At least they had got the sandwiches.
One day Old Thrashbarg said that Almighty Bob had decreed that he, Thrashbarg, was to have first pick of the sandwiches. The villagers asked him when this had happened, exactly, and Thrashbarg said it had happened yesterday, when they weren’t looking. `Have faith,’ Old Thrashbarg said, `or burn!’ They let him have first pick of the sandwiches. It seemed easiest.
And now this woman had just arrived out of nowhere, and gone straight for the Sandwich Maker’s hut. His fame had obviously spread, though it was hard to know where to since, according to Old Thrashbarg, there wasn’t anywhere else. Anyway, wherever it was she had come from, presumably somewhere ineffable, she was here now and was in the Sandwich Maker’s hut. Who was she? And who was the strange girl who was hanging around outside the hut moodily and kicking at stones and showing every sign of not wanting to be there? It seemed odd that someone should come all the way from somewhere ineffable in a chariot that was obviously a vast improvement on the burning fiery one which had brought them the Sandwich Maker, if she didn’t even want to be here?
They all looked to Thrashbarg, but he was on his knees mumbling and looking very firmly up into the sky and not catching anybody else’s eye until he’d thought of something.
`Trillian!’ said the Sandwich Maker, sucking his bleeding thumb. `What…? Who…? When…? Where…?’
`Exactly the questions I was going to ask you,’ said Trillian, looking around Arthur’s hut. It was neatly laid out with his kitchen utensils. There were some fairly basic cupboards and shelves, and a basic bed in the corner. A door at the back of the room led to something Trillian couldn’t see because the door was closed. `Nice,’ she said, but in an enquiring tone of voice. She couldn’t quite make out what the set-up was.
`Very nice,’ said Arthur. `Wonderfully nice. I don’t know when I’ve ever been anywhere nicer. I’m happy here. They like me, I make sandwiches for them, and… er, well that’s it really. They like me and I make sandwiches for them.’
`Sounds, er…’
`Idyllic,’ said Arthur, firmly. `It is. It really is. I don’t expect you’d like it very much, but for me it’s, well, it’s perfect. Look, sit down, please, make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything, er, a sandwich?’
Trillian picked up a sandwich and looked at it. She sniffed it carefully.
`Try it,’ said Arthur, `it’s good.’
Trillian took a nibble, then a bite and munched on it thought- fully.
`It is good,’ she said, looking at it.
`My life’s work,’ said Arthur, trying to sound proud and hoping he didn’t sound like a complete idiot. He was used to being revered a bit, and was having to go through some unexpected mental gear changes.
`What’s the meat in it?’ asked Trillian.
`Ah yes, that’s, um, that’s Perfectly Normal Beast.’
`It’s what?’
`Perfectly Normal Beast. It’s a bit like a cow, or rather a bull. Kind of like a buffalo in fact. Large, charging sort of animal.’
`So what’s odd about it?’
`Nothing, it’s Perfectly Normal.’
`I see.’
`It’s just a bit odd where it comes from.’
Tricia frowned, and stopped chewing.
`Where does it come from?’ she asked with her mouth full. She wasn’t going to swallow until she knew.
`Well it’s not just a matter of where it comes from, it’s also where it goes to. It’s all right, it’s perfectly safe to swallow. I’ve eaten tons of it. It’s great. Very succulent. Very tender. Slightly sweet flavour with a long dark finish.’
Trillian still hadn’t swallowed.
`Where,’ she said, `does it come from, and where does it go to?’
`They come from a point just slightly to the east of the Hondo Mountains. They’re the big ones behind us here, you must have seen them as you came in, and then they sweep in their thousands across the great Anhondo plains and, er, well that’s it really. That’s where they come from. That’s where they go.’
Trillian frowned. There was something she wasn’t quite getting about this.
`I probably haven’t made it quite clear,’ said Arthur. `When I say they come from a point to the east of the Hondo Moun- tains, I mean that that’s where they suddenly appear. Then they sweep across the Anhondo plains and, well, vanish really. We have about six days to catch as many of them as we can before they disappear. In the spring they do it again only the other way round, you see.’