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DUNG
,
BOY
.
DUNG
.
ALBERT
HAS
A
COMPOST
HEAP
IN
THE
GARDEN
.
I
IMAGINE
THERE
’
S
A
WHEELBARROW
SOMEWHERE
ON
THE
PREMISES
.
GET
ON
WITH
IT
.
Mort
nodded
mournfully
.
’
Yes
,
sir
.
I
see
,
sir
.
Sir
?
’
YES
?
’
Sir
,
I
don
’
t
see
what
this
has
to
do
with
the
secrets
of
time
and
space
.
’
Death
did
not
look
up
from
his
book
.
THAT
,
he
said
,
is
BECAUSE
YOU
ARE
HERE
TO
LEARN
.
It
is
a
fact
that
although
the
Death
of
the
Discworld
is
,
in
his
own
words
,
an
ANTHROPOMORPHIC
PERSONIFICATION
,
he
long
ago
gave
up
using
the
traditional
skeletal
horses
,
because
of
the
bother
of
having
to
stop
all
the
time
to
wire
bits
back
on
.
Now
his
horses
were
always
flesh
-
and
-
blood
beasts
,
from
the
finest
stock
.
And
,
Mort
learned
,
very
well
fed
.
Some
jobs
offer
increments
.
This
one
offered
–
well
,
quite
the
reverse
,
but
at
least
it
was
in
the
warm
and
fairly
easy
to
get
the
hang
of
.
After
a
while
he
got
into
the
rhythm
of
it
,
and
started
playing
the
private
little
quantity
-
surveying
game
that
everyone
plays
in
these
circumstances
.
Let
’
s
see
,
he
thought
,
I
’
ve
done
nearly
a
quarter
,
let
’
s
call
it
a
third
,
so
when
I
’
ve
done
that
corner
by
the
hayrack
it
’
ll
be
more
than
half
,
call
it
five
-
eighths
,
which
means
three
more
wheelbarrow
loads
.
.
.
.
It
doesn
’
t
prove
anything
very
much
except
that
the
awesome
splendour
of
the
universe
is
much
easier
to
deal
with
if
you
think
of
it
as
a
series
of
small
chunks
.
