Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding ScienceFiction, January, 1960. Extensive research did not reveal any evidencethat the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Dialectspellings, contractions and discrepancies have been retained.
ATTENTION SAINT PATRICK
By
MURRAY LEINSTER(Pseudonym of William Fitzgerald Jenkins)
Illustrated by Bernklau
_Legends do, of course, get somewhat distorted in the passage oftime. In the future, the passage across space to other planets maycause a slight modification here and there ..._
President O'Hanrahan of the planetary government of Eire listenedunhappily to his official guest. He had to, because Sean O'Donohue waschairman of the Dail--of Eire on Earth--Committee on the Condition ofthe Planet Eire. He could cut off all support from the still-strugglingcolony if he chose. He was short and opinionated, he had sharp, gimleteyes, he had bristling white hair that once had been red, and he wasthe grandfather of Moira O'Donohue, who'd traveled to Eire with him ona very uncomfortable spaceship. That last was a mark in his favor, butnow he stood four-square upon the sagging porch of the presidentialmansion of Eire, and laid down the law.
"I've been here three days." he told the president sternly, while hisgranddaughter looked sympathetic, "and I'm of the opinion that there'sbeen shenanigans goin' on to keep this fine world from becoming' what itwas meant for--a place for the people of Eire on Earth to emigrate towhen there was more of them than Erin has room for. Which is now!"
"We've had difficulties----" began the president uneasily.
"This world should be ready!" snapped Sean O'Donohue accusingly. "Itshould be waitin' for the Caseys and Bradys and Fitzpatricks and otherfine Erse people to move to and thrive on while the rest of the galaxygoes to pot with its new-fangled notions. That's the reason for thisworld's very existence. What set aside Erin on Earth, where ourancestors lived an' where their descendants are breathin' down eachother's necks because there's so many of them? There was no snakesthere! St. Patrick drove them out. What sets this world apart from allthe other livable planets men have put down their smelly spaceships on?There's no snakes here! St. Patrick has great influence up in Heaven.He knew his fine Erse people would presently need more room than therewas on Earth for them. So he'd a world set aside, and marked by thesign that no least trace of a serpent could exist on it. No creaturelike the one that blarneyed Mother Eve could be here! No----"
"Our trouble's been dinies," began the president apologetically.
But he froze. Something dark and sinuous and complacent oozed aroundthe corner of the presidential mansion. The president of Eire sweated.He recognized the dark object. He'd believed it safely put away inpleasant confinement until the Dail Committee went away. But it wasn't.It was Timothy, the amiable six-foot black snake who faithfully andcordially did his best to keep the presidential mansion from fallingdown. Without him innumerable mouse-sized holes, gnawed by mouse-sizeddinies, would assuredly have brought about its collapse. The presidentwas grateful, but he'd meant to keep Timothy out of sight. Timothy musthave escaped and as a faithful snake, loyal to his duty, he'd wriggledstraight back to the presidential mansion.
Like all Eire, he undoubtedly knew of the pious tradition that St.Patrick had brought the snakes to Eire, and he wasn't one to let St.Patrick down. So he'd returned and doubtless patrolled all the dinytunnels in the sagging structure. He'd cleaned out any miniature,dinosaurlike creatures who might be planning to eat some more nails. Henow prepared to nap, with a clear conscience. But if Sean O'Donohue sawhim--!
Perspiration stood out on President O'Hanrahan's forehead. The dropletsjoined and ran down his nose.
"It's evident," said the chairman of the Dail Committee, withtruculence, "that we're a pack of worthless, finagling' and maybe evenProtestant renegades from the ways an' the traditions of your fathers!There is been shenanigans goin' on! I'll find 'em!"
The president could not speak, with Timothy in full view. But then whatwas practically a miracle took place. A diny popped out of a hole inthe turf. He looked interestedly about. He was all of three incheslong, with red eyes and a blue tail, and in every proportion he was aminiature of the extinct dinosaurs of Earth. But he was an improvedmodel. The dinies of Eire were fitted by evolution--or Satan--to plaguehuman settlers. They ate their crops, destroyed their homes, devouredtheir tools, and when other comestibles turned up they'd take care ofthem, too.
This diny surveyed its surroundings. The presidential mansion lookedpromising. The diny moved toward it. But Timothy--nap plansabandoned--flung himself at the diny like the crack of a whip. The dinyplunged back into its hole. Timothy hurtled after it in pursuit. Hedisappeared.
The president of Eire breathed. He'd neglected that matter for someminutes, it seemed. He heard a voice continuing, formidably:
"And I know ye'll try to hide the shenanigans that've destroyed all thesacrifices Earth's made to have Eire a true Erse colony, ready for Erselads and colleens to move to and have room for their children and theirgrandchildren too. I know ye'll try! But unless I do find out--notanother bit of help will this colony get from Earth! No more tools! Nomore machinery that ye can't have worn out! No more provisions that yeshould be raisin' for yourselves! Your cold-storage plant should bebulgin' with food! It's near empty! It will not be refilled! And eventhe ship that we pay to have stop here every three months, for mail--noship!"
"It's the dinies," said the president feebly. "They're a great troubleto us, sir. They're our great handicap."
"Blather and nonsense!" snapped Sean O'Donohue. "They're no bigger thanmice! Ye could've trapped 'em! Ye could've raised cats! Don't tell methat fancy-colored little lizards could hinder a world especially setaside by the intercession of St. Patrick for the Erse people to thriveon! The token's plain! There's no snakes! And with such a sign to goby, there must've been shenanigans goin' on to make things go wrong!And till those shenanigans are exposed an' stopped--there'll be no morehelp from Earth for ye blaggards!"
He stamped his way into the presidential mansion. The door slammedshut. Moira, his granddaughter, regarded the president with sympathy.He looked bedraggled and crushed. He mopped his forehead. He did notraise his eyes to her. It was bad enough to be president of a planetarygovernment that couldn't even pay his salary, so there were patches inhis breeches that Moira must have noticed. It was worse that the colonywas, as a whole, entirely too much like the remaining shanty areas inEire back on Earth. But it was tragic that it was ridiculous for anyman on Eire to ask a girl from Earth to join him on so unpromising aplanet.
He said numbly:
"I'll be wishing you good morning, Moira."
He moved away, his chin sunk on his breast. Moira watched him go. Shedidn't seem happy. Then, fifty yards from the mansion, a luridlycolored something leaped out of a hole. It was a diny some eight incheslong, in enough of a hurry to say that something appalling was afterit. It landed before the president and took off again for some farhorizon. Then something sinuous and black dropped out of a tree upon itand instantly violent action took place in a patch of dust. A smallcloud arose. The president watched, with morbid interest, as thesporting event took place.
Moira stared, incredulous. Then, out of the hole from which the dinyhad leaped, a dark round head appeared. It could have been Timothy. Buthe saw that this diny was disposed of. That was that. Timothy--if itwas Timothy--withdrew to search further among diny tunnels about thepresidential mansion.
* * * * *
Half
an hour later the president told the solicitor general of Eireabout it. He was bitter.
"And when it was over, there was Moira starin' dazed-like from theporch, and the be-damned snake picked up the diny it'd killed andstarted off to dine on it in private. But I was in the way. So thesnake waited, polite, with the diny in its mouth, for me to move on.But it looked exactly like he'd brought over the diny for me to admire,like a cat'll show dead mice to a person she thinks will beinterested!"
"Holy St. Patrick!" said the solicitor general, appalled. "What'llhappen now?"
"I reason," said the president morbidly,