On the Island Read Online Free PDF Page B

was humming while the two of them hand in hand swam through the snow which was practically up to their knees, and now and again Iain heard the cock crow and then a dog bark till another dog answered the first dog and then there was a whole lot of invisible dogs barking all over the village.

6
    O NE EVENING I AIN went to see the Cook in order to ask him what the weather was going to be like the following day as he, his mother and Kenneth, were going to town, which they did only once a year because they had not much money. Nobody knew why he was called the Cook, though perhaps he might have been one in his youth when he was sailing the oceans on a merchant ship. He was an old man now, with a white beard and red cheeks, and he smoked a small stubby pipe.
    He was sitting on a bench outside his house when Iain called on him, and taking his pipe out of his mouth, he said, “Hullo, Iain, where have you been for such a long time? I haven’t seen you for weeks.”
    â€œI wasn’t doing anything,” said Iain. “Nothing particular.”
    The Cook’s teeth were yellow because of the tobacco he smoked and there was a smell from his clothes which Iain could never identify.
    â€œI came to ask you,” said Iain, and then he stopped, for the Cook had begun to speak.
    â€œYou never come without asking for something,” he said. “Why don’t you come and see me anyway?”
    As Iain didn’t have an answer to this he didn’t say anything: but the answer that he might have given if he had been bold enough was that he didn’t very much like talking to old people, for he didn’t know what to say and a lot of the time he used to sit on a chair looking down at his feet and kicking them together while he could hear the clock ticking, and he couldn’t think of any excuse for leaving. Anyway old people asked silly questions, and sometimes they would sit for hours without saying anything at all.
    He began again. “I came to ask you if it is going to be a good day tomorrow.” The words came out with a rush and then he stopped abruptly.
    â€œAye aye,” said the Cook. “I know what you’re going to do. You’re going to town. All the boys who are going to town ask me about the weather. I know that. Well, then,” he said, pointing at the sky with his pipe, “do you see that? It’s got straight clouds in it.” Iain looked at the sky and sure enough it was barred with clouds above the hill that would later turn purple, as it always did, in the evening.
    â€œIs that a good sign then?” he said, wishing that the Cook would give him a definite answer so that he could get away.
    â€œWell, in a way yes, and in another way no,” said the Cook. “Aren’t you the lucky one to be going to town? When I was your age I never got to town at all. And anyway in those days they didn’t have buses, they just had gigs and horses.” As it hadn’t occurred to Iain that the Cook could ever have been young he waited politely for him to finish speaking, only wondering why old people couldn’t answer yes or no to a simple question.
    â€œThat’s right,” said the Cook, tapping the pipe on his knee, “we used to have gigs. And do you know how I spent my time when I was young? I used to help my father with the ploughing. And I used to fish. You’re still in school, aren’t you? Well I left school when I was twelve and I never went back. The only time I asked about the weather was when I used to fish. Ay, those were the days. And we used to have ceilidhs too. We used to go to people’s houses and sing songs till late at night. That’s how we spent the time.” And he paused as if he was seeing what he was talking about, and seemed to have forgotten the pipe which was now lying motionless in his wrinkled hand.
    â€œI used to be like you once,” said the Cook. “Did you know that? I was your age once. You