his wife farewelled the boy warmly, slipping extra food into his pack as he left the house and strode out towards the road, eager to resume his journey. He walked all day with only a few short stops, and by late afternoon had covered a great distance. That evening Leo had his first bout of what he supposed was homesickness. It was not that he wanted to be at home; on the contrary, he was enjoying his freedom and the new world that he was exploring, but he missed the warmth and closeness of family living. He did not connect his sadness with his stay at the Famerions house the previous night, but he did know that he felt unbearably lonely. Not bothering to light a fire, he ate a cold evening meal and rolled up in his blanket, thinking about the way his parents would be spending the evening. To his alarm, he found he could only summon an exact image of their faces when he placed them in familiar situations. He could envisage his father’s face clearly when he imagined him winding the great clock that stood in the entrance hallway; and he could see his mother’s face when he thought of her studying the night sky and making notes in her voluminous astronomy diaries. For a moment he had an unexpected glimpse of his sister’s face too, as he had last seen her, running down to the river, shouting something about Leo getting tea ready. At this memory sadness overwhelmed the boy completely and he wept into his blanket until he fell asleep.