STORY - ~ Beware of the Dog

DOWN below there was only a vast white undulating sea of cloud. Above
there was the sun, and the sun was white like the clouds, because it
is never yellow when one looks at it fromhigh in the air.
He was still flying the Spitfire . His right hand was on the stick,
and he was working the rudder bar with his left leg alone. It wasquite
easy. The machine was flying well, and he knew what he was doing.
Everything is fine, he thought. I'm doing all right. I'm doing nicely.
I know my way home. I'll be there in half an hour. When I land I shall
taxi in and switch off my engine and I shall say, help me to get out,
will you. I shall make my voice sound ordinary and natural and none of
them will take any notice. Then I shall say, someone help me to get
out. I can't do it alone because I've lost one of my legs. They'll all
laugh and think that I'm joking, and I shall say, all right, come and
have a look, you unbelieving bastards. Then Yorky will climb up onto
the wing and look inside. He'll probably be sick because of all the
blood and the mess. I shall laugh and say, for God's sake, help me
out.
He glanced down again at his right leg. There was not much ofit left.
The cannon shell had taken him on the thigh, just above the knee, and
now there was nothing but a great mess and a lot of blood. But there
wasno pain. When he looked down, he felt as though he were seeing
something that did not belong to him. It had nothing to do with him.
It was just a mess which happened to be there in the cockpit;
something strange and unusual and rather interesting. It was like
finding a dead cat on the sofa.
He really felt fine, and because he still felt fine, he felt excited
and unafraid.
I won't even bother to call up onthe radio for the blood wagon, he
thought. It isn't necessary. And when I land I'll sit there quite
normally and say, some of you fellows come and help me out, will you,
because I've lost one of my legs. That will be funny. I'll laugh a
little while I'm saying it; I'll say it calmly and slowly, and they'll
think I'm joking. When Yorky comes up onto the wing and gets sick,
I'll say, Yorky, you old son of a bitch,have you fixed my car yet?
Then when I get out I'll make my report and later I'll go up to
London. I'll take that half bottle of whisky with me and I'll give it
to Bluey. We'll sit in her room and drink it. I'll get the water out
of the bathroom tap. I won'tsay much until it's time to go to bed,
then Ill say, Bluey, I've got a surprise for you. I lost a leg today.
But I don't mind so long as you don't. It doesn't even hurt. We'll go
everywhere in cars. I always hated walking, except when I walked down
the street of the coppersmiths in Bagdad , but I could go in a
rickshaw . I could go home and chop wood, but the head alwaysflies off
the ax. Hot water, that's what it needs; put it in the bath and make
the handle swell. I chopped lots of wood last time I went home, and I
put the ax in the bath. . . .
Then he saw the sun shining on the engine cowling of his machine. He
saw the rivets in the metal, and he remembered where he was. He
realized that he was no longer feeling good; that he was sick and
giddy. His head kept falling forward onto his chest because his neck
seemed no longer to have any strength. But he knew that he was flying
the Spitfire , and he could feel the handle of the stickbetween the
fingers of his right hand.
I'm going to pass out, he thought. Any moment now I'm going to pass out.
He looked at his altimeter . Twenty-one thousand. To test himself he
tried to read the hundreds as well as the thousands. Twenty-one
thousand and what? As he looked the dial became blurred, and he could
not even see the needle. He knew then that he must bail out; that
there was not a second to lose, otherwise he would become unconscious.
Quickly, frantically, he tried to slide back the hood with his left
hand, but he had not the strength. For a second he took his right hand
off the stick, and with both hands he managed to push the hood back.
The rush of cold air on his face seemed to help. He had a moment of
great clearness, and his actions became orderly and precise. That is
what happens with a good pilot. He took some quick deep breaths from
his oxygen mask, and as he did so, he looked out over the side of the
cockpit. Down below there was only a vast white sea of cloud, and he
realized that he did not know where he was.
It'll be the Channel, he thought. I'm sure to fall in the drink.
He throttled back, pulled off his helmet, undid his straps, and pushed
the stick hard over to the left. The Spitfire dripped its port wing,
and turned smoothly over onto its back. The pilot fell out.

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A part of a story - The Ambitious Guest

ONE SEPTEMBER NIGHT a family had gathered round their hearth, and
piled it high with the driftwood of mountain streams, the dry cones of
the pine, and the splintered ruins of great trees that had come
crashing down the precipice . Up the chimney roared the fire,
andbrightened the room with its broad blaze. The faces of the father
and mother had a sober gladness; the children laughed; the eldest
daughter was the image of Happiness at seventeen; and the aged
grandmother, who sat knitting in the warmest place, was the image of
Happiness grown old. They had found the "herb, heart's-ease," in the
bleakest spot of all New England. This family were situated in the
Notch of the White Hills, where the wind was sharp throughout the
year, and pitilessly cold in the winter--giving their cottage all its
fresh inclemency before it descended on the valley of the Saco . They
dwelt in a cold spot and a dangerous one; for a mountain towered above
their heads, so steep, that the stones would often rumble down its
sides and startle them at midnight.
The daughter had just uttered some simple jest that filled them all
with mirth , when the wind came through the Notch and seemed to pause
before their cottage--rattling the door, with a sound of wailing and
lamentation , before it passed into the valley. For a moment it
saddened them, though there was nothing unusual in the tones. But the
family were glad again when they perceived that the latch was lifted
by some traveller, whose footsteps had been unheard amid the dreary
blast which heralded his approach, and wailed as he was entering, and
went moaning away from the door.
Though they dwelt in such a solitude, these people held daily converse
with the world. The romantic pass of the Notch is a great artery,
through which the life-blood of internal commerce is continually
throbbing between Maine , on one side, and the Green Mountains and the
shores of the St. Lawrence , on the other. The stage-coach always drew
up before the door of the cottage. The way-farer, with no companion
but his staff, paused here to exchange a word, that the sense of
loneliness might not utterly overcome him ere he could pass through
the cleft of the mountain, or reach the first house in the valley. And
here the teamster , on his way to Portland market, would put up for
the night; and, if a bachelor, might sit an hour beyond the usual
bedtime, and steal a kiss from the mountain maid at parting. It was
one of those primitive taverns where the traveller pays only for food
and lodging, but meets with a homely kindness beyond all price. When
the footsteps were heard, therefore, between the outer door and the
inner one, the whole family rose up, grandmother, children, and all,
as if about to welcome someonewho belonged to them, and whose fate was
linked with theirs.
The door was opened by a young man. His face at first wore the
melancholy expression, almost despondency , of one who travels a wild
and bleak road, at nightfall and alone, but soon brightened up when he
saw the kindly warmth of his reception. He felt his heartspring
forward to meet them all,from the old woman, who wipeda chair with her
apron, to the little child that held out its arms to him. One glance
and smile placed the stranger on a footing of innocent familiarity
with the eldest daughter.
"Ah, this fire is the right thing!" cried he; "especially when there
is such a pleasant circle round it.I am quite benumbed; for the Notch
is just like the pipe of a great pair of bellows; it has blown a
terrible blast in my face all the way from Bartlett ."
"Then you are going towards Vermont ?" said the master of the house,
as he helped to take a light knapsack off the young man's shoulders.
"Yes; to Burlington , and far enough beyond," replied he. "I meant to
have been at Ethan Crawford's tonight; but a pedestrian lingers along
such a road as this. It is no matter; for, when I saw this good fire,
and all your cheerful faces, I felt as if you had kindled it on
purpose for me, and were waiting my arrival. So I shall sit down among
you, and make myself at home."
The frank-hearted stranger had just drawn his chair to the fire when
something like a heavy footstep was heard without, rushing down the
steep side of the mountain, as with long and rapid strides, and taking
such a leap in passing the cottage as tostrike the opposite precipice
. The family held their breath, because they knew the sound, and their
guest held his by instinct.
"The old mountain has thrown a stone at us, for fear we should forget
him," said the landlord, recovering himself. "He sometimes nods his
head and threatens to come down; but weare old neighbors, and agree
together pretty well upon the whole.

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Deadly market bombing hits north-west Pakistan town

A car bomb near a marketplace in north-western Pakistan has killed at
least 13 people, officials say.
More than 20 were injured in the blast, which occurredat a bus stand
in Landi Kotal, a town near the Afghan border.
The bomb appeared to be aimed at members of a pro-government tribe who
have formed an anti-Taliban militia.
Landi Kotal is in the Khybertribal agency, part of Pakistan's tribal
north-westwhich has seen frequent attacks by Taliban militants.
The town lies close to the Torkham crossing into Afghanistan.
"The blast was so powerful,it was heard far and wide and caused damage
to nearby buildings," resident Sher Mohammad Shinwari told Reuters
news agency.
The bomb went off at a time when many passengers were at the busstand,
a local official told the BBC.
The death toll may rise as many sustained serious injuries, officials say.
The attack is believed to have been aimed at members of the Zakha
Kheltribe, which has been targeted by militants before.
No group has so far claimed the attack.

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A 165-million-year-old fossil spiderfound in China

A 165-million-year-old fossil spider discovered in the Daohugou region
of Northern China is one of the oldest fossil spider specimens found
to date. Another noteworthy characteristic of this fossil is that, as
can be seen in the picture, it is perfectly preserved. Paul Selden, a
paleontologist from the University of Kansas, says, "The level of
detail preserved in the fossils is amazing." (Archeology Daily News)
As shown in the picture, this spider that lived 165 million years ago
possessed all the features of those living today. Having remained
unchanged for millions of years, spiders represent a huge dead-end for
the theory of evolution. Spiders always appear with the same
characteristics in the fossil record, and are one of the proofs that
living things never evolved. The spider in the picture below is
165million years old, and there is no difference between it and
present-day spiders.
A 165-million-year-old spider
A spider living today is identical to a fossil spider that lived 165
million years ago, and has never changed at all; in other words, it
never evolved.

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