The railway line hung from invisible staging under the bellies of the girders clustered round the throats of the piers and rode on the overhang of the footpath-stanchions; their fire-pots and the spurts.

Several times he had to flatten himself against the shelves as a thesaurus thundered by. He waited patiently as a herd of Critters crawled past grazing on the contents of the choicer books and leaving behind them piles of small slim volumes of literary criticism. And there were other things things which he hurried away from and tried not to look hard at . . . you had to avoid.
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Shouting and thrusting their spears at unguarded bodies. Our hunters slipped and fell in their own blood but some invaders they managed to slay. Our town contained more armed men than the cousin-brothers calculated for. Those were the brave corpsmen. They appeared from everywhere. But the invaders were desperate and hid in houses they had taken over. Young boys also were forced to fight including some of you here now past your prime. The fire spread. Sparks streamed overhead like husks at a winnowing as if they would light the sky. Carnage grew in the streets and ditches. Our women took up swords from the dead to fight off the living. All acquitted themselves valiantly. But boldness and desperation won the day—not to mention the leadership of him who this day went down to the world of the gossies to be with his ancestors. Eventually the defenders threw down their weapons and rushed.
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