We blasted the tree-roots, and, yolking oxen, dragged the debris into a
great heap. Then the men set to work with their spades, and roughly
levelled the ground. I was getting back to my old self, and Jobson's
spirit was becoming mine.
"There is one thing more," I told him "Get ready a couple of ploughs.
We will improve upon King Josiah." My brain was a medley of Scripture
precedents, and I was determined that no safeguard should be wanting.
We yoked the oxen again and drove the ploughs over the site of the
grove. It was rough ploughing, for the place was thick with bits of
stone from the tower, but the slow Afrikaner oxen plodded on, and
sometime in the afternoon the work was finished. Then I sent down to
the farm for bags of rock-salt, such as they use for cattle. Jobson
and I took a sack apiece, and walked up and down the furrows, sowing
them with salt.
The last act was to set fire to the pile of tree trunks. They burned
well, and on the top we flung the bodies of the green doves. The birds
of Ashtaroth had an honourable pyre.
Then I dismissed the much-perplexed men, and gravely shook hands with
Jobson. Black with dust and smoke I went back to the house, where I
bade Travers pack my bags and order the motor. I found Lawson's
servant, and heard from him that his master was sleeping peacefully. I
gave him some directions, and then went to wash and change.
Before I left I wrote a line to Lawson. I began by transcribing the
verses from the 23rd chapter of 2nd Kings. I told him what I had done,
and my reason. "I take the whole responsibility upon myself," I
wrote. "No man in the place had anything to do with it but me. I
acted as I did for the sake of our old friendship, and you will believe
it was no easy task for me. I hope you will understand. Whenever you
are able to see me send me word, and I will come back and settle with
you. But I think you will realise that I have saved your soul."
The afternoon was merging into twilight as I left the house on the road
to Taqui. The great fire, where the Grove had been, was still blazing
fiercely, and the smoke made a cloud over the upper glen, and filled
all the air with a soft violet haze. I knew that I had done well for
my friend, and that he would come to his senses and be grateful. My
mind was at ease on that score, and in something like comfort I faced
the future. But as the car reached the ridge I looked back to the vale
I had outraged. The moon was rising and silvering the smoke, and
through the gaps I could see the tongues of fire. Somehow, I know not
why, the lake, the stream, the garden-coverts, even the green slopes of
hill, wore an air of loneliness and desecration. And then my heartache
returned, and I knew that I had driven something lovely and adorable
from its last refuge on earth.