diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/69683-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69683-0.txt | 6649 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 6649 deletions
diff --git a/old/69683-0.txt b/old/69683-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f62a1c0..0000000 --- a/old/69683-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6649 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Men without women, by Ernest Hemingway - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Men without women - -Author: Ernest Hemingway - -Release Date: January 1, 2023 [eBook #69683] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Marcia Brooks, Mark Akrigg, Cindy Beyer, Mary Meehan and - the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at - http://www.pgdpcanada.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN WITHOUT WOMEN *** - - - - - - MEN WITHOUT WOMEN - - By - ERNEST HEMINGWAY - - - BOOKS BY ERNEST HEMINGWAY - - - MEN WITHOUT WOMEN - THE SUN ALSO RISES - THE TORRENTS OF SPRING - IN OUR TIME - - - NEW YORK - CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - 1927 - - COPYRIGHT, 1927, BY - CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - _Copyright, 1926, by The Little Review Publishing Company_ - _Copyright, 1926, by Ernest Walsh and Ethel Moorhead_ - _Copyright, 1927, by Republic Publishing Company_ - _Copyright, 1927, by Doubleday, Page & Company_ - _Copyright, 1927, by Atlantic Monthly Company_ - _Copyright, 1927, by The Macaulay Company_ - Printed in the United States of America - - - - - TO - EVAN SHIPMAN - - - - - Some of these stories were first published - in the following periodicals: _The American_ - _Caravan_, _The Atlantic Monthly_, _The Little_ - _Review_, _The New Republic_, _La Nouvelle_ - _Revue Française_, _This Quarter_, _Der Querschnitt_, - _Scribner’s Magazine_, _Transition_. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - THE UNDEFEATED - IN ANOTHER COUNTRY - HILLS LIKE WHITE ELEPHANTS - THE KILLERS - CHE TI DICE LA PATRIA? - FIFTY GRAND - A SIMPLE ENQUIRY - TEN INDIANS - A CANARY FOR ONE - AN ALPINE IDYLL - A PURSUIT RACE - TO-DAY IS FRIDAY - BANAL STORY - NOW I LAY ME - - - - - MEN WITHOUT WOMEN - - - - - THE UNDEFEATED - - -MANUEL GARCIA climbed the stairs to Don Miguel Retana’s office. He set -down his suitcase and knocked on the door. There was no answer. Manuel, -standing in the hallway, felt there was some one in the room. He felt it -through the door. - -“Retana,” he said, listening. - -There was no answer. - -He’s there, all right, Manuel thought. - -“Retana,” he said and banged the door. - -“Who’s there?” said some one in the office. - -“Me, Manolo,” Manuel said. - -“What do you want?” asked the voice. - -“I want to work,” Manuel said. - -Something in the door clicked several times and it swung open. Manuel -went in, carrying his suitcase. - -A little man sat behind a desk at the far side of the room. Over his -head was a bull’s head, stuffed by a Madrid taxidermist; on the walls -were framed photographs and bull-fight posters. - -The little man sat looking at Manuel. - -“I thought they’d killed you,” he said. - -Manuel knocked with his knuckles on the desk. The little man sat looking -at him across the desk. - -“How many corridas you had this year?” Retana asked. - -“One,” he answered. - -“Just that one?” the little man asked. - -“That’s all.” - -“I read about it in the papers,” Retana said. He leaned back in the -chair and looked at Manuel. - -Manuel looked up at the stuffed bull. He had seen it often before. He -felt a certain family interest in it. It had killed his brother, the -promising one, about nine years ago. Manuel remembered the day. There -was a brass plate on the oak shield the bull’s head was mounted on. -Manuel could not read it, but he imagined it was in memory of his -brother. Well, he had been a good kid. - -The plate said: “The Bull ‘Mariposa’ of the Duke of Veragua, which -accepted 9 varas for 7 caballos, and caused the death of Antonio Garcia, -Novillero, April 27, 1909.” - -Retana saw him looking at the stuffed bull’s head. - -“The lot the Duke sent me for Sunday will make a scandal,” he said. -“They’re all bad in the legs. What do they say about them at the Café?” - -“I don’t know,” Manuel said. “I just got in.” - -“Yes,” Retana said. “You still have your bag.” - -He looked at Manuel, leaning back behind the big desk. - -“Sit down,” he said. “Take off your cap.” - -Manuel sat down; his cap off, his face was changed. He looked pale, and -his coleta pinned forward on his head, so that it would not show under -the cap, gave him a strange look. - -“You don’t look well,” Retana said. - -“I just got out of the hospital,” Manuel said. - -“I heard they’d cut your leg off,” Retana said. - -“No,” said Manuel. “It got all right.” - -Retana leaned forward across the desk and pushed a wooden box of -cigarettes toward Manuel. - -“Have a cigarette,” he said. - -“Thanks.” - -Manuel lit it. - -“Smoke?” he said, offering the match to Retana. - -“No,” Retana waved his hand, “I never smoke.” - -Retana watched him smoking. - -“Why don’t you get a job and go to work?” he said. - -“I don’t want to work,” Manuel said. “I am a bull-fighter.” - -“There aren’t any bull-fighters any more,” Retana said. - -“I’m a bull-fighter,” Manuel said. - -“Yes, while you’re in there,” Retana said. - -Manuel laughed. - -Retana sat, saying nothing and looking at Manuel. - -“I’ll put you in a nocturnal if you want,” Retana offered. - -“When?” Manuel asked. - -“To-morrow night.” - -“I don’t like to substitute for anybody,” Manuel said. That was the way -they all got killed. That was the way Salvador got killed. He tapped -with his knuckles on the table. - -“It’s all I’ve got,” Retana said. - -“Why don’t you put me on next week?” Manuel suggested. - -“You wouldn’t draw,” Retana said. “All they want is Litri and Rubito and -La Torre. Those kids are good.” - -“They’d come to see me get it,” Manuel said, hopefully. - -“No, they wouldn’t. They don’t know who you are any more.” - -“I’ve got a lot of stuff,” Manuel said. - -“I’m offering to put you on to-morrow night,” Retana said. “You can work -with young Hernandez and kill two novillos after the Chariots.” - -“Whose novillos?” Manuel asked. - -“I don’t know. Whatever stuff they’ve got in the corrals. What the -veterinaries won’t pass in the daytime.” - -“I don’t like to substitute,” Manuel said. - -“You can take it or leave it,” Retana said. He leaned forward over the -papers. He was no longer interested. The appeal that Manuel had made to -him for a moment when he thought of the old days was gone. He would like -to get him to substitute for Larita because he could get him cheaply. He -could get others cheaply too. He would like to help him though. Still he -had given him the chance. It was up to him. - -“How much do I get?” Manuel asked. He was still playing with the idea of -refusing. But he knew he could not refuse. - -“Two hundred and fifty pesetas,” Retana said. He had thought of five -hundred, but when he opened his mouth it said two hundred and fifty. - -“You pay Villalta seven thousand,” Manuel said. - -“You’re not Villalta,” Retana said. - -“I know it,” Manuel said. - -“He draws it, Manolo,” Retana said in explanation. - -“Sure,” said Manuel. He stood up. “Give me three hundred, Retana.” - -“All right,” Retana agreed. He reached in the drawer for a paper. - -“Can I have fifty now?” Manuel asked. - -“Sure,” said Retana. He took a fifty peseta note out of his pocket-book -and laid it, spread out flat, on the table. - -Manuel picked it up and put it in his pocket. - -“What about a cuadrilla?” he asked. - -“There’s the boys that always work for me nights,” Retana said. “They’re -all right.” - -“How about picadors?” Manuel asked. - -“They’re not much,” Retana admitted. - -“I’ve got to have one good pic,” Manuel said. - -“Get him then,” Retana said. “Go and get him.” - -“Not out of this,” Manuel said. “I’m not paying for any cuadrilla out of -sixty duros.” - -Retana said nothing but looked at Manuel across the big desk. - -“You know I’ve got to have one good pic,” Manuel said. - -Retana said nothing but looked at Manuel from a long way off. - -“It isn’t right,” Manuel said. - -Retana was still considering him, leaning back in his chair, considering -him from a long way away. - -“There’re the regular pics,” he offered. - -“I know,” Manuel said. “I know your regular pics.” - -Retana did not smile. Manuel knew it was over. - -“All I want is an even break,” Manuel said reasoningly. “When I go out -there I want to be able to call my shots on the bull. It only takes one -good picador.” - -He was talking to a man who was no longer listening. - -“If you want something extra,” Retana said, “go and get it. There will -be a regular cuadrilla out there. Bring as many of your own pics as you -want. The charlotada is over by 10.30.” - -“All right,” Manuel said. “If that’s the way you feel about it.” - -“That’s the way,” Retana said. - -“I’ll see you to-morrow night,” Manuel said. - -“I’ll be out there,” Retana said. - -Manuel picked up his suitcase and went out. - -“Shut the door,” Retana called. - -Manuel looked back. Retana was sitting forward looking at some papers. -Manuel pulled the door tight until it clicked. - -He went down the stairs and out of the door into the hot brightness of -the street. It was very hot in the street and the light on the white -buildings was sudden and hard on his eyes. He walked down the shady side -of the steep street toward the Puerta del Sol. The shade felt solid and -cool as running water. The heat came suddenly as he crossed the -intersecting streets. Manuel saw no one he knew in all the people he -passed. - -Just before the Puerta del Sol he turned into a café. - -It was quiet in the café. There were a few men sitting at tables against -the wall. At one table four men played cards. Most of the men sat -against the wall smoking, empty coffee-cups and liqueur-glasses before -them on the tables. Manuel went through the long room to a small room in -back. A man sat at a table in the corner asleep. Manuel sat down at one -of the tables. - -A waiter came in and stood beside Manuel’s table. - -“Have you seen Zurito?” Manuel asked him. - -“He was in before lunch,” the waiter answered. “He won’t be back before -five o’clock.” - -“Bring me some coffee and milk and a shot of the ordinary,” Manuel said. - -The waiter came back into the room carrying a tray with a big -coffee-glass and a liqueur-glass on it. In his left hand he held a -bottle of brandy. He swung these down to the table and a boy who had -followed him poured coffee and milk into the glass from two shiny, -spouted pots with long handles. - -Manuel took off his cap and the waiter noticed his pigtail pinned -forward on his head. He winked at the coffee-boy as he poured out the -brandy into the little glass beside Manuel’s coffee. The coffee-boy -looked at Manuel’s pale face curiously. - -“You fighting here?” asked the waiter, corking up the bottle. - -“Yes,” Manuel said. “To-morrow.” - -The waiter stood there, holding the bottle on one hip. - -“You in the Charlie Chaplins?” he asked. - -The coffee-boy looked away, embarrassed. - -“No. In the ordinary.” - -“I thought they were going to have Chaves and Hernandez,” the waiter -said. - -“No. Me and another.” - -“Who? Chaves or Hernandez?” - -“Hernandez, I think.” - -“What’s the matter with Chaves?” - -“He got hurt.” - -“Where did you hear that?” - -“Retana.” - -“Hey, Looie,” the waiter called to the next room, “Chaves got cogida.” - -Manuel had taken the wrapper off the lumps of sugar and dropped them -into his coffee. He stirred it and drank it down, sweet, hot, and -warming in his empty stomach. He drank off the brandy. - -“Give me another shot of that,” he said to the waiter. - -The waiter uncorked the bottle and poured the glass full, slopping -another drink into the saucer. Another waiter had come up in front of -the table. The coffee-boy was gone. - -“Is Chaves hurt bad?” the second waiter asked Manuel. - -“I don’t know,” Manuel said, “Retana didn’t say.” - -“A hell of a lot he cares,” the tall waiter said. Manuel had not seen -him before. He must have just come up. - -“If you stand in with Retana in this town, you’re a made man,” the tall -waiter said. “If you aren’t in with him, you might just as well go out -and shoot yourself.” - -“You said it,” the other waiter who had come in said. “You said it -then.” - -“You’re right I said it,” said the tall waiter. “I know what I’m talking -about when I talk about that bird.” - -“Look what he’s done for Villalta,” the first waiter said. - -“And that ain’t all,” the tall waiter said. “Look what he’s done for -Marcial Lalanda. Look what he’s done for Nacional.” - -“You said it, kid,” agreed the short waiter. - -Manuel looked at them, standing talking in front of his table. He had -drunk his second brandy. They had forgotten about him. They were not -interested in him. - -“Look at that bunch of camels,” the tall waiter went on. “Did you ever -see this Nacional II?” - -“I seen him last Sunday didn’t I?” the original waiter said. - -“He’s a giraffe,” the short waiter said. - -“What did I tell you?” the tall waiter said. “Those are Retana’s boys.” - -“Say, give me another shot of that,” Manuel said. He had poured the -brandy the waiter had slopped over in the saucer into his glass and -drank it while they were talking. - -The original waiter poured his glass full mechanically, and the three of -them went out of the room talking. - -In the far corner the man was still asleep, snoring slightly on the -intaking breath, his head back against the wall. - -Manuel drank his brandy. He felt sleepy himself. It was too hot to go -out into the town. Besides there was nothing to do. He wanted to see -Zurito. He would go to sleep while he waited. He kicked his suitcase -under the table to be sure it was there. Perhaps it would be better to -put it back under the seat, against the wall. He leaned down and shoved -it under. Then he leaned forward on the table and went to sleep. - -When he woke there was some one sitting across the table from him. It -was a big man with a heavy brown face like an Indian. He had been -sitting there some time. He had waved the waiter away and sat reading -the paper and occasionally looking down at Manuel, asleep, his head on -the table. He read the paper laboriously, forming the words with his -lips as he read. When it tired him he looked at Manuel. He sat heavily -in the chair, his black Cordoba hat tipped forward. - -Manuel sat up and looked at him. - -“Hello, Zurito,” he said. - -“Hello, kid,” the big man said. - -“I’ve been asleep.” Manuel rubbed his forehead with the back of his -fist. - -“I thought maybe you were.” - -“How’s everything?” - -“Good. How is everything with you?” - -“Not so good.” - -They were both silent. Zurito, the picador, looked at Manuel’s white -face. Manuel looked down at the picador’s enormous hands folding the -paper to put away in his pocket. - -“I got a favor to ask you, Manos,” Manuel said. - -Manosduros was Zurito’s nickname. He never heard it without thinking of -his huge hands. He put them forward on the table self-consciously. - -“Let’s have a drink,” he said. - -“Sure,” said Manuel. - -The waiter came and went and came again. He went out of the room looking -back at the two men at the table. - -“What’s the matter, Manolo?” Zurito set down his glass. - -“Would you pic two bulls for me to-morrow night?” Manuel asked, looking -up at Zurito across the table. - -“No,” said Zurito. “I’m not pic-ing.” - -Manuel looked down at his glass. He had expected that answer; now he had -it. Well, he had it. - -“I’m sorry, Manolo, but I’m not pic-ing.” Zurito looked at his hands. - -“That’s all right,” Manuel said. - -“I’m too old,” Zurito said. - -“I just asked you,” Manuel said. - -“Is it the nocturnal to-morrow?” - -“That’s it. I figured if I had just one good pic, I could get away with -it.” - -“How much are you getting?” - -“Three hundred pesetas.” - -“I get more than that for pic-ing.” - -“I know,” said Manuel. “I didn’t have any right to ask you.” - -“What do you keep on doing it for?” Zurito asked. “Why don’t you cut off -your coleta, Manolo?” - -“I don’t know,” Manuel said. - -“You’re pretty near as old as I am,” Zurito said. - -“I don’t know,” Manuel said. “I got to do it. If I can fix it so that I -get an even break, that’s all I want. I got to stick with it, Manos.” - -“No, you don’t.” - -“Yes, I do. I’ve tried keeping away from it.” - -“I know how you feel. But it isn’t right. You ought to get out and stay -out.” - -“I can’t do it. Besides, I’ve been going good lately.” - -Zurito looked at his face. - -“You’ve been in the hospital.” - -“But I was going great when I got hurt.” - -Zurito said nothing. He tipped the cognac out of his saucer into his -glass. - -“The papers said they never saw a better faena,” Manuel said. - -Zurito looked at him. - -“You know when I get going I’m good,” Manuel said. - -“You’re too old,” the picador said. - -“No,” said Manuel. “You’re ten years older than I am.” - -“With me it’s different.” - -“I’m not too old,” Manuel said. - -They sat silent, Manuel watching the picador’s face. - -“I was going great till I got hurt,” Manuel offered. - -“You ought to have seen me, Manos,” Manuel said, reproachfully. - -“I don’t want to see you,” Zurito said. “It makes me nervous.” - -“You haven’t seen me lately.” - -“I’ve seen you plenty.” - -Zurito looked at Manuel, avoiding his eyes. - -“You ought to quit it, Manolo.” - -“I can’t,” Manuel said. “I’m going good now, I tell you.” - -Zurito leaned forward, his hands on the table. - -“Listen. I’ll pic for you and if you don’t go big to-morrow night, -you’ll quit. See? Will you do that?” - -“Sure.” - -Zurito leaned back, relieved. - -“You got to quit,” he said. “No monkey business. You got to cut the -coleta.” - -“I won’t have to quit,” Manuel said. “You watch me. I’ve got the stuff.” - -Zurito stood up. He felt tired from arguing. - -“You got to quit,” he said. “I’ll cut your coleta myself.” - -“No, you won’t,” Manuel said. “You won’t have a chance.” - -Zurito called the waiter. - -“Come on,” said Zurito. “Come on up to the house.” - -Manuel reached under the seat for his suitcase. He was happy. He knew -Zurito would pic for him. He was the best picador living. It was all -simple now. - -“Come on up to the house and we’ll eat,” Zurito said. - - * * * * * - -Manuel stood in the patio de caballos waiting for the Charlie Chaplins -to be over. Zurito stood beside him. Where they stood it was dark. The -high door that led into the bull-ring was shut. Above them they heard a -shout, then another shout of laughter. Then there was silence. Manuel -liked the smell of the stables about the patio de caballos. It smelt -good in the dark. There was another roar from the arena and then -applause, prolonged applause, going on and on. - -“You ever seen these fellows?” Zurito asked, big and looming beside -Manuel in the dark. - -“No,” Manuel said. - -“They’re pretty funny.” Zurito said. He smiled to himself in the dark. - -The high, double, tight-fitting door into the bull-ring swung open and -Manuel saw the ring in the hard light of the arc-lights, the plaza, dark -all the way around, rising high; around the edge of the ring were -running and bowing two men dressed like tramps, followed by a third in -the uniform of a hotel bell-boy who stooped and picked up the hats and -canes thrown down onto the sand and tossed them back up into the -darkness. - -The electric light went on in the patio. - -“I’ll climb onto one of those ponies while you collect the kids,” Zurito -said. - -Behind them came the jingle of the mules, coming out to go into the -arena and be hitched onto the dead bull. - -The members of the cuadrilla, who had been watching the burlesque from -the runway between the barrera and the seats, came walking back and -stood in a group talking, under the electric light in the patio. A -good-looking lad in a silver-and-orange suit came up to Manuel and -smiled. - -“I’m Hernandez,” he said and put out his hand. - -Manuel shook it. - -“They’re regular elephants we’ve got to-night,” the boy said cheerfully. - -“They’re big ones with horns,” Manuel agreed. - -“You drew the worst lot,” the boy said. - -“That’s all right,” Manuel said. “The bigger they are, the more meat for -the poor.” - -“Where did you get that one?” Hernandez grinned. - -“That’s an old one,” Manuel said. “You line up your cuadrilla, so I can -see what I’ve got.” - -“You’ve got some good kids,” Hernandez said. He was very cheerful. He -had been on twice before in nocturnals and was beginning to get a -following in Madrid. He was happy the fight would start in a few -minutes. - -“Where are the pics?” Manuel asked. - -“They’re back in the corrals fighting about who gets the beautiful -horses,” Hernandez grinned. - -The mules came through the gate in a rush, the whips snapping, bells -jangling and the young bull ploughing a furrow of sand. - -They formed up for the paseo as soon as the bull had gone through. - -Manuel and Hernandez stood in front. The youths of the cuadrillas were -behind, their heavy capes furled over their arms. In back, the four -picadors, mounted, holding their steel-tipped push-poles erect in the -half-dark of the corral. - -“It’s a wonder Retana wouldn’t give us enough light to see the horses -by,” one picador said. - -“He knows we’ll be happier if we don’t get too good a look at these -skins,” another pic answered. - -“This thing I’m on barely keeps me off the ground,” the first picador -said. - -“Well, they’re horses.” - -“Sure, they’re horses.” - -They talked, sitting their gaunt horses in the dark. - -Zurito said nothing. He had the only steady horse of the lot. He had -tried him, wheeling him in the corrals and he responded to the bit and -the spurs. He had taken the bandage off his right eye and cut the -strings where they had tied his ears tight shut at the base. He was a -good, solid horse, solid on his legs. That was all he needed. He -intended to ride him all through the corrida. He had already, since he -had mounted, sitting in the half-dark in the big, quilted saddle, -waiting for the paseo, pic-ed through the whole corrida in his mind. The -other picadors went on talking on both sides of him. He did not hear -them. - -The two matadors stood together in front of their three peones, their -capes furled over their left arms in the same fashion. Manuel was -thinking about the three lads in back of him. They were all three -Madrileños, like Hernandez, boys about nineteen. One of them, a gypsy, -serious, aloof, and dark-faced, he liked the look of. He turned. - -“What’s your name, kid?” he asked the gypsy. - -“Fuentes,” the gypsy said. - -“That’s a good name,” Manuel said. - -The gypsy smiled, showing his teeth. - -“You take the bull and give him a little run when he comes out,” Manuel -said. - -“All right,” the gypsy said. His face was serious. He began to think -about just what he would do. - -“Here she goes,” Manuel said to Hernandez. - -“All right. We’ll go.” - -Heads up, swinging with the music, their right arms swinging free, they -stepped out, crossing the sanded arena under the arc-lights, the -cuadrillas opening out behind, the picadors riding after, behind came -the bull-ring servants and the jingling mules. The crowd applauded -Hernandez as they marched across the arena. Arrogant, swinging, they -looked straight ahead as they marched. - -They bowed before the president, and the procession broke up into its -component parts. The bull-fighters went over to the barrera and changed -their heavy mantles for the light fighting capes. The mules went out. -The picadors galloped jerkily around the ring, and two rode out the gate -they had come in by. The servants swept the sand smooth. - -Manuel drank a glass of water poured for him by one of Retana’s -deputies, who was acting as his manager and sword-handler. Hernandez -came over from speaking with his own manager. - -“You got a good hand, kid,” Manuel complimented him. - -“They like me,” Hernandez said happily. - -“How did the paseo go?” Manuel asked Retana’s man. - -“Like a wedding,” said the handler. “Fine. You came out like Joselito -and Belmonte.” - -Zurito rode by, a bulky equestrian statue. He wheeled his horse and -faced him toward the toril on the far side of the ring where the bull -would come out. It was strange under the arc-light. He pic-ed in the hot -afternoon sun for big money. He didn’t like this arc-light business. He -wished they would get started. - -Manuel went up to him. - -“Pic him, Manos,” he said. “Cut him down to size for me.” - -“I’ll pic him, kid,” Zurito spat on the sand. “I’ll make him jump out of -the ring.” - -“Lean on him, Manos,” Manuel said. - -“I’ll lean on him,” Zurito said. “What’s holding it up?” - -“He’s coming now,” Manuel said. - -Zurito sat there, his feet in the box-stirrups, his great legs in the -buckskin-covered armor gripping the horse, the reins in his left hand, -the long pic held in his right hand, his broad hat well down over his -eyes to shade them from the lights, watching the distant door of the -toril. His horse’s ears quivered. Zurito patted him with his left hand. - -The red door of the toril swung back and for a moment Zurito looked into -the empty passageway far across the arena. Then the bull came out in a -rush, skidding on his four legs as he came out under the lights, then -charging in a gallop, moving softly in a fast gallop, silent except as -he woofed through wide nostrils as he charged, glad to be free after the -dark pen. - -In the first row of seats, slightly bored, leaning forward to write on -the cement wall in front of his knees, the substitute bull-fight critic -of _El Heraldo_ scribbled: “Campagnero, Negro, 42, came out at 90 miles -an hour with plenty of gas——” - -Manuel, leaning against the barrera, watching the bull, waved his hand -and the gypsy ran out, trailing his cape. The bull, in full gallop, -pivoted and charged the cape, his head down, his tail rising. The gypsy -moved in a zigzag, and as he passed, the bull caught sight of him and -abandoned the cape to charge the man. The gyp sprinted and vaulted the -red fence of the barrera as the bull struck it with his horns. He tossed -into it twice with his horns, banging into the wood blindly. - -The critic of _El Heraldo_ lit a cigarette and tossed the match at the -bull, then wrote in his note-book, “large and with enough horns to -satisfy the cash customers, Campagnero showed a tendency to cut into the -terrane of the bull-fighters.” - -Manuel stepped out on the hard sand as the bull banged into the fence. -Out of the corner of his eye he saw Zurito sitting the white horse close -to the barrera, about a quarter of the way around the ring to the left. -Manuel held the cape close in front of him, a fold in each hand, and -shouted at the bull. “Huh! Huh!” The bull turned, seemed to brace -against the fence as he charged in a scramble, driving into the cape as -Manuel side-stepped, pivoted on his heels with the charge of the bull, -and swung the cape just ahead of the horns. At the end of the swing he -was facing the bull again and held the cape in the same position close -in front of his body, and pivoted again as the bull recharged. Each -time, as he swung, the crowd shouted. - -Four times he swung with the bull, lifting the cape so it billowed full, -and each time bringing the bull around to charge again. Then, at the end -of the fifth swing, he held the cape against his hip and pivoted, so the -cape swung out like a ballet dancer’s skirt and wound the bull around -himself like a belt, to step clear, leaving the bull facing Zurito on -the white horse, come up and planted firm, the horse facing the bull, -its ears forward, its lips nervous, Zurito, his hat over his eyes, -leaning forward, the long pole sticking out before and behind in a sharp -angle under his right arm, held half-way down, the triangular iron point -facing the bull. - -_El Heraldo’s_ second-string critic, drawing on his cigarette, his eyes -on the bull, wrote: “the veteran Manolo designed a series of acceptable -veronicas, ending in a very Belmontistic recorte that earned applause -from the regulars, and we entered the tercio of the cavalry.” - -Zurito sat his horse, measuring the distance between the bull and the -end of the pic. As he looked, the bull gathered himself together and -charged, his eyes on the horse’s chest. As he lowered his head to hook, -Zurito sunk the point of the pic in the swelling hump of muscle above -the bull’s shoulder, leaned all his weight on the shaft, and with his -left hand pulled the white horse into the air, front hoofs pawing, and -swung him to the right as he pushed the bull under and through so the -horns passed safely under the horse’s belly and the horse came down, -quivering, the bull’s tail brushing his chest as he charged the cape -Hernandez offered him. - -Hernandez ran sideways, taking the bull out and away with the cape, -toward the other picador. He fixed him with a swing of the cape, -squarely facing the horse and rider, and stepped back. As the bull saw -the horse he charged. The picador’s lance slid along his back, and as -the shock of the charge lifted the horse, the picador was already -half-way out of the saddle, lifting his right leg clear as he missed -with the lance and falling to the left side to keep the horse between -him and the bull. The horse, lifted and gored, crashed over with the -bull driving into him, the picador gave a shove with his boots against -the horse and lay clear, waiting to be lifted and hauled away and put on -his feet. - -Manuel let the bull drive into the fallen horse; he was in no hurry, the -picador was safe; besides, it did a picador like that good to worry. -He’d stay on longer next time. Lousy pics! He looked across the sand at -Zurito a little way out from the barrera, his horse rigid, waiting. - -“Huh!” he called to the bull, “Tomar!” holding the cape in both hands so -it would catch his eye. The bull detached himself from the horse and -charged the cape, and Manuel, running sideways and holding the cape -spread wide, stopped, swung on his heels, and brought the bull sharply -around facing Zurito. - -“Campagnero accepted a pair of varas for the death of one rosinante, -with Hernandez and Manolo at the quites,” _El Heraldo’s_ critic wrote. -“He pressed on the iron and clearly showed he was no horse-lover. The -veteran Zurito resurrected some of his old stuff with the pike-pole, -notably the suerte——” - -“Olé Olé!” the man sitting beside him shouted. The shout was lost in the -roar of the crowd, and he slapped the critic on the back. The critic -looked up to see Zurito, directly below him, leaning far out over his -horse, the length of the pic rising in a sharp angle under his armpit, -holding the pic almost by the point, bearing down with all his weight, -holding the bull off, the bull pushing and driving to get at the horse, -and Zurito, far out, on top of him, holding him, holding him, and slowly -pivoting the horse against the pressure, so that at last he was clear. -Zurito felt the moment when the horse was clear and the bull could come -past, and relaxed the absolute steel lock of his resistance, and the -triangular steel point of the pic ripped in the bull’s hump of shoulder -muscle as he tore loose to find Hernandez’s cape before his muzzle. He -charged blindly into the cape and the boy took him out into the open -arena. - -Zurito sat patting his horse and looking at the bull charging the cape -that Hernandez swung for him out under the bright light while the crowd -shouted. - -“You see that one?” he said to Manuel. - -“It was a wonder,” Manuel said. - -“I got him that time,” Zurito said. “Look at him now.” - -At the conclusion of a closely turned pass of the cape the bull slid to -his knees. He was up at once, but far out across the sand Manuel and -Zurito saw the shine of the pumping flow of blood, smooth against the -black of the bull’s shoulder. - -“I got him that time,” Zurito said. - -“He’s a good bull,” Manuel said. - -“If they gave me another shot at him, I’d kill him,” Zurito said. - -“They’ll change the thirds on us,” Manuel said. - -“Look at him now,” Zurito said. - -“I got to go over there,” Manuel said, and started on a run for the -other side of the ring, where the monos were leading a horse out by the -bridle toward the bull, whacking him on the legs with rods and all, in a -procession, trying to get him toward the bull, who stood, dropping his -head, pawing, unable to make up his mind to charge. - -Zurito, sitting his horse, walking him toward the scene, not missing any -detail, scowled. - -Finally the bull charged, the horse leaders ran for the barrera, the -picador hit too far back, and the bull got under the horse, lifted him, -threw him onto his back. - -Zurito watched. The monos, in their red shirts, running out to drag the -picador clear. The picador, now on his feet, swearing and flopping his -arms. Manuel and Hernandez standing ready with their capes. And the -bull, the great, black bull, with a horse on his back, hooves dangling, -the bridle caught in the horns. Black bull with a horse on his back, -staggering short-legged, then arching his neck and lifting, thrusting, -charging to slide the horse off, horse sliding down. Then the bull into -a lunging charge at the cape Manuel spread for him. - -The bull was slower now, Manuel felt. He was bleeding badly. There was a -sheen of blood all down his flank. - -Manuel offered him the cape again. There he came, eyes open, ugly, -watching the cape. Manuel stepped to the side and raised his arms, -tightening the cape ahead of the bull for the veronica. - -Now he was facing the bull. Yes, his head was going down a little. He -was carrying it lower. That was Zurito. - -Manuel flopped the cape; there he comes; he side-stepped and swung in -another veronica. He’s shooting awfully accurately, he thought. He’s had -enough fight, so he’s watching now. He’s hunting now. Got his eye on me. -But I always give him the cape. - -He shook the cape at the bull; there he comes; he side-stepped. Awful -close that time. I don’t want to work that close to him. - -The edge of the cape was wet with blood where it had swept along the -bull’s back as he went by. - -All right, here’s the last one. - -Manuel, facing the bull, having turned with him each charge, offered the -cape with his two hands. The bull looked at him. Eyes watching, horns -straight forward, the bull looked at him, watching. - -“Huh!” Manuel said, “Toro!” and leaning back, swung the cape forward. -Here he comes. He side-stepped, swung the cape in back of him, and -pivoted, so the bull followed a swirl of cape and then was left with -nothing, fixed by the pass, dominated by the cape. Manuel swung the cape -under his muzzle with one hand, to show the bull was fixed, and walked -away. - -There was no applause. - -Manuel walked across the sand toward the barrera, while Zurito rode out -of the ring. The trumpet had blown to change the act to the planting of -the banderillos while Manuel had been working with the bull. He had not -consciously noticed it. The monos were spreading canvas over the two -dead horses and sprinkling sawdust around them. - -Manuel came up to the barrera for a drink of water. Retana’s man handed -him the heavy porous jug. - -Fuentes, the tall gypsy, was standing holding a pair of banderillos, -holding them together, slim, red sticks, fish-hook points out. He looked -at Manuel. - -“Go on out there,” Manuel said. - -The gypsy trotted out. Manuel set down the jug and watched. He wiped his -face with his handkerchief. - -The critic of _El Heraldo_ reached for the bottle of warm champagne that -stood between his feet, took a drink, and finished his paragraph. - -“—the aged Manolo rated no applause for a vulgar series of lances with -the cape and we entered the third of the palings.” - -Alone in the centre of the ring the bull stood, still fixed. Fuentes, -tall, flat-backed, walking toward him arrogantly, his arms spread out, -the two slim, red sticks, one in each hand, held by the fingers, points -straight forward. Fuentes walked forward. Back of him and to one side -was a peon with a cape. The bull looked at him and was no longer fixed. - -His eyes watched Fuentes, now standing still. Now he leaned back, -calling to him. Fuentes twitched the two banderillos and the light on -the steel points caught the bull’s eye. - -His tail went up and he charged. - -He came straight, his eyes on the man. Fuentes stood still, leaning -back, the banderillos pointing forward. As the bull lowered his head to -hook, Fuentes leaned backward, his arms came together and rose, his two -hands touching, the banderillos two descending red lines, and leaning -forward drove the points into the bull’s shoulder, leaning far in over -the bull’s horns and pivoting on the two upright sticks, his legs tight -together, his body curving to one side to let the bull pass. - -“Olé!” from the crowd. - -The bull was hooking wildly, jumping like a trout, all four feet off the -ground. The red shaft of the banderillos tossed as he jumped. - -Manuel standing at the barrera, noticed that he hooked always to the -right. - -“Tell him to drop the next pair on the right,” he said to the kid who -started to run out to Fuentes with the new banderillos. - -A heavy hand fell on his shoulder. It was Zurito. - -“How do you feel, kid?” he asked. - -Manuel was watching the bull. - -Zurito leaned forward on the barrera, leaning the weight of his body on -his arms. Manuel turned to him. - -“You’re going good,” Zurito said. - -Manuel shook his head. He had nothing to do now until the next third. -The gypsy was very good with the banderillos. The bull would come to him -in the next third in good shape. He was a good bull. It had all been -easy up to now. The final stuff with the sword was all he worried over. -He did not really worry. He did not even think about it. But standing -there he had a heavy sense of apprehension. He looked out at the bull, -planning his faena, his work with the red cloth that was to reduce the -bull, to make him manageable. - -The gypsy was walking out toward the bull again, walking heel-and-toe, -insultingly, like a ball-room dancer, the red shafts of the banderillos -twitching with his walk. The bull watched him, not fixed now, hunting -him, but waiting to get close enough so he could be sure of getting him, -getting the horns into him. - -As Fuentes walked forward the bull charged. Fuentes ran across the -quarter of a circle as the bull charged and, as he passed running -backward, stopped, swung forward, rose on his toes, arms straight out, -and sunk the banderillos straight down into the tight of the big -shoulder muscles as the bull missed him. - -The crowd were wild about it. - -“That kid won’t stay in this night stuff long,” Retana’s man said to -Zurito. - -“He’s good,” Zurito said. - -“Watch him now.” - -They watched. - -Fuentes was standing with his back against the barrera. Two of the -cuadrilla were back of him, with their capes ready to flop over the -fence to distract the bull. - -The bull, with his tongue out, his barrel heaving, was watching the -gypsy. He thought he had him now. Back against the red planks. Only a -short charge away. The bull watched him. - -The gypsy bent back, drew back his arms, the banderillos pointing at the -bull. He called to the bull, stamped one foot. The bull was suspicious. -He wanted the man. No more barbs in the shoulder. - -Fuentes walked a little closer to the bull. Bent back. Called again. -Somebody in the crowd shouted a warning. - -“He’s too damn close,” Zurito said. - -“Watch him,” Retana’s man said. - -Leaning back, inciting the bull with the banderillos, Fuentes jumped, -both feet off the ground. As he jumped the bull’s tail rose and he -charged. Fuentes came down on his toes, arms straight out, whole body -arching forward, and drove the shafts straight down as he swung his body -clear of the right horn. - -The bull crashed into the barrera where the flopping capes had attracted -his eye as he lost the man. - -The gypsy came running along the barrera toward Manuel, taking the -applause of the crowd. His vest was ripped where he had not quite -cleared the point of the horn. He was happy about it, showing it to the -spectators. He made the tour of the ring. Zurito saw him go by, smiling, -pointing at his vest. He smiled. - -Somebody else was planting the last pair of banderillos. Nobody was -paying any attention. - -Retana’s man tucked a baton inside the red cloth of a muleta, folded the -cloth over it, and handed it over the barrera to Manuel. He reached in -the leather sword-case, took out a sword, and holding it by its leather -scabbard, reached it over the fence to Manuel. Manuel pulled the blade -out by the red hilt and the scabbard fell limp. - -He looked at Zurito. The big man saw he was sweating. - -“Now you get him, kid,” Zurito said. - -Manuel nodded. - -“He’s in good shape,” Zurito said. - -“Just like you want him,” Retana’s man assured him. - -Manuel nodded. - -The trumpeter, up under the roof, blew for the final act, and Manuel -walked across the arena toward where, up in the dark boxes, the -president must be. - -In the front row of seats the substitute bull-fight critic of _El -Heraldo_ took a long drink of the warm champagne. He had decided it was -not worth while to write a running story and would write up the corrida -back in the office. What the hell was it anyway? Only a nocturnal. If he -missed anything he would get it out of the morning papers. He took -another drink of the champagne. He had a date at Maxim’s at twelve. Who -were these bull-fighters anyway? Kids and bums. A bunch of bums. He put -his pad of paper in his pocket and looked over toward Manuel, standing -very much alone in the ring, gesturing with his hat in a salute toward a -box he could not see high up in the dark plaza. Out in the ring the bull -stood quiet, looking at nothing. - -“I dedicate this bull to you, Mr. President, and to the public of -Madrid, the most intelligent and generous of the world,” was what Manuel -was saying. It was a formula. He said it all. It was a little long for -nocturnal use. - -He bowed at the dark, straightened, tossed his hat over his shoulder, -and, carrying the muleta in his left hand and the sword in his right, -walked out toward the bull. - -Manuel walked toward the bull. The bull looked at him; his eyes were -quick. Manuel noticed the way the banderillos hung down on his left -shoulder and the steady sheen of blood from Zurito’s pic-ing. He noticed -the way the bull’s feet were. As he walked forward, holding the muleta -in his left hand and the sword in his right, he watched the bull’s feet. -The bull could not charge without gathering his feet together. Now he -stood square on them, dully. - -Manuel walked toward him, watching his feet. This was all right. He -could do this. He must work to get the bull’s head down, so he could go -in past the horns and kill him. He did not think about the sword, not -about killing the bull. He thought about one thing at a time. The coming -things oppressed him, though. Walking forward, watching the bull’s feet, -he saw successively his eyes, his wet muzzle, and the wide, -forward-pointing spread of his horns. The bull had light circles about -his eyes. His eyes watched Manuel. He felt he was going to get this -little one with the white face. - -Standing still now and spreading the red cloth of the muleta with the -sword, pricking the point into the cloth so that the sword, now held in -his left hand, spread the red flannel like the jib of a boat, Manuel -noticed the points of the bull’s horns. One of them was splintered from -banging against the barrera. The other was sharp as a porcupine quill. -Manuel noticed while spreading the muleta that the white base of the -horn was stained red. While he noticed these things he did not lose -sight of the bull’s feet. The bull watched Manuel steadily. - -He’s on the defensive now, Manuel thought. He’s reserving himself. I’ve -got to bring him out of that and get his head down. Always get his head -down. Zurito had his head down once, but he’s come back. He’ll bleed -when I start him going and that will bring it down. - -Holding the muleta, with the sword in his left hand widening it in front -of him, he called to the bull. - -The bull looked at him. - -He leaned back insultingly and shook the wide-spread flannel. - -The bull saw the muleta. It was a bright scarlet under the arc-light. -The bull’s legs tightened. - -Here he comes. Whoosh! Manuel turned as the bull came and raised the -muleta so that it passed over the bull’s horns and swept down his broad -back from head to tail. The bull had gone clean up in the air with the -charge. Manuel had not moved. - -At the end of the pass the bull turned like a cat coming around a corner -and faced Manuel. - -He was on the offensive again. His heaviness was gone. Manuel noted the -fresh blood shining down the black shoulder and dripping down the bull’s -leg. He drew the sword out of the muleta and held it in his right hand. -The muleta held low down in his left hand, leaning toward the left, he -called to the bull. The bull’s legs tightened, his eyes on the muleta. -Here he comes, Manuel thought. Yuh! - -He swung with the charge, sweeping the muleta ahead of the bull, his -feet firm, the sword following the curve, a point of light under the -arcs. - -The bull recharged as the pase natural finished and Manuel raised the -muleta for a pase de pecho. Firmly planted, the bull came by his chest -under the raised muleta. Manuel leaned his head back to avoid the -clattering banderillo shafts. The hot, black bull body touched his chest -as it passed. - -Too damn close, Manuel thought. Zurito, leaning on the barrera, spoke -rapidly to the gypsy, who trotted out toward Manuel with a cape. Zurito -pulled his hat down low and looked out across the arena at Manuel. - -Manuel was facing the bull again, the muleta held low and to the left. -The bull’s head was down as he watched the muleta. - -“If it was Belmonte doing that stuff, they’d go crazy,” Retana’s man -said. - -Zurito said nothing. He was watching Manuel out in the centre of the -arena. - -“Where did the boss dig this fellow up?” Retana’s man asked. - -“Out of the hospital,” Zurito said. - -“That’s where he’s going damn quick,” Retana’s man said. - -Zurito turned on him. - -“Knock on that,” he said, pointing to the barrera. - -“I was just kidding, man,” Retana’s man said. - -“Knock on the wood.” - -Retana’s man leaned forward and knocked three times on the barrera. - -“Watch the faena,” Zurito said. - -Out in the centre of the ring, under the lights, Manuel was kneeling, -facing the bull, and as he raised the muleta in both hands the bull -charged, tail up. - -Manuel swung his body clear and, as the bull recharged, brought around -the muleta in a half-circle that pulled the bull to his knees. - -“Why, that one’s a great bull-fighter,” Retana’s man said. - -“No, he’s not,” said Zurito. - -Manuel stood up and, the muleta in his left hand, the sword in his -right, acknowledged the applause from the dark plaza. - -The bull had humped himself up from his knees and stood waiting, his -head hung low. - -Zurito spoke to two of the other lads of the cuadrilla and they ran out -to stand back of Manuel with their capes. There were four men back of -him now. Hernandez had followed him since he first came out with the -muleta. Fuentes stood watching, his cape held against his body, tall, in -repose, watching lazy-eyed. Now the two came up. Hernandez motioned them -to stand one at each side. Manuel stood alone, facing the bull. - -Manuel waved back the men with the capes. Stepping back cautiously, they -saw his face was white and sweating. - -Didn’t they know enough to keep back? Did they want to catch the bull’s -eye with the capes after he was fixed and ready? He had enough to worry -about without that kind of thing. - -The bull was standing, his four feet square, looking at the muleta. -Manuel furled the muleta in his left hand. The bull’s eyes watched it. -His body was heavy on his feet. He carried his head low, but not too -low. - -Manuel lifted the muleta at him. The bull did not move. Only his eyes -watched. - -He’s all lead, Manuel thought. He’s all square. He’s framed right. He’ll -take it. - -He thought in bull-fight terms. Sometimes he had a thought and the -particular piece of slang would not come into his mind and he could not -realize the thought. His instincts and his knowledge worked -automatically, and his brain worked slowly and in words. He knew all -about bulls. He did not have to think about them. He just did the right -thing. His eyes noted things and his body performed the necessary -measures without thought. If he thought about it, he would be gone. - -Now, facing the bull, he was conscious of many things at the same time. -There were the horns, the one splintered, the other smoothly sharp, the -need to profile himself toward the left horn, lance himself short and -straight, lower the muleta so the bull would follow it, and, going in -over the horns, put the sword all the way into a little spot about as -big as a five-peseta piece straight in back of the neck, between the -sharp pitch of the bull’s shoulders. He must do all this and must then -come out from between the horns. He was conscious he must do all this, -but his only thought was in words: “Corto y derecho.” - -“Corto y derecho,” he thought, furling the muleta. Short and straight. -Corto y derecho, he drew the sword out of the muleta, profiled on the -splintered left horn, dropped the muleta across his body, so his right -hand with the sword on the level with his eye made the sign of the -cross, and, rising on his toes, sighted along the dipping blade of the -sword at the spot high up between the bull’s shoulders. - -Corto y derecho he lanced himself on the bull. - -There was a shock, and he felt himself go up in the air. He pushed on -the sword as he went up and over, and it flew out of his hand. He hit -the ground and the bull was on him. Manuel, lying on the ground, kicked -at the bull’s muzzle with his slippered feet. Kicking, kicking, the bull -after him, missing him in his excitement, bumping him with his head, -driving the horns into the sand. Kicking like a man keeping a ball in -the air, Manuel kept the bull from getting a clean thrust at him. - -Manuel felt the wind on his back from the capes flopping at the bull, -and then the bull was gone, gone over him in a rush. Dark, as his belly -went over. Not even stepped on. - -Manuel stood up and picked up the muleta. Fuentes handed him the sword. -It was bent where it had struck the shoulder-blade. Manuel straightened -it on his knee and ran toward the bull, standing now beside one of the -dead horses. As he ran, his jacket flopped where it had been ripped -under his armpit. - -“Get him out of there,” Manuel shouted to the gypsy. The bull had -smelled the blood of the dead horse and ripped into the canvas-cover -with his horns. He charged Fuentes’s cape, with the canvas hanging from -his splintered horn, and the crowd laughed. Out in the ring, he tossed -his head to rid himself of the canvas. Hernandez, running up from behind -him, grabbed the end of the canvas and neatly lifted it off the horn. - -The bull followed it in a half-charge and stopped still. He was on the -defensive again. Manuel was walking toward him with the sword and -muleta. Manuel swung the muleta before him. The bull would not charge. - -Manuel profiled toward the bull, sighting along the dipping blade of the -sword. The bull was motionless, seemingly dead on his feet, incapable of -another charge. - -Manuel rose to his toes, sighting along the steel, and charged. - -Again there was the shock and he felt himself being borne back in a -rush, to strike hard on the sand. There was no chance of kicking this -time. The bull was on top of him. Manuel lay as though dead, his head on -his arms, and the bull bumped him. Bumped his back, bumped his face in -the sand. He felt the horn go into the sand between his folded arms. The -bull hit him in the small of the back. His face drove into the sand. The -horn drove through one of his sleeves and the bull ripped it off. Manuel -was tossed clear and the bull followed the capes. - -Manuel got up, found the sword and muleta, tried the point of the sword -with his thumb, and then ran toward the barrera for a new sword. - -Retana’s man handed him the sword over the edge of the barrera. - -“Wipe off your face,” he said. - -Manuel, running again toward the bull, wiped his bloody face with his -handkerchief. He had not seen Zurito. Where was Zurito? - -The cuadrilla had stepped away from the bull and waited with their -capes. The bull stood, heavy and dull again after the action. - -Manuel walked toward him with the muleta. He stopped and shook it. The -bull did not respond. He passed it right and left, left and right before -the bull’s muzzle. The bull’s eyes watched it and turned with the swing, -but he would not charge. He was waiting for Manuel. - -Manuel was worried. There was nothing to do but go in. Corto y derecho. -He profiled close to the bull, crossed the muleta in front of his body -and charged. As he pushed in the sword, he jerked his body to the left -to clear the horn. The bull passed him and the sword shot up in the air, -twinkling under the arc-lights, to fall red-hilted on the sand. - -Manuel ran over and picked it up. It was bent and he straightened it -over his knee. - -As he came running toward the bull, fixed again now, he passed Hernandez -standing with his cape. - -“He’s all bone,” the boy said encouragingly. - -Manuel nodded, wiping his face. He put the bloody handkerchief in his -pocket. - -There was the bull. He was close to the barrera now. Damn him. Maybe he -was all bone. Maybe there was not any place for the sword to go in. The -hell there wasn’t! He’d show them. - -He tried a pass with the muleta and the bull did not move. Manuel -chopped the muleta back and forth in front of the bull. Nothing doing. - -He furled the muleta, drew the sword out, profiled and drove in on the -bull. He felt the sword buckle as he shoved it in, leaning his weight on -it, and then it shot high in the air, end-over-ending into the crowd. -Manuel had jerked clear as the sword jumped. - -The first cushions thrown down out of the dark missed him. Then one hit -him in the face, his bloody face looking toward the crowd. They were -coming down fast. Spotting the sand. Somebody threw an empty -champagne-bottle from close range. It hit Manuel on the foot. He stood -there watching the dark, where the things were coming from. Then -something whished through the air and struck by him. Manuel leaned over -and picked it up. It was his sword. He straightened it over his knee and -gestured with it to the crowd. - -“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.” - -Oh, the dirty bastards! Dirty bastards! Oh, the lousy, dirty bastards! -He kicked into a cushion as he ran. - -There was the bull. The same as ever. All right, you dirty, lousy -bastard! - -Manuel passed the muleta in front of the bull’s black muzzle. - -Nothing doing. - -You won’t! All right. He stepped close and jammed the sharp peak of the -muleta into the bull’s damp muzzle. - -The bull was on him as he jumped back and as he tripped on a cushion he -felt the horn go into him, into his side. He grabbed the horn with his -two hands and rode backward, holding tight onto the place. The bull -tossed him and he was clear. He lay still. It was all right. The bull -was gone. - -He got up coughing and feeling broken and gone. The dirty bastards! - -“Give me the sword,” he shouted. “Give me the stuff.” - -Fuentes came up with the muleta and the sword. - -Hernandez put his arm around him. - -“Go on to the infirmary, man,” he said. “Don’t be a damn fool.” - -“Get away from me,” Manuel said. “Get to hell away from me.” - -He twisted free. Hernandez shrugged his shoulders. Manuel ran toward the -bull. - -There was the bull standing, heavy, firmly planted. - -All right, you bastard! Manuel drew the sword out of the muleta, sighted -with the same movement, and flung himself onto the bull. He felt the -sword go in all the way. Right up to the guard. Four fingers and his -thumb into the bull. The blood was hot on his knuckles, and he was on -top of the bull. - -The bull lurched with him as he lay on, and seemed to sink; then he was -standing clear. He looked at the bull going down slowly over on his -side, then suddenly four feet in the air. - -Then he gestured at the crowd, his hand warm from the bull blood. - -All right, you bastards! He wanted to say something, but he started to -cough. It was hot and choking. He looked down for the muleta. He must go -over and salute the president. President hell! He was sitting down -looking at something. It was the bull. His four feet up. Thick tongue -out. Things crawling around on his belly and under his legs. Crawling -where the hair was thin. Dead bull. To hell with the bull! To hell with -them all! He started to get to his feet and commenced to cough. He sat -down again, coughing. Somebody came and pushed him up. - -They carried him across the ring to the infirmary, running with him -across the sand, standing blocked at the gate as the mules came in, then -around under the dark passageway, men grunting as they took him up the -stairway, and then laid him down. - -The doctor and two men in white were waiting for him. They laid him out -on the table. They were cutting away his shirt. Manuel felt tired. His -whole chest felt scalding inside. He started to cough and they held -something to his mouth. Everybody was very busy. - -There was an electric light in his eyes. He shut his eyes. - -He heard some one coming very heavily up the stairs. Then he did not -hear it. Then he heard a noise far off. That was the crowd. Well, -somebody would have to kill his other bull. They had cut away all his -shirt. The doctor smiled at him. There was Retana. - -“Hello, Retana!” Manuel said. He could not hear his voice. - -Retana smiled at him and said something. Manuel could not hear it. - -Zurito stood beside the table, bending over where the doctor was -working. He was in his picador clothes, without his hat. - -Zurito said something to him. Manuel could not hear it. - -Zurito was speaking to Retana. One of the men in white smiled and handed -Retana a pair of scissors. Retana gave them to Zurito. Zurito said -something to Manuel. He could not hear it. - -To hell with this operating-table! He’d been on plenty of -operating-tables before. He was not going to die. There would be a -priest if he was going to die. - -Zurito was saying something to him. Holding up the scissors. - -That was it. They were going to cut off his coleta. They were going to -cut off his pigtail. - -Manuel sat up on the operating-table. The doctor stepped back, angry. -Some one grabbed him and held him. - -“You couldn’t do a thing like that, Manos,” he said. - -He heard suddenly, clearly, Zurito’s voice. - -“That’s all right,” Zurito said. “I won’t do it. I was joking.” - -“I was going good,” Manuel said. “I didn’t have any luck. That was all.” - -Manuel lay back. They had put something over his face. It was all -familiar. He inhaled deeply. He felt very tired. He was very, very -tired. They took the thing away from his face. - -“I was going good,” Manuel said weakly. “I was going great.” - -Retana looked at Zurito and started for the door. - -“I’ll stay here with him,” Zurito said. - -Retana shrugged his shoulders. - -Manuel opened his eyes and looked at Zurito. - -“Wasn’t I going good, Manos?” he asked, for confirmation. - -“Sure,” said Zurito. “You were going great.” - -The doctor’s assistant put the cone over Manuel’s face and he inhaled -deeply. Zurito stood awkwardly, watching. - - - - - IN ANOTHER COUNTRY - - -IN the fall the war was always there, but we did not go to it any more. -It was cold in the fall in Milan and the dark came very early. Then the -electric lights came on, and it was pleasant along the streets looking -in the windows. There was much game hanging outside the shops, and the -snow powdered in the fur of the foxes and the wind blew their tails. The -deer hung stiff and heavy and empty, and small birds blew in the wind -and the wind turned their feathers. It was a cold fall and the wind came -down from the mountains. - -We were all at the hospital every afternoon, and there were different -ways of walking across the town through the dusk to the hospital. Two of -the ways were alongside canals, but they were long. Always, though, you -crossed a bridge across a canal to enter the hospital. There was a -choice of three bridges. On one of them a woman sold roasted chestnuts. -It was warm, standing in front of her charcoal fire, and the chestnuts -were warm afterward in your pocket. The hospital was very old and very -beautiful, and you entered through a gate and walked across a courtyard -and out a gate on the other side. There were usually funerals starting -from the courtyard. Beyond the old hospital were the new brick -pavilions, and there we met every afternoon and were all very polite and -interested in what was the matter, and sat in the machines that were to -make so much difference. - -The doctor came up to the machine where I was sitting and said: “What -did you like best to do before the war? Did you practise a sport?” - -I said: “Yes, football.” - -“Good,” he said. “You will be able to play football again better than -ever.” - -My knee did not bend and the leg dropped straight from the knee to the -ankle without a calf, and the machine was to bend the knee and make it -move as in riding a tricycle. But it did not bend yet, and instead the -machine lurched when it came to the bending part. The doctor said: “That -will all pass. You are a fortunate young man. You will play football -again like a champion.” - -In the next machine was a major who had a little hand like a baby’s. He -winked at me when the doctor examined his hand, which was between two -leather straps that bounced up and down and flapped the stiff fingers, -and said: “And will I too play football, captain-doctor?” He had been a -very great fencer, and before the war the greatest fencer in Italy. - -The doctor went to his office in a back room and brought a photograph -which showed a hand that had been withered almost as small as the -major’s, before it had taken a machine course, and after was a little -larger. The major held the photograph with his good hand and looked at -it very carefully. “A wound?” he asked. - -“An industrial accident,” the doctor said. - -“Very interesting, very interesting,” the major said, and handed it back -to the doctor. - -“You have confidence?” - -“No,” said the major. - -There were three boys who came each day who were about the same age I -was. They were all three from Milan, and one of them was to be a lawyer, -and one was to be a painter, and one had intended to be a soldier, and -after we were finished with the machines, sometimes we walked back -together to the Café Cova, which was next door to the Scala. We walked -the short way through the communist quarter because we were four -together. The people hated us because we were officers, and from a -wine-shop some one would call out, “A basso gli ufficiali!” as we -passed. Another boy who walked with us sometimes and made us five wore a -black silk handkerchief across his face because he had no nose then and -his face was to be rebuilt. He had gone out to the front from the -military academy and been wounded within an hour after he had gone into -the front line for the first time. They rebuilt his face, but he came -from a very old family and they could never get the nose exactly right. -He went to South America and worked in a bank. But this was a long time -ago, and then we did not any of us know how it was going to be -afterward. We only knew then that there was always the war, but that we -were not going to it any more. - -We all had the same medals, except the boy with the black silk bandage -across his face, and he had not been at the front long enough to get any -medals. The tall boy with a very pale face who was to be a lawyer had -been a lieutenant of Arditi and had three medals of the sort we each had -only one of. He had lived a very long time with death and was a little -detached. We were all a little detached, and there was nothing that held -us together except that we met every afternoon at the hospital. -Although, as we walked to the Cova through the tough part of town, -walking in the dark, with light and singing coming out of the -wine-shops, and sometimes having to walk into the street when the men -and women would crowd together on the sidewalk so that we would have had -to jostle them to get by, we felt held together by there being something -that had happened that they, the people who disliked us, did not -understand. - -We ourselves all understood the Cova, where it was rich and warm and not -too brightly lighted, and noisy and smoky at certain hours, and there -were always girls at the tables and the illustrated papers on a rack on -the wall. The girls at the Cova were very patriotic, and I found that -the most patriotic people in Italy were the café girls—and I believe -they are still patriotic. - -The boys at first were very polite about my medals and asked me what I -had done to get them. I showed them the papers, which were written in -very beautiful language and full of _fratellanza_ and _abnegazione_, but -which really said, with the adjectives removed, that I had been given -the medals because I was an American. After that their manner changed a -little toward me, although I was their friend against outsiders. I was a -friend, but I was never really one of them after they had read the -citations, because it had been different with them and they had done -very different things to get their medals. I had been wounded, it was -true; but we all knew that being wounded, after all, was really an -accident. I was never ashamed of the ribbons, though, and sometimes, -after the cocktail hour, I would imagine myself having done all the -things they had done to get their medals; but walking home at night -through the empty streets with the cold wind and all the shops closed, -trying to keep near the street lights, I knew that I would never have -done such things, and I was very much afraid to die, and often lay in -bed at night by myself, afraid to die and wondering how I would be when -I went back to the front again. - -The three with the medals were like hunting-hawks; and I was not a hawk, -although I might seem a hawk to those who had never hunted; they, the -three, knew better and so we drifted apart. But I stayed good friends -with the boy who had been wounded his first day at the front, because he -would never know now how he would have turned out; so he could never be -accepted either, and I liked him because I thought perhaps he would not -have turned out to be a hawk either. - -The major, who had been the great fencer, did not believe in bravery, -and spent much time while we sat in the machines correcting my grammar. -He had complimented me on how I spoke Italian, and we talked together -very easily. One day I had said that Italian seemed such an easy -language to me that I could not take a great interest in it; everything -was so easy to say. “Ah, yes,” the major said. “Why, then, do you not -take up the use of grammar?” So we took up the use of grammar, and soon -Italian was such a difficult language that I was afraid to talk to him -until I had the grammar straight in my mind. - -The major came very regularly to the hospital. I do not think he ever -missed a day, although I am sure he did not believe in the machines. -There was a time when none of us believed in the machines, and one day -the major said it was all nonsense. The machines were new then and it -was we who were to prove them. It was an idiotic idea, he said, “a -theory, like another.” I had not learned my grammar, and he said I was a -stupid impossible disgrace, and he was a fool to have bothered with me. -He was a small man and he sat straight up in his chair with his right -hand thrust into the machine and looked straight ahead at the wall while -the straps thumped up and down with his fingers in them. - -“What will you do when the war is over if it is over?” he asked me. -“Speak grammatically!” - -“I will go to the States.” - -“Are you married?” - -“No, but I hope to be.” - -“The more of a fool you are,” he said. He seemed very angry. “A man must -not marry.” - -“Why, Signor Maggiore?” - -“Don’t call me ‘Signor Maggiore.’” - -“Why must not a man marry?” - -“He cannot marry. He cannot marry,” he said angrily. “If he is to lose -everything, he should not place himself in a position to lose that. He -should not place himself in a position to lose. He should find things he -cannot lose.” - -He spoke very angrily and bitterly, and looked straight ahead while he -talked. - -“But why should he necessarily lose it?” - -“He’ll lose it,” the major said. He was looking at the wall. Then he -looked down at the machine and jerked his little hand out from between -the straps and slapped it hard against his thigh. “He’ll lose it,” he -almost shouted. “Don’t argue with me!” Then he called to the attendant -who ran the machines. “Come and turn this damned thing off.” - -He went back into the other room for the light treatment and the -massage. Then I heard him ask the doctor if he might use his telephone -and he shut the door. When he came back into the room, I was sitting in -another machine. He was wearing his cape and had his cap on, and he came -directly toward my machine and put his arm on my shoulder. - -“I am so sorry,” he said, and patted me on the shoulder with his good -hand. “I would not be rude. My wife has just died. You must forgive me.” - -“Oh—” I said, feeling sick for him. “I am _so_ sorry.” - -He stood there biting his lower lip. “It is very difficult,” he said. “I -cannot resign myself.” - -He looked straight past me and out through the window. Then he began to -cry. “I am utterly unable to resign myself,” he said and choked. And -then crying, his head up looking at nothing, carrying himself straight -and soldierly, with tears on both his cheeks and biting his lips, he -walked past the machines and out the door. - -The doctor told me that the major’s wife, who was very young and whom he -had not married until he was definitely invalided out of the war, had -died of pneumonia. She had been sick only a few days. No one expected -her to die. The major did not come to the hospital for three days. Then -he came at the usual hour, wearing a black band on the sleeve of his -uniform. When he came back, there were large framed photographs around -the wall, of all sorts of wounds before and after they had been cured by -the machines. In front of the machine the major used were three -photographs of hands like his that were completely restored. I do not -know where the doctor got them. I always understood we were the first to -use the machines. The photographs did not make much difference to the -major because he only looked out of the window. - - - - - HILLS LIKE WHITE ELEPHANTS - - -THE hills across the valley of the Ebro were long and white. On this -side there was no shade and no trees and the station was between two -lines of rails in the sun. Close against the side of the station there -was the warm shadow of the building and a curtain, made of strings of -bamboo beads, hung across the open door into the bar, to keep out flies. -The American and the girl with him sat at a table in the shade, outside -the building. It was very hot and the express from Barcelona would come -in forty minutes. It stopped at this junction for two minutes and went -on to Madrid. - -“What should we drink?” the girl asked. She had taken off her hat and -put it on the table. - -“It’s pretty hot,” the man said. - -“Let’s drink beer.” - -“Dos cervezas,” the man said into the curtain. - -“Big ones?” a woman asked from the doorway. - -“Yes. Two big ones.” - -The woman brought two glasses of beer and two felt pads. She put the -felt pads and the beer glasses on the table and looked at the man and -the girl. The girl was looking off at the line of hills. They were white -in the sun and the country was brown and dry. - -“They look like white elephants,” she said. - -“I’ve never seen one,” the man drank his beer. - -“No, you wouldn’t have.” - -“I might have,” the man said. “Just because you say I wouldn’t have -doesn’t prove anything.” - -The girl looked at the bead curtain. “They’ve painted something on it,” -she said. “What does it say?” - -“Anis del Toro. It’s a drink.” - -“Could we try it?” - -The man called “Listen” through the curtain. The woman came out from the -bar. - -“Four reales.” - -“We want two Anis del Toro.” - -“With water?” - -“Do you want it with water?” - -“I don’t know,” the girl said. “Is it good with water?” - -“It’s all right.” - -“You want them with water?” asked the woman. - -“Yes, with water.” - -“It tastes like licorice,” the girl said and put the glass down. - -“That’s the way with everything.” - -“Yes,” said the girl. “Everything tastes of licorice. Especially all the -things you’ve waited so long for, like absinthe.” - -“Oh, cut it out.” - -“You started it,” the girl said. “I was being amused. I was having a -fine time.” - -“Well, let’s try and have a fine time.” - -“All right. I was trying. I said the mountains looked like white -elephants. Wasn’t that bright?” - -“That was bright.” - -“I wanted to try this new drink. That’s all we do, isn’t it—look at -things and try new drinks?” - -“I guess so.” - -The girl looked across at the hills. - -“They’re lovely hills,” she said. “They don’t really look like white -elephants. I just meant the coloring of their skin through the trees.” - -“Should we have another drink?” - -“All right.” - -The warm wind blew the bead curtain against the table. - -“The beer’s nice and cool,” the man said. - -“It’s lovely,” the girl said. - -“It’s really an awfully simple operation, Jig,” the man said. “It’s not -really an operation at all.” - -The girl looked at the ground the table legs rested on. - -“I know you wouldn’t mind it, Jig. It’s really not anything. It’s just -to let the air in.” - -The girl did not say anything. - -“I’ll go with you and I’ll stay with you all the time. They just let the -air in and then it’s all perfectly natural.” - -“Then what will we do afterward?” - -“We’ll be fine afterward. Just like we were before.” - -“What makes you think so?” - -“That’s the only thing that bothers us. It’s the only thing that’s made -us unhappy.” - -The girl looked at the bead curtain, put her hand out and took hold of -two of the strings of beads. - -“And you think then we’ll be all right and be happy.” - -“I know we will. You don’t have to be afraid. I’ve known lots of people -that have done it.” - -“So have I,” said the girl. “And afterward they were all so happy.” - -“Well,” the man said, “if you don’t want to you don’t have to. I -wouldn’t have you do it if you didn’t want to. But I know it’s perfectly -simple.” - -“And you really want to?” - -“I think it’s the best thing to do. But I don’t want you to do it if you -don’t really want to.” - -“And if I do it you’ll be happy and things will be like they were and -you’ll love me?” - -“I love you now. You know I love you.” - -“I know. But if I do it, then it will be nice again if I say things are -like white elephants, and you’ll like it?” - -“I’ll love it. I love it now but I just can’t think about it. You know -how I get when I worry.” - -“If I do it you won’t ever worry?” - -“I won’t worry about that because it’s perfectly simple.” - -“Then I’ll do it. Because I don’t care about me.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“I don’t care about me.” - -“Well, I care about you.” - -“Oh, yes. But I don’t care about me. And I’ll do it and then everything -will be fine.” - -“I don’t want you to do it if you feel that way.” - -The girl stood up and walked to the end of the station. Across, on the -other side, were fields of grain and trees along the banks of the Ebro. -Far away, beyond the river, were mountains. The shadow of a cloud moved -across the field of grain and she saw the river through the trees. - -“And we could have all this,” she said. “And we could have everything -and every day we make it more impossible.” - -“What did you say?” - -“I said we could have everything.” - -“We can have everything.” - -“No, we can’t.” - -“We can have the whole world.” - -“No, we can’t.” - -“We can go everywhere.” - -“No, we can’t. It isn’t ours any more.” - -“It’s ours.” - -“No, it isn’t. And once they take it away, you never get it back.” - -“But they haven’t taken it away.” - -“We’ll wait and see.” - -“Come on back in the shade,” he said. “You mustn’t feel that way.” - -“I don’t feel any way,” the girl said. “I just know things.” - -“I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do——” - -“Nor that isn’t good for me,” she said. “I know. Could we have another -beer?” - -“All right. But you’ve got to realize——” - -“I realize,” the girl said. “Can’t we maybe stop talking?” - -They sat down at the table and the girl looked across at the hills on -the dry side of the valley and the man looked at her and at the table. - -“You’ve got to realize,” he said, “that I don’t want you to do it if you -don’t want to. I’m perfectly willing to go through with it if it means -anything to you.” - -“Doesn’t it mean anything to you? We could get along.” - -“Of course it does. But I don’t want anybody but you. I don’t want any -one else. And I know it’s perfectly simple.” - -“Yes, you know it’s perfectly simple.” - -“It’s all right for you to say that, but I do know it.” - -“Would you do something for me now?” - -“I’d do anything for you.” - -“Would you please please please please please please please stop -talking?” - -He did not say anything but looked at the bags against the wall of the -station. There were labels on them from all the hotels where they had -spent nights. - -“But I don’t want you to,” he said, “I don’t care anything about it.” - -“I’ll scream,” the girl said. - -The woman came out through the curtains with two glasses of beer and put -them down on the damp felt pads. “The train comes in five minutes,” she -said. - -“What did she say?” asked the girl. - -“That the train is coming in five minutes.” - -The girl smiled brightly at the woman, to thank her. - -“I’d better take the bags over to the other side of the station,” the -man said. She smiled at him. - -“All right. Then come back and we’ll finish the beer.” - -He picked up the two heavy bags and carried them around the station to -the other tracks. He looked up the tracks but could not see the train. -Coming back, he walked through the barroom, where people waiting for the -train were drinking. He drank an Anis at the bar and looked at the -people. They were all waiting reasonably for the train. He went out -through the bead curtain. She was sitting at the table and smiled at -him. - -“Do you feel better?” he asked. - -“I feel fine,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I feel fine.” - - - - - THE KILLERS - - -THE door of Henry’s lunch-room opened and two men came in. They sat down -at the counter. - -“What’s yours?” George asked them. - -“I don’t know,” one of the men said. “What do you want to eat, Al?” - -“I don’t know,” said Al. “I don’t know what I want to eat.” - -Outside it was getting dark. The street-light came on outside the -window. The two men at the counter read the menu. From the other end of -the counter Nick Adams watched them. He had been talking to George when -they came in. - -“I’ll have a roast pork tenderloin with apple sauce and mashed -potatoes,” the first man said. - -“It isn’t ready yet.” - -“What the hell do you put it on the card for?” - -“That’s the dinner,” George explained. “You can get that at six -o’clock.” - -George looked at the clock on the wall behind the counter. - -“It’s five o’clock.” - -“The clock says twenty minutes past five,” the second man said. - -“It’s twenty minutes fast.” - -“Oh, to hell with the clock,” the first man said. “What have you got to -eat?” - -“I can give you any kind of sandwiches,” George said. “You can have ham -and eggs, bacon and eggs, liver and bacon, or a steak.” - -“Give me chicken croquettes with green peas and cream sauce and mashed -potatoes.” - -“That’s the dinner.” - -“Everything we want’s the dinner, eh? That’s the way you work it.” - -“I can give you ham and eggs, bacon and eggs, liver——” - -“I’ll take ham and eggs,” the man called Al said. He wore a derby hat -and a black overcoat buttoned across the chest. His face was small and -white and he had tight lips. He wore a silk muffler and gloves. - -“Give me bacon and eggs,” said the other man. He was about the same size -as Al. Their faces were different, but they were dressed like twins. -Both wore overcoats too tight for them. They sat leaning forward, their -elbows on the counter. - -“Got anything to drink?” Al asked. - -“Silver beer, bevo, ginger-ale,” George said. - -“I mean you got anything to _drink_?” - -“Just those I said.” - -“This is a hot town,” said the other. “What do they call it?” - -“Summit.” - -“Ever hear of it?” Al asked his friend. - -“No,” said the friend. - -“What do you do here nights?” Al asked. - -“They eat the dinner,” his friend said. “They all come here and eat the -big dinner.” - -“That’s right,” George said. - -“So you think that’s right?” Al asked George. - -“Sure.” - -“You’re a pretty bright boy, aren’t you?” - -“Sure,” said George. - -“Well, you’re not,” said the other little man. “Is he, Al?” - -“He’s dumb,” said Al. He turned to Nick. “What’s your name?” - -“Adams.” - -“Another bright boy,” Al said. “Ain’t he a bright boy, Max?” - -“The town’s full of bright boys,” Max said. - -George put the two platters, one of ham and eggs, the other of bacon and -eggs, on the counter. He set down two side-dishes of fried potatoes and -closed the wicket into the kitchen. - -“Which is yours?” he asked Al. - -“Don’t you remember?” - -“Ham and eggs.” - -“Just a bright boy,” Max said. He leaned forward and took the ham and -eggs. Both men ate with their gloves on. George watched them eat. - -“What are _you_ looking at?” Max looked at George. - -“Nothing.” - -“The hell you were. You were looking at me.” - -“Maybe the boy meant it for a joke, Max,” Al said. - -George laughed. - -“_You_ don’t have to laugh,” Max said to him. “_You_ don’t have to laugh -at all, see?” - -“All right,” said George. - -“So he thinks it’s all right.” Max turned to Al. “He thinks it’s all -right. That’s a good one.” - -“Oh, he’s a thinker,” Al said. They went on eating. - -“What’s the bright boy’s name down the counter?” Al asked Max. - -“Hey, bright boy,” Max said to Nick. “You go around on the other side of -the counter with your boy friend.” - -“What’s the idea?” Nick asked. - -“There isn’t any idea.” - -“You better go around, bright boy,” Al said. Nick went around behind the -counter. - -“What’s the idea?” George asked. - -“None of your damn business,” Al said. “Who’s out in the kitchen?” - -“The nigger.” - -“What do you mean the nigger?” - -“The nigger that cooks.” - -“Tell him to come in.” - -“What’s the idea?” - -“Tell him to come in.” - -“Where do you think you are?” - -“We know damn well where we are,” the man called Max said. “Do we look -silly?” - -“You talk silly,” Al said to him. “What the hell do you argue with this -kid for? Listen,” he said to George, “tell the nigger to come out here.” - -“What are you going to do to him?” - -“Nothing. Use your head, bright boy. What would we do to a nigger?” - -George opened the slit that opened back into the kitchen. “Sam,” he -called. “Come in here a minute.” - -The door to the kitchen opened and the nigger came in. “What was it?” he -asked. The two men at the counter took a look at him. - -“All right, nigger. You stand right there,” Al said. - -Sam, the nigger, standing in his apron, looked at the two men sitting at -the counter. “Yes, sir,” he said. Al got down from his stool. - -“I’m going back to the kitchen with the nigger and bright boy,” he said. -“Go on back to the kitchen, nigger. You go with him, bright boy.” The -little man walked after Nick and Sam, the cook, back into the kitchen. -The door shut after them. The man called Max sat at the counter opposite -George. He didn’t look at George but looked in the mirror that ran along -back of the counter. Henry’s had been made over from a saloon into a -lunch-counter. - -“Well, bright boy,” Max said, looking into the mirror, “why don’t you -say something?” - -“What’s it all about?” - -“Hey, Al,” Max called, “bright boy wants to know what it’s all about.” - -“Why don’t you tell him?” Al’s voice came from the kitchen. - -“What do you think it’s all about?” - -“I don’t know.” - -“What do you think?” - -Max looked into the mirror all the time he was talking. - -“I wouldn’t say.” - -“Hey, Al, bright boy says he wouldn’t say what he thinks it’s all -about.” - -“I can hear you, all right,” Al said from the kitchen. He had propped -open the slit that dishes passed through into the kitchen with a catsup -bottle. “Listen, bright boy,” he said from the kitchen to George. “Stand -a little further along the bar. You move a little to the left, Max.” He -was like a photographer arranging for a group picture. - -“Talk to me, bright boy,” Max said. “What do you think’s going to -happen?” - -George did not say anything. - -“I’ll tell you,” Max said. “We’re going to kill a Swede. Do you know a -big Swede named Ole Andreson?” - -“Yes.” - -“He comes here to eat every night, don’t he?” - -“Sometimes he comes here.” - -“He comes here at six o’clock, don’t he?” - -“If he comes.” - -“We know all that, bright boy,” Max said. “Talk about something else. -Ever go to the movies?” - -“Once in a while.” - -“You ought to go to the movies more. The movies are fine for a bright -boy like you.” - -“What are you going to kill Ole Andreson for? What did he ever do to -you?” - -“He never had a chance to do anything to us. He never even seen us.” - -“And he’s only going to see us once,” Al said from the kitchen. - -“What are you going to kill him for, then?” George asked. - -“We’re killing him for a friend. Just to oblige a friend, bright boy.” - -“Shut up,” said Al from the kitchen. “You talk too goddam much.” - -“Well, I got to keep bright boy amused. Don’t I, bright boy?” - -“You talk too damn much,” Al said. “The nigger and my bright boy are -amused by themselves. I got them tied up like a couple of girl friends -in the convent.” - -“I suppose you were in a convent.” - -“You never know.” - -“You were in a kosher convent. That’s where you were.” - -George looked up at the clock. - -“If anybody comes in you tell them the cook is off, and if they keep -after it, you tell them you’ll go back and cook yourself. Do you get -that, bright boy?” - -“All right,” George said. “What you going to do with us afterward?” - -“That’ll depend,” Max said. “That’s one of those things you never know -at the time.” - -George looked up at the clock. It was a quarter past six. The door from -the street opened. A street-car motorman came in. - -“Hello, George,” he said. “Can I get supper?” - -“Sam’s gone out,” George said. “He’ll be back in about half an hour.” - -“I’d better go up the street,” the motorman said. George looked at the -clock. It was twenty minutes past six. - -“That was nice, bright boy,” Max said. “You’re a regular little -gentleman.” - -“He knew I’d blow his head off,” Al said from the kitchen. - -“No,” said Max. “It ain’t that. Bright boy is nice. He’s a nice boy. I -like him.” - -At six-fifty-five George said: “He’s not coming.” - -Two other people had been in the lunch-room. Once George had gone out to -the kitchen and made a ham-and-egg sandwich “to go” that a man wanted to -take with him. Inside the kitchen he saw Al, his derby hat tipped back, -sitting on a stool beside the wicket with the muzzle of a sawed-off -shotgun resting on the ledge. Nick and the cook were back to back in the -corner, a towel tied in each of their mouths. George had cooked the -sandwich, wrapped it up in oiled paper, put it in a bag, brought it in, -and the man had paid for it and gone out. - -“Bright boy can do everything,” Max said. “He can cook and everything. -You’d make some girl a nice wife, bright boy.” - -“Yes?” George said. “Your friend, Ole Andreson, isn’t going to come.” - -“We’ll give him ten minutes,” Max said. - -Max watched the mirror and the clock. The hands of the clock marked -seven o’clock, and then five minutes past seven. - -“Come on, Al,” said Max. “We better go. He’s not coming.” - -“Better give him five minutes,” Al said from the kitchen. - -In the five minutes a man came in, and George explained that the cook -was sick. - -“Why the hell don’t you get another cook?” the man asked. “Aren’t you -running a lunch-counter?” He went out. - -“Come on, Al,” Max said. - -“What about the two bright boys and the nigger?” - -“They’re all right.” - -“You think so?” - -“Sure. We’re through with it.” - -“I don’t like it,” said Al. “It’s sloppy. You talk too much.” - -“Oh, what the hell,” said Max. “We got to keep amused, haven’t we?” - -“You talk too much, all the same,” Al said. He came out from the -kitchen. The cut-off barrels of the shotgun made a slight bulge under -the waist of his too tight-fitting overcoat. He straightened his coat -with his gloved hands. - -“So long, bright boy,” he said to George. “You got a lot of luck.” - -“That’s the truth,” Max said. “You ought to play the races, bright boy.” - -The two of them went out the door. George watched them, through the -window, pass under the arc-light and cross the street. In their tight -overcoats and derby hats they looked like a vaudeville team. George went -back through the swinging-door into the kitchen and untied Nick and the -cook. - -“I don’t want any more of that,” said Sam, the cook. “I don’t want any -more of that.” - -Nick stood up. He had never had a towel in his mouth before. - -“Say,” he said. “What the hell?” He was trying to swagger it off. - -“They were going to kill Ole Andreson,” George said. “They were going to -shoot him when he came in to eat.” - -“Ole Andreson?” - -“Sure.” - -The cook felt the corners of his mouth with his thumbs. - -“They all gone?” he asked. - -“Yeah,” said George. “They’re gone now.” - -“I don’t like it,” said the cook. “I don’t like any of it at all.” - -“Listen,” George said to Nick. “You better go see Ole Andreson.” - -“All right.” - -“You better not have anything to do with it at all,” Sam, the cook, -said. “You better stay way out of it.” - -“Don’t go if you don’t want to,” George said. - -“Mixing up in this ain’t going to get you anywhere,” the cook said. “You -stay out of it.” - -“I’ll go see him,” Nick said to George. “Where does he live?” - -The cook turned away. - -“Little boys always know what they want to do,” he said. - -“He lives up at Hirsch’s rooming-house,” George said to Nick. - -“I’ll go up there.” - -Outside the arc-light shone through the bare branches of a tree. Nick -walked up the street beside the car-tracks and turned at the next -arc-light down a side-street. Three houses up the street was Hirsch’s -rooming-house. Nick walked up the two steps and pushed the bell. A woman -came to the door. - -“Is Ole Andreson here?” - -“Do you want to see him?” - -“Yes, if he’s in.” - -Nick followed the woman up a flight of stairs and back to the end of a -corridor. She knocked on the door. - -“Who is it?” - -“It’s somebody to see you, Mr. Andreson,” the woman said. - -“It’s Nick Adams.” - -“Come in.” - -Nick opened the door and went into the room. Ole Andreson was lying on -the bed with all his clothes on. He had been a heavyweight prizefighter -and he was too long for the bed. He lay with his head on two pillows. He -did not look at Nick. - -“What was it?” he asked. - -“I was up at Henry’s,” Nick said, “and two fellows came in and tied up -me and the cook, and they said they were going to kill you.” - -It sounded silly when he said it. Ole Andreson said nothing. - -“They put us out in the kitchen,” Nick went on. “They were going to -shoot you when you came in to supper.” - -Ole Andreson looked at the wall and did not say anything. - -“George thought I better come and tell you about it.” - -“There isn’t anything I can do about it,” Ole Andreson said. - -“I’ll tell you what they were like.” - -“I don’t want to know what they were like,” Ole Andreson said. He looked -at the wall. “Thanks for coming to tell me about it.” - -“That’s all right.” - -Nick looked at the big man lying on the bed. - -“Don’t you want me to go and see the police?” - -“No,” Ole Andreson said. “That wouldn’t do any good.” - -“Isn’t there something I could do?” - -“No. There ain’t anything to do.” - -“Maybe it was just a bluff.” - -“No. It ain’t just a bluff.” - -Ole Andreson rolled over toward the wall. - -“The only thing is,” he said, talking toward the wall, “I just can’t -make up my mind to go out. I been in here all day.” - -“Couldn’t you get out of town?” - -“No,” Ole Andreson said. “I’m through with all that running around.” - -He looked at the wall. - -“There ain’t anything to do now.” - -“Couldn’t you fix it up some way?” - -“No. I got in wrong.” He talked in the same flat voice. “There ain’t -anything to do. After a while I’ll make up my mind to go out.” - -“I better go back and see George,” Nick said. - -“So long,” said Ole Andreson. He did not look toward Nick. “Thanks for -coming around.” - -Nick went out. As he shut the door he saw Ole Andreson with all his -clothes on, lying on the bed looking at the wall. - -“He’s been in his room all day,” the landlady said downstairs. “I guess -he don’t feel well. I said to him: ‘Mr. Andreson, you ought to go out -and take a walk on a nice fall day like this,’ but he didn’t feel like -it.” - -“He doesn’t want to go out.” - -“I’m sorry he don’t feel well,” the woman said. “He’s an awfully nice -man. He was in the ring, you know.” - -“I know it.” - -“You’d never know it except from the way his face is,” the woman said. -They stood talking just inside the street door. “He’s just as gentle.” - -“Well, good-night, Mrs. Hirsch,” Nick said. - -“I’m not Mrs. Hirsch,” the woman said. “She owns the place. I just look -after it for her. I’m Mrs. Bell.” - -“Well, good-night, Mrs. Bell,” Nick said. - -“Good-night,” the woman said. - -Nick walked up the dark street to the corner under the arc-light, and -then along the car-tracks to Henry’s eating-house. George was inside, -back of the counter. - -“Did you see Ole?” - -“Yes,” said Nick. “He’s in his room and he won’t go out.” - -The cook opened the door from the kitchen when he heard Nick’s voice. - -“I don’t even listen to it,” he said and shut the door. - -“Did you tell him about it?” George asked. - -“Sure. I told him but he knows what it’s all about.” - -“What’s he going to do?” - -“Nothing.” - -“They’ll kill him.” - -“I guess they will.” - -“He must have got mixed up in something in Chicago.” - -“I guess so,” said Nick. - -“It’s a hell of a thing.” - -“It’s an awful thing,” Nick said. - -They did not say anything. George reached down for a towel and wiped the -counter. - -“I wonder what he did?” Nick said. - -“Double-crossed somebody. That’s what they kill them for.” - -“I’m going to get out of this town,” Nick said. - -“Yes,” said George. “That’s a good thing to do.” - -“I can’t stand to think about him waiting in the room and knowing he’s -going to get it. It’s too damned awful.” - -“Well,” said George, “you better not think about it.” - - - - - CHE TI DICE LA PATRIA? - - -THE road of the pass was hard and smooth and not yet dusty in the early -morning. Below were the hills with oak and chestnut trees, and far away -below was the sea. On the other side were snowy mountains. - -We came down from the pass through wooded country. There were bags of -charcoal piled beside the road, and through the trees we saw -charcoal-burners’ huts. It was Sunday and the road, rising and falling, -but always dropping away from the altitude of the pass, went through the -scrub woods and through villages. - -Outside the villages there were fields with vines. The fields were brown -and the vines coarse and thick. The houses were white, and in the -streets the men, in their Sunday clothes, were playing bowls. Against -the walls of some of the houses there were pear trees, their branches -candelabraed against the white walls. The pear trees had been sprayed, -and the walls of the houses were stained a metallic blue-green by the -spray vapor. There were small clearings around the villages where the -vines grew, and then the woods. - -In a village, twenty kilometres above Spezia, there was a crowd in the -square, and a young man carrying a suitcase came up to the car and asked -us to take him in to Spezia. - -“There are only two places, and they are occupied,” I said. We had an -old Ford coupé. - -“I will ride on the outside.” - -“You will be uncomfortable.” - -“That makes nothing. I must go to Spezia.” - -“Should we take him?” I asked Guy. - -“He seems to be going anyway,” Guy said. The young man handed in a -parcel through the window. - -“Look after this,” he said. Two men tied his suitcase on the back of the -car, above our suitcases. He shook hands with every one, explained that -to a Fascist and a man as used to travelling as himself there was no -discomfort, and climbed up on the running-board on the left-hand side of -the car, holding on inside, his right arm through the open window. - -“You can start,” he said. The crowd waved. He waved with his free hand. - -“What did he say?” Guy asked me. - -“That we could start.” - -“Isn’t he nice?” Guy said. - -The road followed a river. Across the river were mountains. The sun was -taking the frost out of the grass. It was bright and cold and the air -came cold through the open wind-shield. - -“How do you think he likes it out there?” Guy was looking up the road. -His view out of his side of the car was blocked by our guest. The young -man projected from the side of the car like the figurehead of a ship. He -had turned his coat collar up and pulled his hat down and his nose -looked cold in the wind. - -“Maybe he’ll get enough of it,” Guy said. “That’s the side our bum -tire’s on.” - -“Oh, he’d leave us if we blew out,” I said. “He wouldn’t get his -travelling-clothes dirty.” - -“Well, I don’t mind him,” Guy said—“except the way he leans out on the -turns.” - -The woods were gone; the road had left the river to climb; the radiator -was boiling; the young man looked annoyedly and suspiciously at the -steam and rusty water; the engine was grinding, with both Guy’s feet on -the first-speed pedal, up and up, back and forth and up, and, finally, -out level. The grinding stopped, and in the new quiet there was a great -churning bubbling in the radiator. We were at the top of the last range -above Spezia and the sea. The road descended with short, barely rounded -turns. Our guest hung out on the turns and nearly pulled the top-heavy -car over. - -“You can’t tell him not to,” I said to Guy. “It’s his sense of -self-preservation.” - -“The great Italian sense.” - -“The greatest Italian sense.” - -We came down around curves, through deep dust, the dust powdering the -olive trees. Spezia spread below along the sea. The road flattened -outside the town. Our guest put his head in the window. - -“I want to stop.” - -“Stop it,” I said to Guy. - -We slowed up, at the side of the road. The young man got down, went to -the back of the car and untied the suitcase. - -“I stop here, so you won’t get into trouble carrying passengers,” he -said. “My package.” - -I handed him the package. He reached in his pocket. - -“How much do I owe you?” - -“Nothing.” - -“Why not?” - -“I don’t know,” I said. - -“Then thanks,” the young man said, not “thank you,” or “thank you very -much,” or “thank you a thousand times,” all of which you formerly said -in Italy to a man when he handed you a time-table or explained about a -direction. The young man uttered the lowest form of the word “thanks” -and looked after us suspiciously as Guy started the car. I waved my hand -at him. He was too dignified to reply. We went on into Spezia. - -“That’s a young man that will go a long way in Italy,” I said to Guy. - -“Well,” said Guy, “he went twenty kilometres with us.” - - - A MEAL IN SPEZIA - -We came into Spezia looking for a place to eat. The street was wide and -the houses high and yellow. We followed the tram-track into the centre -of town. On the walls of the houses were stencilled eye-bugging -portraits of Mussolini, with hand-painted “vivas,” the double V in black -paint with drippings of paint down the wall. Side-streets went down to -the harbor. It was bright and the people were all out for Sunday. The -stone paving had been sprinkled and there were damp stretches in the -dust. We went close to the curb to avoid a tram. - -“Let’s eat somewhere simple,” Guy said. - -We stopped opposite two restaurant signs. We were standing across the -street and I was buying the papers. The two restaurants were side by -side. A woman standing in the doorway of one smiled at us and we crossed -the street and went in. - -It was dark inside and at the back of the room three girls were sitting -at a table with an old woman. Across from us, at another table, sat a -sailor. He sat there neither eating nor drinking. Further back, a young -man in a blue suit was writing at a table. His hair was pomaded and -shining and he was very smartly dressed and clean-cut looking. - -The light came through the doorway, and through the window where -vegetables, fruit, steaks, and chops were arranged in a show-case. A -girl came and took our order and another girl stood in the doorway. We -noticed that she wore nothing under her house dress. The girl who took -our order put her arm around Guy’s neck while we were looking at the -menu. There were three girls in all, and they all took turns going and -standing in the doorway. The old woman at the table in the back of the -room spoke to them and they sat down again with her. - -There was no doorway leading from the room except into the kitchen. A -curtain hung over it. The girl who had taken our order came in from the -kitchen with spaghetti. She put it on the table and brought a bottle of -red wine and sat down at the table. - -“Well,” I said to Guy, “you wanted to eat some place simple.” - -“This isn’t simple. This is complicated.” - -“What do you say?” asked the girl. “Are you Germans?” - -“South Germans,” I said. “The South Germans are a gentle, lovable -people.” - -“Don’t understand,” she said. - -“What’s the mechanics of this place?” Guy asked. “Do I have to let her -put her arm around my neck?” - -“Certainly,” I said. “Mussolini has abolished the brothels. This is a -restaurant.” - -The girl wore a one-piece dress. She leaned forward against the table -and put her hands on her breasts and smiled. She smiled better on one -side than on the other and turned the good side toward us. The charm of -the good side had been enhanced by some event which had smoothed the -other side of her nose in, as warm wax can be smoothed. Her nose, -however, did not look like warm wax. It was very cold and firmed, only -smoothed in. “You like me?” she asked Guy. - -“He adores you,” I said. “But he doesn’t speak Italian.” - -“Ich spreche Deutsch,” she said, and stroked Guy’s hair. - -“Speak to the lady in your native tongue, Guy.” - -“Where do you come from?” asked the lady. - -“Potsdam.” - -“And you will stay here now for a little while?” - -“In this so dear Spezia?” I asked. - -“Tell her we have to go,” said Guy. “Tell her we are very ill, and have -no money.” - -“My friend is a misogynist,” I said, “an old German misogynist.” - -“Tell him I love him.” - -I told him. - -“Will you shut your mouth and get us out of here?” Guy said. The lady -had placed another arm around his neck. “Tell him he is mine,” she said. -I told him. - -“Will you get us out of here?” - -“You are quarrelling,” the lady said. “You do not love one another.” - -“We are Germans,” I said proudly, “old South Germans.” - -“Tell him he is a beautiful boy,” the lady said. Guy is thirty-eight and -takes some pride in the fact that he is taken for a travelling salesman -in France. “You are a beautiful boy,” I said. - -“Who says so?” Guy asked, “you or her?” - -“She does. I’m just your interpreter. Isn’t that what you got me in on -this trip for?” - -“I’m glad it’s her,” said Guy. “I didn’t want to have to leave you here -too.” - -“I don’t know. Spezia’s a lovely place.” - -“Spezia,” the lady said. “You are talking about Spezia.” - -“Lovely place,” I said. - -“It is my country,” she said. “Spezia is my home and Italy is my -country.” - -“She says that Italy is her country.” - -“Tell her it looks like her country,” Guy said. - -“What have you for dessert?” I asked. - -“Fruit,” she said. “We have bananas.” - -“Bananas are all right,” Guy said. “They’ve got skins on.” - -“Oh, he takes bananas,” the lady said. She embraced Guy. - -“What does she say?” he asked, keeping his face out of the way. - -“She is pleased because you take bananas.” - -“Tell her I don’t take bananas.” - -“The Signor does not take bananas.” - -“Ah,” said the lady, crestfallen, “he doesn’t take bananas.” - -“Tell her I take a cold bath every morning,” Guy said. - -“The Signor takes a cold bath every morning.” - -“No understand,” the lady said. - -Across from us, the property sailor had not moved. No one in the place -paid any attention to him. - -“We want the bill,” I said. - -“Oh, no. You must stay.” - -“Listen,” the clean-cut young man said from the table where he was -writing, “let them go. These two are worth nothing.” - -The lady took my hand. “You won’t stay? You won’t ask him to stay?” - -“We have to go,” I said. “We have to get to Pisa, or if possible, -Firenze, to-night. We can amuse ourselves in those cities at the end of -the day. It is now the day. In the day we must cover distance.” - -“To stay a little while is nice.” - -“To travel is necessary during the light of day.” - -“Listen,” the clean-cut young man said. “Don’t bother to talk with these -two. I tell you they are worth nothing and I know.” - -“Bring us the bill,” I said. She brought the bill from the old woman and -went back and sat at the table. Another girl came in from the kitchen. -She walked the length of the room and stood in the doorway. - -“Don’t bother with these two,” the clean-cut young man said in a wearied -voice. “Come and eat. They are worth nothing.” - -We paid the bill and stood up. All the girls, the old woman, and the -clean-cut young man sat down at table together. The property sailor sat -with his head in his hands. No one had spoken to him all the time we -were at lunch. The girl brought us our change that the old woman counted -out for her and went back to her place at the table. We left a tip on -the table and went out. When we were seated in the car ready to start, -the girl came out and stood in the door. We started and I waved to her. -She did not wave, but stood there looking after us. - - - AFTER THE RAIN - -It was raining hard when we passed through the suburbs of Genoa and, -even going very slowly behind the tram-cars and the motor trucks, liquid -mud splashed on to the sidewalks, so that people stepped into doorways -as they saw us coming. In San Pier d’Arena, the industrial suburb -outside of Genoa, there is a wide street with two car-tracks and we -drove down the centre to avoid sending the mud on to the men going home -from work. On our left was the Mediterranean. There was a big sea -running and waves broke and the wind blew the spray against the car. A -river-bed that, when we had passed, going into Italy, had been wide, -stony and dry, was running brown, and up to the banks. The brown water -discolored the sea and as the waves thinned and cleared in breaking, the -light came through the yellow water and the crests, detached by the -wind, blew across the road. - -A big car passed us, going fast, and a sheet of muddy water rose up and -over our wind-shield and radiator. The automatic wind-shield cleaner -moved back and forth, spreading the film over the glass. We stopped and -ate lunch at Sestri. There was no heat in the restaurant and we kept our -hats and coats on. We could see the car outside, through the window. It -was covered with mud and was stopped beside some boats that had been -pulled up beyond the waves. In the restaurant you could see your breath. - -The _pasta asciuta_ was good; the wine tasted of alum, and we poured -water in it. Afterward the waiter brought beefsteak and fried potatoes. -A man and a woman sat at the far end of the restaurant. He was -middle-aged and she was young and wore black. All during the meal she -would blow out her breath in the cold damp air. The man would look at it -and shake his head. They ate without talking and the man held her hand -under the table. She was good-looking and they seemed very sad. They had -a travelling-bag with them. - -We had the papers and I read the account of the Shanghai fighting aloud -to Guy. After the meal, he left with the waiter in search for a place -which did not exist in the restaurant, and I cleaned off the -wind-shield, the lights and the license plates with a rag. Guy came back -and we backed the car out and started. The waiter had taken him across -the road and into an old house. The people in the house were suspicious -and the waiter had remained with Guy to see nothing was stolen. - -“Although I don’t know how, me not being a plumber, they expected me to -steal anything,” Guy said. - -As we came up on a headland beyond the town, the wind struck the car and -nearly tipped it over. - -“It’s good it blows us away from the sea,” Guy said. - -“Well,” I said, “they drowned Shelley somewhere along here.” - -“That was down by Viareggio,” Guy said. “Do you remember what we came to -this country for?” - -“Yes,” I said, “but we didn’t get it.” - -“We’ll be out of it to-night.” - -“If we can get past Ventimiglia.” - -“We’ll see. I don’t like to drive this coast at night.” It was early -afternoon and the sun was out. Below, the sea was blue with whitecaps -running toward Savona. Back, beyond the cape, the brown and blue waters -joined. Out ahead of us, a tramp steamer was going up the coast. - -“Can you still see Genoa?” Guy asked. - -“Oh, yes.” - -“That next big cape ought to put it out of sight.” - -“We’ll see it a long time yet. I can still see Portofino Cape behind -it.” - -Finally we could not see Genoa. I looked back as we came out and there -was only the sea, and below in the bay, a line of beach with -fishing-boats and above, on the side of the hill, a town and then capes -far down the coast. - -“It’s gone now,” I said to Guy. - -“Oh, it’s been gone a long time now.” - -“But we couldn’t be sure till we got way out.” - -There was a sign with a picture of an S-turn and Svolta Pericolosa. The -road curved around the headland and the wind blew through the crack in -the wind-shield. Below the cape was a flat stretch beside the sea. The -wind had dried the mud and the wheels were beginning to lift dust. On -the flat road we passed a Fascist riding a bicycle, a heavy revolver in -a holster on his back. He held the middle of the road on his bicycle and -we turned out for him. He looked up at us as we passed. Ahead there was -a railway crossing, and as we came toward it the gates went down. - -As we waited, the Fascist came up on his bicycle. The train went by and -Guy started the engine. - -“Wait,” the bicycle man shouted from behind the car. “Your number’s -dirty.” - -I got out with a rag. The number had been cleaned at lunch. - -“You can read it,” I said. - -“You think so?” - -“Read it.” - -“I cannot read it. It is dirty.” - -I wiped it off with the rag. - -“How’s that?” - -“Twenty-five lire.” - -“What?” I said. “You could have read it. It’s only dirty from the state -of the roads.” - -“You don’t like Italian roads?” - -“They are dirty.” - -“Fifty lire.” He spat in the road. “Your car is dirty and you are dirty -too.” - -“Good. And give me a receipt with your name.” - -He took out a receipt-book, made in duplicate, and perforated, so one -side could be given to the customer, and the other side filled in and -kept as a stub. There was no carbon to record what the customer’s ticket -said. - -“Give me fifty lire.” - -He wrote in indelible pencil, tore out the slip and handed it to me. I -read it. - -“This is for twenty-five lire.” - -“A mistake,” he said, and changed the twenty-five to fifty. - -“And now the other side. Make it fifty in the part you keep.” - -He smiled a beautiful Italian smile and wrote something on the receipt -stub, holding it so I could not see. - -“Go on,” he said, “before your number gets dirty again.” - -We drove for two hours after it was dark and slept in Mentone that -night. It seemed very cheerful and clean and sane and lovely. We had -driven from Ventimiglia to Pisa and Florence, across the Romagna to -Rimini, back through Forli, Imola, Bologna, Parma, Piacenza and Genoa, -to Ventimiglia again. The whole trip had only taken ten days. Naturally, -in such a short trip, we had no opportunity to see how things were with -the country or the people. - - - - - FIFTY GRAND - - -“HOW are you going yourself, Jack?” I asked him. - -“You seen this, Walcott?” he says. - -“Just in the gym.” - -“Well,” Jack says, “I’m going to need a lot of luck with that boy.” - -“He can’t hit you, Jack,” Soldier said. - -“I wish to hell he couldn’t.” - -“He couldn’t hit you with a handful of bird-shot.” - -“Bird-shot’d be all right,” Jack says. “I wouldn’t mind bird-shot any.” - -“He looks easy to hit,” I said. - -“Sure,” Jack says, “he ain’t going to last long. He ain’t going to last -like you and me, Jerry. But right now he’s got everything.” - -“You’ll left-hand him to death.” - -“Maybe,” Jack says. “Sure. I got a chance to.” - -“Handle him like you handled Kid Lewis.” - -“Kid Lewis,” Jack said. “That kike!” - -The three of us, Jack Brennan, Soldier Bartlett, and I were in -Handley’s. There were a couple of broads sitting at the next table to -us. They had been drinking. - -“What do you mean, kike?” one of the broads says. “What do you mean, -kike, you big Irish bum?” - -“Sure,” Jack says. “That’s it.” - -“Kikes,” this broad goes on. “They’re always talking about kikes, these -big Irishmen. What do you mean, kikes?” - -“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” - -“Kikes,” this broad goes on. “Whoever saw you ever buy a drink? Your -wife sews your pockets up every morning. These Irishmen and their kikes! -Ted Lewis could lick you too.” - -“Sure,” Jack says. “And you give away a lot of things free too, don’t -you?” - -We went out. That was Jack. He could say what he wanted to when he -wanted to say it. - -Jack started training out at Danny Hogan’s health-farm over in Jersey. -It was nice out there but Jack didn’t like it much. He didn’t like being -away from his wife and the kids, and he was sore and grouchy most of the -time. He liked me and we got along fine together; and he liked Hogan, -but after a while Soldier Bartlett commenced to get on his nerves. A -kidder gets to be an awful thing around a camp if his stuff goes sort of -sour. Soldier was always kidding Jack, just sort of kidding him all the -time. It wasn’t very funny and it wasn’t very good, and it began to get -to Jack. It was sort of stuff like this. Jack would finish up with the -weights and the bag and pull on the gloves. - -“You want to work?” he’d say to Soldier. - -“Sure. How you want me to work?” Soldier would ask. “Want me to treat -you rough like Walcott? Want me to knock you down a few times?” - -“That’s it,” Jack would say. He didn’t like it any, though. - -One morning we were all out on the road. We’d been out quite a way and -now we were coming back. We’d go along fast for three minutes and then -walk a minute, and then go fast for three minutes again. Jack wasn’t -ever what you would call a sprinter. He’d move around fast enough in the -ring if he had to, but he wasn’t any too fast on the road. All the time -we were walking Soldier was kidding him. We came up the hill to the -farmhouse. - -“Well,” says Jack, “you better go back to town, Soldier.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“You better go back to town and stay there.” - -“What’s the matter?” - -“I’m sick of hearing you talk.” - -“Yes?” says Soldier. - -“Yes,” says Jack. - -“You’ll be a damn sight sicker when Walcott gets through with you.” - -“Sure,” says Jack, “maybe I will. But I know I’m sick of you.” - -So Soldier went off on the train to town that same morning. I went down -with him to the train. He was good and sore. - -“I was just kidding him,” he said. We were waiting on the platform. “He -can’t pull that stuff with me, Jerry.” - -“He’s nervous and crabby,” I said. “He’s a good fellow, Soldier.” - -“The hell he is. The hell he’s ever been a good fellow.” - -“Well,” I said, “so long, Soldier.” - -The train had come in. He climbed up with his bag. - -“So long, Jerry,” he says. “You be in town before the fight?” - -“I don’t think so.” - -“See you then.” - -He went in and the conductor swung up and the train went out. I rode -back to the farm in the cart. Jack was on the porch writing a letter to -his wife. The mail had come and I got the papers and went over on the -other side of the porch and sat down to read. Hogan came out the door -and walked over to me. - -“Did he have a jam with Soldier?” - -“Not a jam,” I said. “He just told him to go back to town.” - -“I could see it coming,” Hogan said. “He never liked Soldier much.” - -“No. He don’t like many people.” - -“He’s a pretty cold one,” Hogan said. - -“Well, he’s always been fine to me.” - -“Me too,” Hogan said. “I got no kick on him. He’s a cold one, though.” - -Hogan went in through the screen door and I sat there on the porch and -read the papers. It was just starting to get fall weather and it’s nice -country there in Jersey, up in the hills, and after I read the paper -through I sat there and looked out at the country and the road down -below against the woods with cars going along it, lifting the dust up. -It was fine weather and pretty nice-looking country. Hogan came to the -door and I said, “Say, Hogan, haven’t you got anything to shoot out -here?” - -“No,” Hogan said. “Only sparrows.” - -“Seen the paper?” I said to Hogan. - -“What’s in it?” - -“Sande booted three of them in yesterday.” - -“I got that on the telephone last night.” - -“You follow them pretty close, Hogan?” I asked. - -“Oh, I keep in touch with them,” Hogan said. - -“How about Jack?” I says. “Does he still play them?” - -“Him?” said Hogan. “Can you see him doing it?” - -Just then Jack came around the corner with the letter in his hand. He’s -wearing a sweater and an old pair of pants and boxing shoes. - -“Got a stamp, Hogan?” he asks. - -“Give me the letter,” Hogan said. “I’ll mail it for you.” - -“Say, Jack,” I said, “didn’t you used to play the ponies?” - -“Sure.” - -“I knew you did. I knew I used to see you out at Sheepshead.” - -“What did you lay off them for?” Hogan asked. - -“Lost money.” - -Jack sat down on the porch by me. He leaned back against a post. He shut -his eyes in the sun. - -“Want a chair?” Hogan asked. - -“No,” said Jack. “This is fine.” - -“It’s a nice day,” I said. “It’s pretty nice out in the country.” - -“I’d a damn sight rather be in town with the wife.” - -“Well, you only got another week.” - -“Yes,” Jack says. “That’s so.” - -We sat there on the porch. Hogan was inside at the office. - -“What do you think about the shape I’m in?” Jack asked me. - -“Well, you can’t tell,” I said. “You got a week to get around into -form.” - -“Don’t stall me.” - -“Well,” I said, “you’re not right.” - -“I’m not sleeping,” Jack said. - -“You’ll be all right in a couple of days.” - -“No,” says Jack, “I got the insomnia.” - -“What’s on your mind?” - -“I miss the wife.” - -“Have her come out.” - -“No. I’m too old for that.” - -“We’ll take a long walk before you turn in and get you good and tired.” - -“Tired!” Jack says. “I’m tired all the time.” - -He was that way all week. He wouldn’t sleep at night and he’d get up in -the morning feeling that way, you know, when you can’t shut your hands. - -“He’s stale as poorhouse cake,” Hogan said. “He’s nothing.” - -“I never seen Walcott,” I said. - -“He’ll kill him,” said Hogan. “He’ll tear him in two.” - -“Well,” I said, “everybody’s got to get it sometime.” - -“Not like this, though,” Hogan said. “They’ll think he never trained. It -gives the farm a black eye.” - -“You hear what the reporters said about him?” - -“Didn’t I! They said he was awful. They said they oughtn’t to let him -fight.” - -“Well,” I said, “they’re always wrong, ain’t they?” - -“Yes,” said Hogan. “But this time they’re right.” - -“What the hell do they know about whether a man’s right or not?” - -“Well,” said Hogan, “they’re not such fools.” - -“All they did was pick Willard at Toledo. This Lardner, he’s so wise -now, ask him about when he picked Willard at Toledo.” - -“Aw, he wasn’t out,” Hogan said. “He only writes the big fights.” - -“I don’t care who they are,” I said. “What the hell do they know? They -can write maybe, but what the hell do they know?” - -“You don’t think Jack’s in any shape, do you?” Hogan asked. - -“No. He’s through. All he needs is to have Corbett pick him to win for -it to be all over.” - -“Well, Corbett’ll pick him,” Hogan says. - -“Sure. He’ll pick him.” - -That night Jack didn’t sleep any either. The next morning was the last -day before the fight. After breakfast we were out on the porch again. - -“What do you think about, Jack, when you can’t sleep?” I said. - -“Oh, I worry,” Jack says. “I worry about property I got up in the Bronx, -I worry about property I got in Florida. I worry about the kids. I worry -about the wife. Sometimes I think about fights. I think about that kike -Ted Lewis and I get sore. I got some stocks and I worry about them. What -the hell don’t I think about?” - -“Well,” I said, “to-morrow night it’ll all be over.” - -“Sure,” said Jack. “That always helps a lot, don’t it? That just fixes -everything all up, I suppose. Sure.” - -He was sore all day. We didn’t do any work. Jack just moved around a -little to loosen up. He shadow-boxed a few rounds. He didn’t even look -good doing that. He skipped the rope a little while. He couldn’t sweat. - -“He’d be better not to do any work at all,” Hogan said. We were standing -watching him skip rope. “Don’t he ever sweat at all any more?” - -“He can’t sweat.” - -“Do you suppose he’s got the con? He never had any trouble making -weight, did he?” - -“No, he hasn’t got any con. He just hasn’t got anything inside any -more.” - -“He ought to sweat,” said Hogan. - -Jack came over, skipping the rope. He was skipping up and down in front -of us, forward and back, crossing his arms every third time. - -“Well,” he says. “What are you buzzards talking about?” - -“I don’t think you ought to work any more,” Hogan says. “You’ll be -stale.” - -“Wouldn’t that be awful?” Jack says and skips away down the floor, -slapping the rope hard. - -That afternoon John Collins showed up out at the farm. Jack was up in -his room. John, came out in a car from town. He had a couple of friends -with him. The car stopped and they all got out. - -“Where’s Jack?” John asked me. - -“Up in his room, lying down.” - -“Lying down?” - -“Yes,” I said. - -“How is he?” - -I looked at the two fellows that were with John. - -“They’re friends of his,” John said. - -“He’s pretty bad,” I said. - -“What’s the matter with him?” - -“He don’t sleep.” - -“Hell,” said John. “That Irishman could never sleep.” - -“He isn’t right,” I said. - -“Hell,” John said. “He’s never right. I’ve had him for ten years and -he’s never been right yet.” - -The fellows who were with him laughed. - -“I want you to shake hands with Mr. Morgan and Mr. Steinfelt,” John -said. “This is Mr. Doyle. He’s been training Jack.” - -“Glad to meet you,” I said. - -“Let’s go up and see the boy,” the fellow called Morgan said. - -“Let’s have a look at him,” Steinfelt said. - -We all went upstairs. - -“Where’s Hogan?” John asked. - -“He’s out in the barn with a couple of his customers,” I said. - -“He got many people out here now?” John asked. - -“Just two.” - -“Pretty quiet, ain’t it?” Morgan said. - -“Yes,” I said. “It’s pretty quiet.” - -We were outside Jack’s room. John knocked on the door. There wasn’t any -answer. - -“Maybe he’s asleep,” I said. - -“What the hell’s he sleeping in the daytime for?” - -John turned the handle and we all went in. Jack was lying asleep on the -bed. He was face down and his face was in the pillow. Both his arms were -around the pillow. - -“Hey, Jack!” John said to him. - -Jack’s head moved a little on the pillow. “Jack!” John says, leaning -over him. Jack just dug a little deeper in the pillow. John touched him -on the shoulder. Jack sat up and looked at us. He hadn’t shaved and he -was wearing an old sweater. - -“Christ! Why can’t you let me sleep?” he says to John. - -“Don’t be sore,” John says. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” - -“Oh no,” Jack says. “Of course not.” - -“You know Morgan and Steinfelt,” John said. - -“Glad to see you,” Jack says. - -“How do you feel, Jack,” Morgan asks him. - -“Fine,” Jack says. “How the hell would I feel?” - -“You look fine,” Steinfelt says. - -“Yes, don’t I,” says Jack. “Say,” he says to John. “You’re my manager. -You get a big enough cut. Why the hell don’t you come out here when the -reporters was out! You want Jerry and me to talk to them?” - -“I had Lew fighting in Philadelphia,” John said. - -“What the hell’s that to me?” Jack says. “You’re my manager. You get a -big enough cut, don’t you? You aren’t making me any money in -Philadelphia, are you? Why the hell aren’t you out here when I ought to -have you?” - -“Hogan was here.” - -“Hogan,” Jack says. “Hogan’s as dumb as I am.” - -“Soldier Bathlett was out here wukking with you for a while, wasn’t he?” -Steinfelt said to change the subject. - -“Yes, he was out here,” Jack says. “He was out here all right.” - -“Say, Jerry,” John said to me. “Would you go and find Hogan and tell him -we want to see him in about half an hour?” - -“Sure,” I said. - -“Why the hell can’t he stick around?” Jack says. “Stick around, Jerry.” - -Morgan and Steinfelt looked at each other. - -“Quiet down, Jack,” John said to him. - -“I better go find Hogan,” I said. - -“All right, if you want to go,” Jack says. “None of these guys are going -to send you away, though.” - -“I’ll go find Hogan,” I said. - -Hogan was out in the gym in the barn. He had a couple of his health-farm -patients with the gloves on. They neither one wanted to hit the other, -for fear the other would come back and hit him. - -“That’ll do,” Hogan said when he saw me come in. “You can stop the -slaughter. You gentlemen take a shower and Bruce will rub you down.” - -They climbed out through the ropes and Hogan came over to me. - -“John Collins is out with a couple of friends to see Jack,” I said. - -“I saw them come up in the car.” - -“Who are the two fellows with John?” - -“They’re what you call wise boys,” Hogan said. “Don’t you know them -two?” - -“No,” I said. - -“That’s Happy Steinfelt and Lew Morgan. They got a pool-room.” - -“I been away a long time,” I said. - -“Sure,” said Hogan. “That Happy Steinfelt’s a big operator.” - -“I’ve heard his name,” I said. - -“He’s a pretty smooth boy,” Hogan said. “They’re a couple of -sharpshooters.” - -“Well,” I said. “They want to see us in half an hour.” - -“You mean they don’t want to see us until a half an hour?” - -“That’s it.” - -“Come on in the office,” Hogan said. “To hell with those sharpshooters.” - -After about thirty minutes or so Hogan and I went upstairs. We knocked -on Jack’s door. They were talking inside the room. - -“Wait a minute,” somebody said. - -“To hell with that stuff,” Hogan said. “When you want to see me I’m down -in the office.” - -We heard the door unlock. Steinfelt opened it. - -“Come on in, Hogan,” he says. “We’re all going to have a drink.” - -“Well,” says Hogan. “That’s something.” - -We went in. Jack was sitting on the bed. John and Morgan were sitting on -a couple of chairs. Steinfelt was standing up. - -“You’re a pretty mysterious lot of boys,” Hogan said. - -“Hello, Danny,” John says. - -“Hello, Danny,” Morgan says and shakes hands. - -Jack doesn’t say anything. He just sits there on the bed. He ain’t with -the others. He’s all by himself. He was wearing an old blue jersey and -pants and had on boxing shoes. He needed a shave. Steinfelt and Morgan -were dressers. John was quite a dresser too. Jack sat there looking -Irish and tough. - -Steinfelt brought out a bottle and Hogan brought in some glasses and -everybody had a drink. Jack and I took one and the rest of them went on -and had two or three each. - -“Better save some for your ride back,” Hogan said. - -“Don’t you worry. We got plenty,” Morgan said. - -Jack hadn’t drunk anything since the one drink. He was standing up and -looking at them. Morgan was sitting on the bed where Jack had sat. - -“Have a drink, Jack,” John said and handed him the glass and the bottle. - -“No,” Jack said, “I never liked to go to these wakes.” - -They all laughed. Jack didn’t laugh. - -They were all feeling pretty good when they left. Jack stood on the -porch when they got into the car. They waved to him. - -“So long,” Jack said. - -We had supper. Jack didn’t say anything all during the meal except, -“Will you pass me this?” or “Will you pass me that?” The two health-farm -patients ate at the same table with us. They were pretty nice fellows. -After we finished eating we went out on the porch. It was dark early. - -“Like to take a walk, Jerry?” Jack asked. - -“Sure,” I said. - -We put on our coats and started out. It was quite a way down to the main -road and then we walked along the main road about a mile and a half. -Cars kept going by and we would pull out to the side until they were -past. Jack didn’t say anything. After we had stepped out into the bushes -to let a big car go by Jack said, “To hell with this walking. Come on -back to Hogan’s.” - -We went along a side road that cut up over the hill and cut across the -fields back to Hogan’s. We could see the lights of the house up on the -hill. We came around to the front of the house and there standing in the -doorway was Hogan. - -“Have a good walk?” Hogan asked. - -“Oh, fine,” Jack said. “Listen, Hogan. Have you got any liquor?” - -“Sure,” says Hogan. “What’s the idea?” - -“Send it up to the room,” Jack says. “I’m going to sleep to-night.” - -“You’re the doctor,” Hogan says. - -“Come on up to the room, Jerry,” Jack says. - -Upstairs Jack sat on the bed with his head in his hands. - -“Ain’t it a life?” Jack says. - -Hogan brought in a quart of liquor and two glasses. - -“Want some ginger-ale?” - -“What do you think I want to do, get sick?” - -“I just asked you,” said Hogan. - -“Have a drink?” said Jack. - -“No, thanks,” said Hogan. He went out. - -“How about you, Jerry?” - -“I’ll have one with you,” I said. - -Jack poured out a couple of drinks. “Now,” he said, “I want to take it -slow and easy.” - -“Put some water in it,” I said. - -“Yes,” Jack said. “I guess that’s better.” - -We had a couple of drinks without saying anything. Jack started to pour -me another. - -“No,” I said, “that’s all I want.” - -“All right,” Jack said. He poured himself out another big shot and put -water in it. He was lighting up a little. - -“That was a fine bunch out here this afternoon,” he said. “They don’t -take any chances, those two.” - -Then a little later, “Well,” he says, “they’re right. What the hell’s -the good in taking chances?” - -“Don’t you want another, Jerry?” he said. “Come on, drink along with -me.” - -“I don’t need it, Jack,” I said. “I feel all right.” - -“Just have one more,” Jack said. It was softening him up. - -“All right,” I said. - -Jack poured one for me and another big one for himself. - -“You know,” he said, “I like liquor pretty well. If I hadn’t been boxing -I would have drunk quite a lot.” - -“Sure,” I said. - -“You know,” he said, “I missed a lot, boxing.” - -“You made plenty of money.” - -“Sure, that’s what I’m after. You know I miss a lot, Jerry.” - -“How do you mean?” - -“Well,” he says, “like about the wife. And being away from home so much. -It don’t do my girls any good. ‘Whose your old man?’ some of those -society kids’ll say to them. ‘My old man’s Jack Brennan.’ That don’t do -them any good.” - -“Hell,” I said, “all that makes a difference is if they got dough.” - -“Well,” says Jack, “I got the dough for them all right.” - -He poured out another drink. The bottle was about empty. - -“Put some water in it,” I said. Jack poured in some water. - -“You know,” he says, “you ain’t got any idea how I miss the wife.” - -“Sure.” - -“You ain’t got any idea. You can’t have an idea what it’s like.” - -“It ought to be better out in the country than in town.” - -“With me now,” Jack said, “it don’t make any difference where I am. You -can’t have an idea what it’s like.” - -“Have another drink.” - -“Am I getting soused? Do I talk funny?” - -“You’re coming on all right.” - -“You can’t have an idea what it’s like. They ain’t anybody can have an -idea what it’s like.” - -“Except the wife,” I said. - -“She knows,” Jack said. “She knows all right. She knows. You bet she -knows.” - -“Put some water in that,” I said. - -“Jerry,” says Jack, “you can’t have an idea what it gets to be like.” - -He was good and drunk. He was looking at me steady. His eyes were sort -of too steady. - -“You’ll sleep all right,” I said. - -“Listen, Jerry,” Jack says. “You want to make some money? Get some money -down on Walcott.” - -“Yes?” - -“Listen, Jerry,” Jack put down the glass. “I’m not drunk now, see? You -know what I’m betting on him? Fifty grand.” - -“That’s a lot of dough.” - -“Fifty grand,” Jack says, “at two to one. I’ll get twenty-five thousand -bucks. Get some money on him, Jerry.” - -“It sounds good,” I said. - -“How can I beat him?” Jack says. “It ain’t crooked. How can I beat him? -Why not make money on it?” - -“Put some water in that,” I said. - -“I’m through after this fight,” Jack says. “I’m through with it. I got -to take a beating. Why shouldn’t I make money on it?” - -“Sure.” - -“I ain’t slept for a week,” Jack says. “All night I lay awake and worry -my can off. I can’t sleep, Jerry. You ain’t got an idea what it’s like -when you can’t sleep.” - -“Sure.” - -“I can’t sleep. That’s all. I just can’t sleep. What’s the use of taking -care of yourself all these years when you can’t sleep?” - -“It’s bad.” - -“You ain’t got an idea what it’s like, Jerry, when you can’t sleep.” - -“Put some water in that,” I said. - -Well, about eleven o’clock Jack passes out and I put him to bed. Finally -he’s so he can’t keep from sleeping. I helped him get his clothes off -and got him into bed. - -“You’ll sleep all right, Jack,” I said. - -“Sure,” Jack says, “I’ll sleep now.” - -“Good-night, Jack,” I said. - -“Good-night, Jerry,” Jack says. “You’re the only friend I got.” - -“Oh, hell,” I said. - -“You’re the only friend I got,” Jack says, “the only friend I got.” - -“Go to sleep,” I said. - -“I’ll sleep,” Jack says. - -Downstairs Hogan was sitting at the desk in the office reading the -papers. He looked up. “Well, you get your boy friend to sleep?” he asks. - -“He’s off.” - -“It’s better for him than not sleeping,” Hogan said. - -“Sure.” - -“You’d have a hell of a time explaining that to these sport writers -though,” Hogan said. - -“Well, I’m going to bed myself,” I said. - -“Good-night,” said Hogan. - -In the morning I came downstairs about eight o’clock and got some -breakfast. Hogan had his two customers out in the barn doing exercises. -I went out and watched them. - -“One! Two! Three! Four!” Hogan was counting for them. “Hello, Jerry,” he -said. “Is Jack up yet?” - -“No. He’s still sleeping.” - -I went back to my room and packed up to go in to town. About nine-thirty -I heard Jack getting up in the next room. When I heard him go downstairs -I went down after him. Jack was sitting at the breakfast table. Hogan -had come in and was standing beside the table. - -“How do you feel, Jack?” I asked him. - -“Not so bad.” - -“Sleep well?” Hogan asked. - -“I slept all right,” Jack said. “I got a thick tongue but I ain’t got a -head.” - -“Good,” said Hogan. “That was good liquor.” - -“Put it on the bill,” Jack says. - -“What time you want to go into town?” Hogan asked. - -“Before lunch,” Jack says. “The eleven o’clock train.” - -“Sit down, Jerry,” Jack said. Hogan went out. - -I sat down at the table. Jack was eating a grape-fruit. When he’d find a -seed he’d spit it out in the spoon and dump it on the plate. - -“I guess I was pretty stewed last night,” he started. - -“You drank some liquor.” - -“I guess I said a lot of fool things.” - -“You weren’t bad.” - -“Where’s Hogan?” he asked. He was through with the grape-fruit. - -“He’s out in front in the office.” - -“What did I say about betting on the fight?” Jack asked. He was holding -the spoon and sort of poking at the grape-fruit with it. - -The girl came in with some ham and eggs and took away the grape-fruit. - -“Bring me another glass of milk,” Jack said to her. She went out. - -“You said you had fifty grand on Walcott,” I said. - -“That’s right,” Jack said. - -“That’s a lot of money.” - -“I don’t feel too good about it,” Jack said. - -“Something might happen.” - -“No,” Jack said. “He wants the title bad. They’ll be shooting with him -all right.” - -“You can’t ever tell.” - -“No. He wants the title. It’s worth a lot of money to him.” - -“Fifty grand is a lot of money,” I said. - -“It’s business,” said Jack. “I can’t win. You know I can’t win anyway.” - -“As long as you’re in there you got a chance.” - -“No,” Jack says. “I’m all through. It’s just business.” - -“How do you feel?” - -“Pretty good,” Jack said. “The sleep was what I needed.” - -“You might go good.” - -“I’ll give them a good show,” Jack said. - -After breakfast Jack called up his wife on the long-distance. He was -inside the booth telephoning. - -“That’s the first time he’s called her up since he’s out here,” Hogan -said. - -“He writes her every day.” - -“Sure,” Hogan says, “a letter only costs two cents.” - -Hogan said good-by to us and Bruce, the nigger rubber, drove us down to -the train in the cart. - -“Good-by, Mr. Brennan,” Bruce said at the train, “I sure hope you knock -his can off.” - -“So long,” Jack said. He gave Bruce two dollars. Bruce had worked on him -a lot. He looked kind of disappointed. Jack saw me looking at Bruce -holding the two dollars. - -“It’s all in the bill,” he said. “Hogan charged me for the rubbing.” - -On the train going into town Jack didn’t talk. He sat in the corner of -the seat with his ticket in his hat-band and looked out of the window. -Once he turned and spoke to me. - -“I told the wife I’d take a room at the Shelby to-night,” he said. “It’s -just around the corner from the Garden. I can go up to the house -to-morrow morning.” - -“That’s a good idea,” I said. “Your wife ever see you fight, Jack?” - -“No,” Jack says. “She never seen me fight.” - -I thought he must be figuring on taking an awful beating if he doesn’t -want to go home afterward. In town we took a taxi up to the Shelby. A -boy came out and took our bags and we went in to the desk. - -“How much are the rooms?” Jack asked. - -“We only have double rooms,” the clerk says. “I can give you a nice -double room for ten dollars.” - -“That’s too steep.” - -“I can give you a double room for seven dollars.” - -“With a bath?” - -“Certainly.” - -“You might as well bunk with me, Jerry,” Jack says. - -“Oh,” I said, “I’ll sleep down at my brother-in-law’s.” - -“I don’t mean for you to pay it,” Jack says. “I just want to get my -money’s worth.” - -“Will you register, please?” the clerk says. He looked at the names. -“Number 238, Mister Brennan.” - -We went up in the elevator. It was a nice big room with two beds and a -door opening into a bath-room. - -“This is pretty good,” Jack says. - -The boy who brought us up pulled up the curtains and brought in our -bags. Jack didn’t make any move, so I gave the boy a quarter. We washed -up and Jack said we better go out and get something to eat. - -We ate a lunch at Jimmey Handley’s place. Quite a lot of the boys were -there. When we were about half through eating, John came in and sat down -with us. Jack didn’t talk much. - -“How are you on the weight, Jack?” John asked him. Jack was putting away -a pretty good lunch. - -“I could make it with my clothes on,” Jack said. He never had to worry -about taking off weight. He was a natural welter-weight and he’d never -gotten fat. He’d lost weight out at Hogan’s. - -“Well, that’s one thing you never had to worry about,” John said. - -“That’s one thing,” Jack says. - -We went around to the garden to weigh in after lunch. The match was made -at a hundred forty-seven pounds at three o’clock. Jack stepped on the -scales with a towel around him. The bar didn’t move. Walcott had just -weighed and was standing with a lot of people around him. - -“Let’s see what you weigh, Jack,” Freedman, Walcott’s manager said. - -“All right, weigh _him_ then,” Jack jerked his head toward Walcott. - -“Drop the towel,” Freedman said. - -“What do you make it?” Jack asked the fellows who were weighing. - -“One hundred and forty-three pounds,” the fat man who was weighing said. - -“You’re down fine, Jack,” Freedman says. - -“Weigh _him_,” Jack says. - -Walcott came over. He was a blond with wide shoulders and arms like a -heavyweight. He didn’t have much legs. Jack stood about half a head -taller than he did. - -“Hello, Jack,” he said. His face was plenty marked up. - -“Hello,” said Jack. “How you feel?” - -“Good,” Walcott says. He dropped the towel from around his waist and -stood on the scales. He had the widest shoulders and back you ever saw. - -“One hundred and forty-six pounds and twelve ounces.” - -Walcott stepped off and grinned at Jack. - -“Well,” John says to him, “Jack’s spotting you about four pounds.” - -“More than that when I come in, kid,” Walcott says. “I’m going to go and -eat now.” - -We went back and Jack got dressed. “He’s a pretty tough-looking boy,” -Jack says to me. - -“He looks as though he’d been hit plenty of times.” - -“Oh, yes,” Jack says. “He ain’t hard to hit.” - -“Where are you going?” John asked when Jack was dressed. - -“Back to the hotel,” Jack says. “You looked after everything?” - -“Yes,” John says. “It’s all looked after.” - -“I’m going to lie down a while,” Jack says. - -“I’ll come around for you about a quarter to seven and we’ll go and -eat.” - -“All right.” - -Up at the hotel Jack took off his shoes and his coat and lay down for a -while. I wrote a letter. I looked over a couple of times and Jack wasn’t -sleeping. He was lying perfectly still but every once in a while his -eyes would open. Finally he sits up. - -“Want to play some cribbage, Jerry?” he says. - -“Sure,” I said. - -He went over to his suitcase and got out the cards and the cribbage -board. We played cribbage and he won three dollars off me. John knocked -at the door and came in. - -“Want to play some cribbage, John?” Jack asked him. - -John put his kelly down on the table. It was all wet. His coat was wet -too. - -“Is it raining?” Jack asks. - -“It’s pouring,” John says. “The taxi I had, got tied up in the traffic -and I got out and walked.” - -“Come on, play some cribbage,” Jack says. - -“You ought to go and eat.” - -“No,” says Jack. “I don’t want to eat yet.” - -So they played cribbage for about half an hour and Jack won a dollar and -a half off him. - -“Well, I suppose we got to go eat,” Jack says. He went to the window and -looked out. - -“Is it still raining?” - -“Yes.” - -“Let’s eat in the hotel,” John says. - -“All right,” Jack says, “I’ll play you once more to see who pays for the -meal.” - -After a little while Jack gets up and says, “You buy the meal, John,” -and we went downstairs and ate in the big dining-room. - -After we ate we went upstairs and Jack played cribbage with John again -and won two dollars and a half off him. Jack was feeling pretty good. -John had a bag with him with all his stuff in it. Jack took off his -shirt and collar and put on a jersey and a sweater, so he wouldn’t catch -cold when he came out, and put his ring clothes and his bathrobe in a -bag. - -“You all ready?” John asks him. “I’ll call up and have them get a taxi.” - -Pretty soon the telephone rang and they said the taxi was waiting. - -We rode down in the elevator and went out through the lobby, and got in -a taxi and rode around to the Garden. It was raining hard but there was -a lot of people outside on the streets. The Garden was sold out. As we -came in on our way to the dressing-room I saw how full it was. It looked -like half a mile down to the ring. It was all dark. Just the lights over -the ring. - -“It’s a good thing, with this rain, they didn’t try and pull this fight -in the ball park,” John said. - -“They got a good crowd,” Jack says. - -“This is a fight that would draw a lot more than the Garden could hold.” - -“You can’t tell about the weather,” Jack says. - -John came to the door of the dressing-room and poked his head in. Jack -was sitting there with his bathrobe on, he had his arms folded and was -looking at the floor. John had a couple of handlers with him. They -looked over his shoulder. Jack looked up. - -“Is he in?” he asked. - -“He’s just gone down,” John said. - -We started down. Walcott was just getting into the ring. The crowd gave -him a big hand. He climbed through between the ropes and put his two -fists together and smiled, and shook them at the crowd, first at one -side of the ring, then at the other, and then sat down. Jack got a good -hand coming down through the crowd. Jack is Irish and the Irish always -get a pretty good hand. An Irishman don’t draw in New York like a Jew or -an Italian but they always get a good hand. Jack climbed up and bent -down to go through the ropes and Walcott came over from his corner and -pushed the rope down for Jack to go through. The crowd thought that was -wonderful. Walcott put his hand on Jack’s shoulder and they stood there -just for a second. - -“So you’re going to be one of these popular champions,” Jack says to -him. “Take your goddam hand off my shoulder.” - -“Be yourself,” Walcott says. - -This is all great for the crowd. How gentlemanly the boys are before the -fight! How they wish each other luck! - -Solly Freedman came over to our corner while Jack is bandaging his hands -and John is over in Walcott’s corner. Jack puts his thumb through the -slit in the bandage and then wrapped his hand nice and smooth. I taped -it around the wrist and twice across the knuckles. - -“Hey,” Freedman says. “Where do you get all that tape?” - -“Feel of it,” Jack says. “It’s soft, ain’t it? Don’t be a hick.” - -Freedman stands there all the time while Jack bandages the other hand, -and one of the boys that’s going to handle him brings the gloves and I -pull them on and work them around. - -“Say, Freedman,” Jack asks, “what nationality is this Walcott?” - -“I don’t know,” Solly says. “He’s some sort of a Dane.” - -“He’s a Bohemian,” the lad who brought the gloves said. - -The referee called them out to the centre of the ring and Jack walks -out. Walcott comes out smiling. They met and the referee put his arm on -each of their shoulders. - -“Hello, popularity,” Jack says to Walcott. - -“Be yourself.” - -“What do you call yourself ‘Walcott’ for?” Jack says. “Didn’t you know -he was a nigger?” - -“Listen—” says the referee, and he gives them the same old line. Once -Walcott interrupts him. He grabs Jack’s arm and says, “Can I hit when -he’s got me like this?” - -“Keep your hands off me,” Jack says. “There ain’t no moving-pictures of -this.” - -They went back to their corners. I lifted the bathrobe off Jack and he -leaned on the ropes and flexed his knees a couple of times and scuffed -his shoes in the rosin. The gong rang and Jack turned quick and went -out. Walcott came toward him and they touched gloves and as soon as -Walcott dropped his hands Jack jumped his left into his face twice. -There wasn’t anybody ever boxed better than Jack. Walcott was after him, -going forward all the time with his chin on his chest. He’s a hooker and -he carries his hands pretty low. All he knows is to get in there and -sock. But every time he gets in there close, Jack has the left hand in -his face. It’s just as though it’s automatic. Jack just raises the left -hand up and it’s in Walcott’s face. Three or four times Jack brings the -right over but Walcott gets it on the shoulder or high up on the head. -He’s just like all these hookers. The only thing he’s afraid of is -another one of the same kind. He’s covered everywhere you can hurt him. -He don’t care about a left-hand in his face. - -After about four rounds Jack has him bleeding bad and his face all cut -up, but every time Walcott’s got in close he’s socked so hard he’s got -two big red patches on both sides just below Jack’s ribs. Every time he -gets in close, Jack ties him up, then gets one hand loose and uppercuts -him, but when Walcott gets his hands loose he socks Jack in the body so -they can hear it outside in the street. He’s a socker. - -It goes along like that for three rounds more. They don’t talk any. -They’re working all the time. We worked over Jack plenty too, in between -the rounds. He don’t look good at all but he never does much work in the -ring. He don’t move around much and that left-hand is just automatic. -It’s just like it was connected with Walcott’s face and Jack just had to -wish it in every time. Jack is always calm in close and he doesn’t waste -any juice. He knows everything about working in close too and he’s -getting away with a lot of stuff. While they were in our corner I -watched him tie Walcott up, get his right hand loose, turn it and come -up with an uppercut that got Walcott’s nose with the heel of the glove. -Walcott was bleeding bad and leaned his nose on Jack’s shoulder so as to -give Jack some of it too, and Jack sort of lifted his shoulder sharp and -caught him against the nose, and then brought down the right hand and -did the same thing again. - -Walcott was sore as hell. By the time they’d gone five rounds he hated -Jack’s guts. Jack wasn’t sore; that is, he wasn’t any sorer than he -always was. He certainly did used to make the fellows he fought hate -boxing. That was why he hated Kid Lewis so. He never got the Kid’s goat. -Kid Lewis always had about three new dirty things Jack couldn’t do. Jack -was as safe as a church all the time he was in there, as long as he was -strong. He certainly was treating Walcott rough. The funny thing was it -looked as though Jack was an open classic boxer. That was because he had -all that stuff too. - -After the seventh round Jack says, “My left’s getting heavy.” - -From then he started to take a beating. It didn’t show at first. But -instead of him running the fight it was Walcott was running it, instead -of being safe all the time now he was in trouble. He couldn’t keep him -out with the left hand now. It looked as though it was the same as ever, -only now instead of Walcott’s punches just missing him they were just -hitting him. He took an awful beating in the body. - -“What’s the round?” Jack asked. - -“The eleventh.” - -“I can’t stay,” Jack says. “My legs are going bad.” - -Walcott had been just hitting him for a long time. It was like a -baseball catcher pulls the ball and takes some of the shock off. From -now on Walcott commenced to land solid. He certainly was a -socking-machine. Jack was just trying to block everything now. It didn’t -show what an awful beating he was taking. In between the rounds I worked -on his legs. The muscles would flutter under my hands all the time I was -rubbing them. He was sick as hell. - -“How’s it go?” he asked John, turning around, his face all swollen. - -“It’s his fight.” - -“I think I can last,” Jack says. “I don’t want this bohunk to stop me.” - -It was going just the way he thought it would. He knew he couldn’t beat -Walcott. He wasn’t strong any more. He was all right though. His money -was all right and now he wanted to finish it off right to please -himself. He didn’t want to be knocked out. - -The gong rang and we pushed him out. He went out slow. Walcott came -right out after him. Jack put the left in his face and Walcott took it, -came in under it and started working on Jack’s body. Jack tried to tie -him up and it was just like trying to hold on to a buzz-saw. Jack broke -away from it and missed with the right. Walcott clipped him with a -left-hook and Jack went down. He went down on his hands and knees and -looked at us. The referee started counting. Jack was watching us and -shaking his head. At eight John motioned to him. You couldn’t hear on -account of the crowd. Jack got up. The referee had been holding Walcott -back with one arm while he counted. - -When Jack was on his feet Walcott started toward him. - -“Watch yourself, Jimmy,” I heard Solly Freedman yell to him. - -Walcott came up to Jack looking at him. Jack stuck the left hand at him. -Walcott just shook his head. He backed Jack up against the ropes, -measured him and then hooked the left very light to the side of Jack’s -head and socked the right into the body as hard as he could sock, just -as low as he could get it. He must have hit him five inches below the -belt. I thought the eyes would come out of Jack’s head. They stuck way -out. His mouth come open. - -The referee grabbed Walcott. Jack stepped forward. If he went down there -went fifty thousand bucks. He walked as though all his insides were -going to fall out. - -“It wasn’t low,” he said. “It was a accident.” - -The crowd were yelling so you couldn’t hear anything. - -“I’m all right,” Jack says. They were right in front of us. The referee -looks at John and then he shakes his head. - -“Come on, you polak son-of-a-bitch,” Jack says to Walcott. - -John was hanging onto the ropes. He had the towel ready to chuck in. -Jack was standing just a little way out from the ropes. He took a step -forward. I saw the sweat come out on his face like somebody had squeezed -it and a big drop went down his nose. - -“Come on and fight,” Jack says to Walcott. - -The referee looked at John and waved Walcott on. - -“Go in there, you slob,” he says. - -Walcott went in. He didn’t know what to do either. He never thought Jack -could have stood it. Jack put the left in his face. There was such a -hell of a lot of yelling going on. They were right in front of us. -Walcott hit him twice. Jack’s face was the worst thing I ever saw,—the -look on it! He was holding himself and all his body together and it all -showed on his face. All the time he was thinking and holding his body in -where it was busted. - -Then he started to sock. His face looked awful all the time. He started -to sock with his hands low down by his side, swinging at Walcott. -Walcott covered up and Jack was swinging wild at Walcott’s head. Then he -swung the left and it hit Walcott in the groin and the right hit Walcott -right bang where he’d hit Jack. Way low below the belt. Walcott went -down and grabbed himself there and rolled and twisted around. - -The referee grabbed Jack and pushed him toward his corner. John jumps -into the ring. There was all this yelling going on. The referee was -talking with the judges and then the announcer got into the ring with -the megaphone and says, “Walcott on a foul.” - -The referee is talking to John and he says, “What could I do? Jack -wouldn’t take the foul. Then when he’s groggy he fouls him.” - -“He’d lost it anyway,” John says. - -Jack’s sitting on the chair. I’ve got his gloves off and he’s holding -himself in down there with both hands. When he’s got something -supporting it his face doesn’t look so bad. - -“Go over and say you’re sorry,” John says into his ear. “It’ll look -good.” - -Jack stands up and the sweat comes out all over his face. I put the -bathrobe around him and he holds himself in with one hand under the -bathrobe and goes across the ring. They’ve picked Walcott up and they’re -working on him. There’re a lot of people in Walcott’s corner. Nobody -speaks to Jack. He leans over Walcott. - -“I’m sorry,” Jack says. “I didn’t mean to foul you.” - -Walcott doesn’t say anything. He looks too damned sick. - -“Well, you’re the champion now,” Jack says to him. “I hope you get a -hell of a lot of fun out of it.” - -“Leave the kid alone,” Solly Freedman says. - -“Hello, Solly,” Jack says. “I’m sorry I fouled your boy.” - -Freedman just looks at him. - -Jack went to his corner walking that funny jerky way and we got him down -through the ropes and through the reporters’ tables and out down the -aisle. A lot of people want to slap Jack on the back. He goes out -through all that mob in his bathrobe to the dressing-room. It’s a -popular win for Walcott. That’s the way the money was bet in the Garden. - -Once we got inside the dressing-room Jack lay down and shut his eyes. - -“We want to get to the hotel and get a doctor,” John says. - -“I’m all busted inside,” Jack says. - -“I’m sorry as hell, Jack,” John says. - -“It’s all right,” Jack says. - -He lies there with his eyes shut. - -“They certainly tried a nice double-cross,” John said. - -“Your friends Morgan and Steinfelt,” Jack said. “You got nice friends.” - -He lies there, his eyes are open now. His face has still got that awful -drawn look. - -“It’s funny how fast you can think when it means that much money,” Jack -says. - -“You’re some boy, Jack,” John says. - -“No,” Jack says. “It was nothing.” - - - - - A SIMPLE ENQUIRY - - -OUTSIDE, the snow was higher than the window. The sunlight came in -through the window and shone on a map on the pine-board wall of the hut. -The sun was high and the light came in over the top of the snow. A -trench had been cut along the open side of the hut, and each clear day -the sun, shining on the wall, reflected heat against the snow and -widened the trench. It was late March. The major sat at a table against -the wall. His adjutant sat at another table. - -Around the major’s eyes were two white circles where his snow-glasses -had protected his face from the sun on the snow. The rest of his face -had been burned and then tanned and then burned through the tan. His -nose was swollen and there were edges of loose skin where blisters had -been. While he worked at the papers he put the fingers of his left hand -into a saucer of oil and then spread the oil over his face, touching it -very gently with the tips of his fingers. He was very careful to drain -his fingers on the edge of the saucer so there was only a film of oil on -them, and after he had stroked his forehead and his cheeks, he stroked -his nose very delicately between his fingers. When he had finished he -stood up, took the saucer of oil and went into the small room of the hut -where he slept. “I’m going to take a little sleep,” he said to the -adjutant. In that army an adjutant is not a commissioned officer. “You -will finish up.” - -“Yes, signor maggiore,” the adjutant answered. He leaned back in his -chair and yawned. He took a paper-covered book out of the pocket of his -coat and opened it; then laid it down on the table and lit his pipe. He -leaned forward on the table to read and puffed at his pipe. Then he -closed the book and put it back in his pocket. He had too much -paper-work to get through. He could not enjoy reading until it was done. -Outside, the sun went behind a mountain and there was no more light on -the wall of the hut. A soldier came in and put some pine branches, -chopped into irregular lengths, into the stove. “Be soft, Pinin,” the -adjutant said to him. “The major is sleeping.” - -Pinin was the major’s orderly. He was a dark-faced boy, and he fixed the -stove, putting the pine wood in carefully, shut the door, and went into -the back of the hut again. The adjutant went on with his papers. - -“Tonani,” the major called. - -“Signor maggiore?” - -“Send Pinin in to me.” - -“Pinin!” the adjutant called. Pinin came into the room. “The major wants -you,” the adjutant said. - -Pinin walked across the main room of the hut toward the major’s door. He -knocked on the half-opened door. “Signor maggiore?” - -“Come in,” the adjutant heard the major say, “and shut the door.” - -Inside the room the major lay on his bunk. Pinin stood beside the bunk. -The major lay with his head on the rucksack that he had stuffed with -spare clothing to make a pillow. His long, burned, oiled face looked at -Pinin. His hands lay on the blankets. - -“You are nineteen?” he asked. - -“Yes, signor maggiore.” - -“You have ever been in love?” - -“How do you mean, signor maggiore?” - -“In love—with a girl?” - -“I have been with girls.” - -“I did not ask that. I asked if you had been in love—with a girl.” - -“Yes, signor maggiore.” - -“You are in love with this girl now? You don’t write her. I read all -your letters.” - -“I am in love with her,” Pinin said, “but I do not write her.” - -“You are sure of this?” - -“I am sure.” - -“Tonani,” the major said in the same tone of voice, “can you hear me -talking?” - -There was no answer from the next room. - -“He can not hear,” the major said. “And you are quite sure that you love -a girl?” - -“I am sure.” - -“And,” the major looked at him quickly, “that you are not corrupt?” - -“I don’t know what you mean, corrupt.” - -“All right,” the major said. “You needn’t be superior.” - -Pinin looked at the floor. The major looked at his brown face, down and -up him, and at his hands. Then he went on, not smiling, “And you don’t -really want—” the major paused. Pinin looked at the floor. “That your -great desire isn’t really—” Pinin looked at the floor. The major leaned -his head back on the rucksack and smiled. He was really relieved: life -in the army was too complicated. “You’re a good boy,” he said. “You’re a -good boy, Pinin. But don’t be superior and be careful some one else -doesn’t come along and take you.” - -Pinin stood still beside the bunk. - -“Don’t be afraid,” the major said. His hands were folded on the -blankets. “I won’t touch you. You can go back to your platoon if you -like. But you had better stay on as my servant. You’ve less chance of -being killed.” - -“Do you want anything of me, signor maggiore?” - -“No,” the major said. “Go on and get on with whatever you were doing. -Leave the door open when you go out.” - -Pinin went out, leaving the door open. The adjutant looked up at him as -he walked awkwardly across the room and out the door. Pinin was flushed -and moved differently than he had moved when he brought in the wood for -the fire. The adjutant looked after him and smiled. Pinin came in with -more wood for the stove. The major, lying on his bunk, looking at his -cloth-covered helmet and his snow-glasses that hung from a nail on the -wall, heard him walk across the floor. The little devil, he thought, I -wonder if he lied to me. - - - - - TEN INDIANS - - -AFTER one Fourth of July, Nick, driving home late from town in the big -wagon with Joe Garner and his family, passed nine drunken Indians along -the road. He remembered there were nine because Joe Garner, driving -along in the dusk, pulled up the horses, jumped down into the road and -dragged an Indian out of the wheel rut. The Indian had been asleep, face -down in the sand. Joe dragged him into the bushes and got back up on the -wagon-box. - -“That makes nine of them,” Joe said, “just between here and the edge of -town.” - -“Them Indians,” said Mrs. Garner. - -Nick was on the back seat with the two Garner boys. He was looking out -from the back seat to see the Indian where Joe had dragged him alongside -of the road. - -“Was it Billy Tabeshaw?” Carl asked. - -“No.” - -“His pants looked mighty like Billy.” - -“All Indians wear the same kind of pants.” - -“I didn’t see him at all,” Frank said. “Pa was down into the road and -back up again before I seen a thing. I thought he was killing a snake.” - -“Plenty of Indians’ll kill snakes to-night, I guess,” Joe Garner said. - -“Them Indians,” said Mrs. Garner. - -They drove along. The road turned off from the main highway and went up -into the hills. It was hard pulling for the horses and the boys got down -and walked. The road was sandy. Nick looked back from the top of the -hill by the schoolhouse. He saw the lights of Petoskey and, off across -Little Traverse Bay, the lights of Harbour Springs. They climbed back in -the wagon again. - -“They ought to put some gravel on that stretch,” Joe Garner said. The -wagon went along the road through the woods. Joe and Mrs. Garner sat -close together on the front seat. Nick sat between the two boys. The -road came out into a clearing. - -“Right here was where Pa ran over the skunk.” - -“It was further on.” - -“It don’t make no difference where it was,” Joe said without turning his -head. “One place is just as good as another to run over a skunk.” - -“I saw two skunks last night,” Nick said. - -“Where?” - -“Down by the lake. They were looking for dead fish along the beach.” - -“They were coons probably,” Carl said. - -“They were skunks. I guess I know skunks.” - -“You ought to,” Carl said. “You got an Indian girl.” - -“Stop talking that way, Carl,” said Mrs. Garner. - -“Well, they smell about the same.” - -Joe Garner laughed. - -“You stop laughing, Joe,” Mrs. Garner said. “I won’t have Carl talk that -way.” - -“Have you got an Indian girl, Nickie?” Joe asked. - -“No.” - -“He has too, Pa,” Frank said. “Prudence Mitchell’s his girl.” - -“She’s not.” - -“He goes to see her every day.” - -“I don’t.” Nick, sitting between the two boys in the dark, felt hollow -and happy inside himself to be teased about Prudence Mitchell. “She -ain’t my girl,” he said. - -“Listen to him,” said Carl. “I see them together every day.” - -“Carl can’t get a girl,” his mother said, “not even a squaw.” - -Carl was quiet. - -“Carl ain’t no good with girls,” Frank said. - -“You shut up.” - -“You’re all right, Carl,” Joe Garner said. “Girls never got a man -anywhere. Look at your pa.” - -“Yes, that’s what you would say,” Mrs. Garner moved close to Joe as the -wagon jolted. “Well, you had plenty of girls in your time.” - -“I’ll bet Pa wouldn’t ever have had a squaw for a girl.” - -“Don’t you think it,” Joe said. “You better watch out to keep Prudie, -Nick.” - -His wife whispered to him and Joe laughed. - -“What you laughing at?” asked Frank. - -“Don’t you say it, Garner,” his wife warned. Joe laughed again. - -“Nickie can have Prudence,” Joe Garner said. “I got a good girl.” - -“That’s the way to talk,” Mrs. Garner said. - -The horses were pulling heavily in the sand. Joe reached out in the dark -with the whip. - -“Come on, pull into it. You’ll have to pull harder than this to-morrow.” - -They trotted down the long hill, the wagon jolting. At the farmhouse -everybody got down. Mrs. Garner unlocked the door, went inside, and came -out with a lamp in her hand. Carl and Nick unloaded the things from the -back of the wagon. Frank sat on the front seat to drive to the barn and -put up the horses. Nick went up the steps and opened the kitchen door. -Mrs. Garner was building a fire in the stove. She turned from pouring -kerosene on the wood. - -“Good-by, Mrs. Garner,” Nick said. “Thanks for taking me.” - -“Oh shucks, Nickie.” - -“I had a wonderful time.” - -“We like to have you. Won’t you stay and eat some supper?” - -“I better go. I think Dad probably waited for me.” - -“Well, get along then. Send Carl up to the house, will you?” - -“All right.” - -“Good-night, Nickie.” - -“Good-night, Mrs. Garner.” - -Nick went out the farmyard and down to the barn. Joe and Frank were -milking. - -“Good-night,” Nick said. “I had a swell time.” - -“Good-night, Nick,” Joe Garner called. “Aren’t you going to stay and -eat?” - -“No, I can’t. Will you tell Carl his mother wants him?” - -“All right. Good-night, Nickie.” - -Nick walked barefoot along the path through the meadow below the barn. -The path was smooth and the dew was cool on his bare feet. He climbed a -fence at the end of the meadow, went down through a ravine, his feet wet -in the swamp mud, and then climbed up through the dry beech woods until -he saw the lights of the cottage. He climbed over the fence and walked -around to the front porch. Through the window he saw his father sitting -by the table, reading in the light from the big lamp. Nick opened the -door and went in. - -“Well, Nickie,” his father said, “was it a good day?” - -“I had a swell time, Dad. It was a swell Fourth of July.” - -“Are you hungry?” - -“You bet.” - -“What did you do with your shoes?” - -“I left them in the wagon at Garner’s.” - -“Come on out to the kitchen.” - -Nick’s father went ahead with the lamp. He stopped and lifted the lid of -the ice-box. Nick went on into the kitchen. His father brought in a -piece of cold chicken on a plate and a pitcher of milk and put them on -the table before Nick. He put down the lamp. - -“There’s some pie too,” he said. “Will that hold you?” - -“It’s grand.” - -His father sat down in a chair beside the oilcloth-covered table. He -made a big shadow on the kitchen wall. - -“Who won the ball game?” - -“Petoskey. Five to three.” - -His father sat watching him eat and filled his glass from the -milk-pitcher. Nick drank and wiped his mouth on his napkin. His father -reached over to the shelf for the pie. He cut Nick a big piece. It was -huckleberry pie. - -“What did you do, Dad?” - -“I went out fishing in the morning.” - -“What did you get?” - -“Only perch.” - -His father sat watching Nick eat the pie. - -“What did you do this afternoon?” Nick asked. - -“I went for a walk up by the Indian camp.” - -“Did you see anybody?” - -“The Indians were all in town getting drunk.” - -“Didn’t you see anybody at all?” - -“I saw your friend, Prudie.” - -“Where was she?” - -“She was in the woods with Frank Washburn. I ran onto them. They were -having quite a time.” - -His father was not looking at him. - -“What were they doing?” - -“I didn’t stay to find out.” - -“Tell me what they were doing.” - -“I don’t know,” his father said. “I just heard them threshing around.” - -“How did you know it was them?” - -“I saw them.” - -“I thought you said you didn’t see them.” - -“Oh, yes, I saw them.” - -“Who was it with her?” Nick asked. - -“Frank Washburn.” - -“Were they—were they——” - -“Were they what?” - -“Were they happy?” - -“I guess so.” - -His father got up from the table and went out the kitchen screen door. -When he came back Nick was looking at his plate. He had been crying. - -“Have some more?” His father picked up the knife to cut the pie. - -“No,” said Nick. - -“You better have another piece.” - -“No, I don’t want any.” - -His father cleared off the table. - -“Where were they in the woods?” Nick asked. - -“Up back of the camp.” Nick looked at his plate. His father said, “You -better go to bed, Nick.” - -“All right.” - -Nick went into his room, undressed, and got into bed. He heard his -father moving around in the living-room. Nick lay in the bed with his -face in the pillow. - -“My heart’s broken,” he thought. “If I feel this way my heart must be -broken.” - -After a while he heard his father blow out the lamp and go into his own -room. He heard a wind come up in the trees outside and felt it come in -cool through the screen. He lay for a long time with his face in the -pillow, and after a while he forgot to think about Prudence and finally -he went to sleep. When he awoke in the night he heard the wind in the -hemlock trees outside the cottage and the waves of the lake coming in on -the shore, and he went back to sleep. In the morning there was a big -wind blowing and the waves were running high up on the beach and he was -awake a long time before he remembered that his heart was broken. - - - - - A CANARY FOR ONE - - -THE train passed very quickly a long, red stone house with a garden and -four thick palm-trees with tables under them in the shade. On the other -side was the sea. Then there was a cutting through red stone and clay, -and the sea was only occasionally and far below against rocks. - -“I bought him in Palermo,” the American lady said. “We only had an hour -ashore and it was Sunday morning. The man wanted to be paid in dollars -and I gave him a dollar and a half. He really sings very beautifully.” - -It was very hot in the train and it was very hot in the _lit salon_ -compartment. There was no breeze came through the open window. The -American lady pulled the window-blind down and there was no more sea, -even occasionally. On the other side there was glass, then the corridor, -then an open window, and outside the window were dusty trees and an -oiled road and flat fields of grapes, with gray-stone hills behind them. - -There was smoke from many tall chimneys—coming into Marseilles, and the -train slowed down and followed one track through many others into the -station. The train stayed twenty-five minutes in the station at -Marseilles and the American lady bought a copy of _The Daily Mail_ and a -half-bottle of Evian water. She walked a little way along the station -platform, but she stayed near the steps of the car because at Cannes, -where it stopped for twelve minutes, the train had left with no signal -of departure and she had only gotten on just in time. The American lady -was a little deaf and she was afraid that perhaps signals of departure -were given and that she did not hear them. - -The train left the station in Marseilles and there was not only the -switch-yards and the factory smoke but, looking back, the town of -Marseilles and the harbor with stone hills behind it and the last of the -sun on the water. As it was getting dark the train passed a farmhouse -burning in a field. Motor-cars were stopped along the road and bedding -and things from inside the farmhouse were spread in the field. Many -people were watching the house burn. After it was dark the train was in -Avignon. People got on and off. At the news-stand Frenchmen, returning -to Paris, bought that day’s French papers. On the station platform were -negro soldiers. They wore brown uniforms and were tall and their faces -shone, close under the electric light. Their faces were very black and -they were too tall to stare. The train left Avignon station with the -negroes standing there. A short white sergeant was with them. - -Inside the _lit salon_ compartment the porter had pulled down the three -beds from inside the wall and prepared them for sleeping. In the night -the American lady lay without sleeping because the train was a _rapide_ -and went very fast and she was afraid of the speed in the night. The -American lady’s bed was the one next to the window. The canary from -Palermo, a cloth spread over his cage, was out of the draft in the -corridor that went into the compartment wash-room. There was a blue -light outside the compartment, and all night the train went very fast -and the American lady lay awake and waited for a wreck. - -In the morning the train was near Paris, and after the American lady had -come out from the wash-room, looking very wholesome and middle-aged and -American in spite of not having slept, and had taken the cloth off the -birdcage and hung the cage in the sun, she went back to the -restaurant-car for breakfast. When she came back to the _lit salon_ -compartment again, the beds had been pushed back into the wall and made -into seats, the canary was shaking his feathers in the sunlight that -came through the open window, and the train was much nearer Paris. - -“He loves the sun,” the American lady said. “He’ll sing now in a little -while.” - -The canary shook his feathers and pecked into them. “I’ve always loved -birds,” the American lady said. “I’m taking him home to my little girl. -There—he’s singing now.” - -The canary chirped and the feathers on his throat stood out, then he -dropped his bill and pecked into his feathers again. The train crossed a -river and passed through a very carefully tended forest. The train -passed through many outside of Paris towns. There were tram-cars in the -towns and big advertisements for the Belle Jardinière and Dubonnet and -Pernod on the walls toward the train. All that the train passed through -looked as though it were before breakfast. For several minutes I had not -listened to the American lady, who was talking to my wife. - -“Is your husband American too?” asked the lady. - -“Yes,” said my wife. “We’re both Americans.” - -“I thought you were English.” - -“Oh, no.” - -“Perhaps that was because I wore braces,” I said. I had started to say -suspenders and changed it to braces in the mouth, to keep my English -character. The American lady did not hear. She was really quite deaf; -she read lips, and I had not looked toward her. I had looked out of the -window. She went on talking to my wife. - -“I’m so glad you’re Americans. American men make the best husbands,” the -American lady was saying. “That was why we left the Continent, you know. -My daughter fell in love with a man in Vevey.” She stopped. “They were -simply madly in love.” She stopped again. “I took her away, of course.” - -“Did she get over it?” asked my wife. - -“I don’t think so,” said the American lady. “She wouldn’t eat anything -and she wouldn’t sleep at all. I’ve tried so very hard, but she doesn’t -seem to take an interest in anything. She doesn’t care about things. I -couldn’t have her marrying a foreigner.” She paused. “Some one, a very -good friend, told me once, ‘No foreigner can make an American girl a -good husband.’” - -“No,” said my wife, “I suppose not.” - -The American lady admired my wife’s travelling-coat, and it turned out -that the American lady had bought her own clothes for twenty years now -from the same maison de couturier in the Rue Saint Honoré. They had her -measurements, and a vendeuse who knew her and her tastes picked the -dresses out for her and they were sent to America. They came to the -post-office near where she lived up-town in New York, and the duty was -never exorbitant because they opened the dresses there in the -post-office to appraise them and they were always very simple-looking -and with no gold lace nor ornaments that would make the dresses look -expensive. Before the present vendeuse, named Thérèse, there had been -another vendeuse, named Amélie. Altogether there had only been these two -in the twenty years. It had always been the same couturier. Prices, -however, had gone up. The exchange, though, equalized that. They had her -daughter’s measurements now too. She was grown up and there was not much -chance of their changing now. - -The train was now coming into Paris. The fortifications were levelled -but grass had not grown. There were many cars standing on tracks—brown -wooden restaurant-cars and brown wooden sleeping-cars that would go to -Italy at five o’clock that night, if that train still left at five; the -cars were marked Paris-Rome, and cars, with seats on the roofs, that -went back and forth to the suburbs with, at certain hours, people in all -the seats and on the roofs, if that were the way it were still done, and -passing were the white walls and many windows of houses. Nothing had -eaten any breakfast. - -“Americans make the best husbands,” the American lady said to my wife. I -was getting down the bags. “American men are the only men in the world -to marry.” - -“How long ago did you leave Vevey?” asked my wife. - -“Two years ago this fall. It’s her, you know, that I’m taking the canary -to.” - -“Was the man your daughter was in love with a Swiss?” - -“Yes,” said the American lady. “He was from a very good family in Vevey. -He was going to be an engineer. They met there in Vevey. They used to go -on long walks together.” - -“I know Vevey,” said my wife. “We were there on our honeymoon.” - -“Were you really? That must have been lovely. I had no idea, of course, -that she’d fall in love with him.” - -“It was a very lovely place,” said my wife. - -“Yes,” said the American lady. “Isn’t it lovely? Where did you stop -there?” - -“We stayed at the Trois Couronnes,” said my wife. - -“It’s such a fine old hotel,” said the American lady. - -“Yes,” said my wife. “We had a very fine room and in the fall the -country was lovely.” - -“Were you there in the fall?” - -“Yes,” said my wife. - -We were passing three cars that had been in a wreck. They were -splintered open and the roofs sagged in. - -“Look,” I said. “There’s been a wreck.” - -The American lady looked and saw the last car. “I was afraid of just -that all night,” she said. “I have terrific presentiments about things -sometimes. I’ll never travel on a _rapide_ again at night. There must be -other comfortable trains that don’t go so fast.” - -Then the train was in the dark of the Gare de Lyons, and then stopped -and porters came up to the windows. I handed bags through the windows, -and we were out on the dim longness of the platform, and the American -lady put herself in charge of one of three men from Cook’s who said: -“Just a moment, madame, and I’ll look for your name.” - -The porter brought a truck and piled on the baggage, and my wife said -good-by and I said good-by to the American lady, whose name had been -found by the man from Cook’s on a typewritten page in a sheaf of -typewritten pages which he replaced in his pocket. - -We followed the porter with the truck down the long cement platform -beside the train. At the end was a gate and a man took the tickets. - -We were returning to Paris to set up separate residences. - - - - - AN ALPINE IDYLL - - -IT was hot coming down into the valley even in the early morning. The -sun melted the snow from the skis we were carrying and dried the wood. -It was spring in the valley but the sun was very hot. We came along the -road into Galtur carrying our skis and rucksacks. As we passed the -churchyard a burial was just over. I said, “Grüss Gott,” to the priest -as he walked past us coming out of the churchyard. The priest bowed. - -“It’s funny a priest never speaks to you,” John said. - -“You’d think they’d like to say ‘Grüss Gott.’” - -“They never answer,” John said. - -We stopped in the road and watched the sexton shovelling in the new -earth. A peasant with a black beard and high leather boots stood beside -the grave. The sexton stopped shovelling and straightened his back. The -peasant in the high boots took the spade from the sexton and went on -filling in the grave—spreading the earth evenly as a man spreading -manure in a garden. In the bright May morning the grave-filling looked -unreal. I could not imagine any one being dead. - -“Imagine being buried on a day like this,” I said to John. - -“I wouldn’t like it.” - -“Well,” I said, “we don’t have to do it.” - -We went on up the road past the houses of the town to the inn. We had -been skiing in the Silvretta for a month, and it was good to be down in -the valley. In the Silvretta the skiing had been all right, but it was -spring skiing, the snow was good only in the early morning and again in -the evening. The rest of the time it was spoiled by the sun. We were -both tired of the sun. You could not get away from the sun. The only -shadows were made by rocks or by the hut that was built under the -protection of a rock beside a glacier, and in the shade the sweat froze -in your underclothing. You could not sit outside the hut without dark -glasses. It was pleasant to be burned black but the sun had been very -tiring. You could not rest in it. I was glad to be down away from snow. -It was too late in the spring to be up in the Silvretta. I was a little -tired of skiing. We had stayed too long. I could taste the snow water we -had been drinking melted off the tin roof of the hut. The taste was a -part of the way I felt about skiing. I was glad there were other things -beside skiing, and I was glad to be down, away from the unnatural high -mountain spring, into this May morning in the valley. - -The innkeeper sat on the porch of the inn, his chair tipped back against -the wall. Beside him sat the cook. - -“Ski-heil!” said the innkeeper. - -“Heil!” we said and leaned the skis against the wall and took off our -packs. - -“How was it up above?” asked the innkeeper. - -“Schön. A little too much sun.” - -“Yes. There’s too much sun this time of year.” - -The cook sat on in his chair. The innkeeper went in with us and unlocked -his office and brought out our mail. There was a bundle of letters and -some papers. - -“Let’s get some beer,” John said. - -“Good. We’ll drink it inside.” - -The proprietor brought two bottles and we drank them while we read the -letters. - -“We better have some more beer,” John said. A girl brought it this time. -She smiled as she opened the bottles. - -“Many letters,” she said. - -“Yes. Many.” - -“Prosit,” she said and went out, taking the empty bottles. - -“I’d forgotten what beer tasted like.” - -“I hadn’t,” John said. “Up in the hut I used to think about it a lot.” - -“Well,” I said, “we’ve got it now.” - -“You oughtn’t to ever do anything too long.” - -“No. We were up there too long.” - -“Too damn long,” John said. “It’s no good doing a thing too long.” - -The sun came through the open window and shone through the beer bottles -on the table. The bottles were half full. There was a little froth on -the beer in the bottles, not much because it was very cold. It collared -up when you poured it into the tall glasses. I looked out of the open -window at the white road. The trees beside the road were dusty. Beyond -was a green field and a stream. There were trees along the stream and a -mill with a water wheel. Through the open side of the mill I saw a long -log and a saw in it rising and falling. No one seemed to be tending it. -There were four crows walking in the green field. One crow sat in a tree -watching. Outside on the porch the cook got off his chair and passed -into the hall that led back into the kitchen. Inside, the sunlight shone -through the empty glasses on the table. John was leaning forward with -his head on his arms. - -Through the window I saw two men come up the front steps. They came into -the drinking room. One was the bearded peasant in the high boots. The -other was the sexton. They sat down at the table under the window. The -girl came in and stood by their table. The peasant did not seem to see -her. He sat with his hands on the table. He wore his old army clothes. -There were patches on the elbows. - -“What will it be?” asked the sexton. The peasant did not pay any -attention. - -“What will you drink?” - -“Schnapps,” the peasant said. - -“And a quarter litre of red wine,” the sexton told the girl. - -The girl brought the drinks and the peasant drank the schnapps. He -looked out of the window. The sexton watched him. John had his head -forward on the table. He was asleep. - -The innkeeper came in and went over to the table. He spoke in dialect -and the sexton answered him. The peasant looked out of the window. The -innkeeper went out of the room. The peasant stood up. He took a folded -ten-thousand kronen note out of a leather pocket-book and unfolded it. -The girl came up. - -“Alles?” she asked. - -“Alles,” he said. - -“Let me buy the wine,” the sexton said. - -“Alles,” the peasant repeated to the girl. She put her hand in the -pocket of her apron, brought it out full of coins and counted out the -change. The peasant went out the door. As soon as he was gone the -innkeeper came into the room again and spoke to the sexton. He sat down -at the table. They talked in dialect. The sexton was amused. The -innkeeper was disgusted. The sexton stood up from the table. He was a -little man with a mustache. He leaned out of the window and looked up -the road. - -“There he goes in,” he said. - -“In the Löwen?” - -“Ja.” - -They talked again and then the innkeeper came over to our table. The -innkeeper was a tall man and old. He looked at John asleep. - -“He’s pretty tired.” - -“Yes, we were up early.” - -“Will you want to eat soon?” - -“Any time,” I said. “What is there to eat?” - -“Anything you want. The girl will bring the eating-card.” - -The girl brought the menu. John woke up. The menu was written in ink on -a card and the card slipped into a wooden paddle. - -“There’s the speise-karte,” I said to John. He looked at it. He was -still sleepy. - -“Won’t you have a drink with us?” I asked the innkeeper. He sat down. -“Those peasants are beasts,” said the innkeeper. - -“We saw that one at a funeral coming into town.” - -“That was his wife.” - -“Oh.” - -“He’s a beast. All these peasants are beasts.” - -“How do you mean?” - -“You wouldn’t believe it. You wouldn’t believe what just happened about -that one.” - -“Tell me.” - -“You wouldn’t believe it.” The innkeeper spoke to the sexton. “Franz, -come over here.” The sexton came, bringing his little bottle of wine and -his glass. - -“The gentlemen are just come down from the Wiesbadenerhütte,” the -innkeeper said. We shook hands. - -“What will you drink?” I asked. - -“Nothing,” Franz shook his finger. - -“Another quarter litre?” - -“All right.” - -“Do you understand dialect?” the innkeeper asked. - -“No.” - -“What’s it all about?” John asked. - -“He’s going to tell us about the peasant we saw filling the grave, -coming into town.” - -“I can’t understand it, anyway,” John said. “It goes too fast for me.” - -“That peasant,” the innkeeper said, “to-day he brought his wife in to be -buried. She died last November.” - -“December,” said the sexton. - -“That makes nothing. She died last December then, and he notified the -commune.” - -“December eighteenth,” said the sexton. - -“Anyway, he couldn’t bring her over to be buried until the snow was -gone.” - -“He lives on the other side of the Paznaun,” said the sexton. “But he -belongs to this parish.” - -“He couldn’t bring her out at all?” I asked. - -“No. He can only come, from where he lives, on skis until the snow -melts. So to-day he brought her in to be buried and the priest, when he -looked at her face, didn’t want to bury her. You go on and tell it,” he -said to the sexton. “Speak German, not dialect.” - -“It was very funny with the priest,” said the sexton. “In the report to -the commune she died of heart trouble. We knew she had heart trouble -here. She used to faint in church sometimes. She did not come for a long -time. She wasn’t strong to climb. When the priest uncovered her face he -asked Olz, ‘Did your wife suffer much?’ ‘No,’ said Olz. ‘When I came in -the house she was dead across the bed.’ - -“The priest looked at her again. He didn’t like it. - -“‘How did her face get that way?’ - -“‘I don’t know,’ Olz said. - -“‘You’d better find out,’ the priest said, and put the blanket back. Olz -didn’t say anything. The priest looked at him. Olz looked back at the -priest. ‘You want to know?’ - -“‘I must know,’ the priest said.” - -“This is where it’s good,” the innkeeper said. “Listen to this. Go on -Franz.” - -“‘Well,’ said Olz, ‘when she died I made the report to the commune and I -put her in the shed across the top of the big wood. When I started to -use the big wood she was stiff and I put her up against the wall. Her -mouth was open and when I came into the shed at night to cut up the big -wood, I hung the lantern from it.’ - -“‘Why did you do that?’ asked the priest. - -“‘I don’t know,’ said Olz. - -“‘Did you do that many times?’ - -“‘Every time I went to work in the shed at night.’ - -“‘It was very wrong,’ said the priest. ‘Did you love your wife?’ - -“‘Ja, I loved her,’ Olz said. ‘I loved her fine.’” - -“Did you understand it all?” asked the innkeeper. “You understand it all -about his wife?” - -“I heard it.” - -“How about eating?” John asked. - -“You order,” I said. “Do you think it’s true?” I asked the innkeeper. - -“Sure it’s true,” he said. “These peasants are beasts.” - -“Where did he go now?” - -“He’s gone to drink at my colleague’s, the Löwen.” - -“He didn’t want to drink with me,” said the sexton. - -“He didn’t want to drink with me, after he knew about his wife,” said -the innkeeper. - -“Say,” said John. “How about eating?” - -“All right,” I said. - - - - - A PURSUIT RACE - - -WILLIAM CAMPBELL had been in a pursuit race with a burlesque show ever -since Pittsburgh. In a pursuit race, in bicycle racing, riders start at -equal intervals to ride after one another. They ride very fast because -the race is usually limited to a short distance and if they slow their -riding another rider who maintains his pace will make up the space that -separated them equally at the start. As soon as a rider is caught and -passed he is out of the race and must get down from his bicycle and -leave the track. If none of the riders are caught the winner of the race -is the one who has gained the most distance. In most pursuit races, if -there are only two riders, one of the riders is caught inside of six -miles. The burlesque show caught William Campbell at Kansas City. - -William Campbell had hoped to hold a slight lead over the burlesque show -until they reached the Pacific coast. As long as he preceded the -burlesque show as advance man he was being paid. When the burlesque show -caught up with him he was in bed. He was in bed when the manager of the -burlesque troupe came into his room and after the manager had gone out -he decided that he might as well stay in bed. It was very cold in Kansas -City and he was in no hurry to go out. He did not like Kansas City. He -reached under the bed for a bottle and drank. It made his stomach feel -better. Mr. Turner, the manager of the burlesque show, had refused a -drink. - -William Campbell’s interview with Mr. Turner had been a little strange. -Mr. Turner had knocked on the door. Campbell had said: “Come in!” When -Mr. Turner came into the room he saw clothing on a chair, an open -suitcase, the bottle on a chair beside the bed, and some one lying in -the bed completely covered by the bed-clothes. - -“Mister Campbell,” Mr. Turner said. - -“You can’t fire me,” William Campbell said from underneath the covers. -It was warm and white and close under the covers. “You can’t fire me -because I’ve got down off my bicycle.” - -“You’re drunk,” Mr. Turner said. - -“Oh, yes,” William Campbell said, speaking directly against the sheet -and feeling the texture with his lips. - -“You’re a fool,” Mr. Turner said. He turned off the electric light. The -electric light had been burning all night. It was now ten o’clock in the -morning. “You’re a drunken fool. When did you get into this town?” - -“I got into this town last night,” William Campbell said, speaking -against the sheet. He found he liked to talk through a sheet. “Did you -ever talk through a sheet?” - -“Don’t try to be funny. You aren’t funny.” - -“I’m not being funny. I’m just talking through a sheet.” - -“You’re talking through a sheet all right.” - -“You can go now, Mr. Turner,” Campbell said. “I don’t work for you any -more.” - -“You know that anyway.” - -“I know a lot,” William Campbell said. He pulled down the sheet and -looked at Mr. Turner. “I know enough so I don’t mind looking at you at -all. Do you want to hear what I know?” - -“No.” - -“Good,” said William Campbell. “Because really I don’t know anything at -all. I was just talking.” He pulled the sheet up over his face again. “I -love it under a sheet,” he said. Mr. Turner stood beside the bed. He was -a middle-aged man with a large stomach and a bald head and he had many -things to do. “You ought to stop off here, Billy, and take a cure,” he -said. “I’ll fix it up if you want to do it.” - -“I don’t want to take a cure,” William Campbell said. “I don’t want to -take a cure at all. I am perfectly happy. All my life I have been -perfectly happy.” - -“How long have you been this way?” - -“What a question!” William Campbell breathed in and out through the -sheet. - -“How long have you been stewed, Billy?” - -“Haven’t I done my work?” - -“Sure. I just asked you how long you’ve been stewed, Billy.” - -“I don’t know. But I’ve got my wolf back,” he touched the sheet with his -tongue. “I’ve had him for a week.” - -“The hell you have.” - -“Oh, yes. My dear wolf. Every time I take a drink he goes outside the -room. He can’t stand alcohol. The poor little fellow.” He moved his -tongue round and round on the sheet. “He’s a lovely wolf. He’s just like -he always was.” William Campbell shut his eyes and took a deep breath. - -“You got to take a cure, Billy,” Mr. Turner said. “You won’t mind the -Keeley. It isn’t bad.” - -“The Keeley,” William Campbell said. “It isn’t far from London.” He shut -his eyes and opened them, moving the eyelashes against the sheet. “I -just love sheets,” he said. He looked at Mr. Turner. - -“Listen, you think I’m drunk.” - -“You _are_ drunk.” - -“No, I’m not.” - -“You’re drunk and you’ve had dt’s.” - -“No.” William Campbell held the sheet around his head. “Dear sheet,” he -said. He breathed against it gently. “Pretty sheet. You love me, don’t -you, sheet? It’s all in the price of the room. Just like in Japan. No,” -he said. “Listen Billy, dear Sliding Billy, I have a surprise for you. -I’m not drunk. I’m hopped to the eyes.” - -“No,” said Mr. Turner. - -“Take a look.” William Campbell pulled up the right sleeve of his pyjama -jacket under the sheet, then shoved the right forearm out. “Look at -that.” On the forearm, from just above the wrist to the elbow, were -small blue circles around tiny dark blue punctures. The circles almost -touched one another. “That’s the new development,” William Campbell -said. “I drink a little now once in a while, just to drive the wolf out -of the room.” - -“They got a cure for that, ‘Sliding Billy’” Turner said. - -“No,” William Campbell said. “They haven’t got a cure for anything.” - -“You can’t just quit like that, Billy,” Turner said. He sat on the bed. - -“Be careful of my sheet,” William Campbell said. - -“You can’t just quit at your age and take to pumping yourself full of -that stuff just because you got in a jam.” - -“There’s a law against it. If that’s what you mean.” - -“No, I mean you got to fight it out.” - -Billy Campbell caressed the sheet with his lips and his tongue. “Dear -sheet,” he said. “I can kiss this sheet and see right through it at the -same time.” - -“Cut it out about the sheet. You can’t just take to that stuff, Billy.” - -William Campbell shut his eyes. He was beginning to feel a slight -nausea. He knew that this nausea would increase steadily, without there -ever being the relief of sickness, until something were done against it. -It was at this point that he suggested that Mr. Turner have a drink. Mr. -Turner declined. William Campbell took a drink from the bottle. It was a -temporary measure. Mr. Turner watched him. Mr. Turner had been in this -room much longer than he should have been, he had many things to do; -although living in daily association with people who used drugs, he had -a horror of drugs, and he was very fond of William Campbell; he did not -wish to leave him. He was very sorry for him and he felt a cure might -help. He knew there were good cures in Kansas City. But he had to go. He -stood up. - -“Listen, Billy,” William Campbell said, “I want to tell you something. -You’re called ‘Sliding Billy.’ That’s because you can slide. I’m called -just Billy. That’s because I never could slide at all. I can’t slide, -Billy. I can’t slide. It just catches. Every time I try it, it catches.” -He shut his eyes. “I can’t slide, Billy. It’s awful when you can’t -slide.” - -“Yes,” said “Sliding Billy” Turner. - -“Yes, what?” William Campbell looked at him. - -“You were saying.” - -“No,” said William Campbell. “I wasn’t saying. It must have been a -mistake.” - -“You were saying about sliding.” - -“No. It couldn’t have been about sliding. But listen, Billy, and I’ll -tell you a secret. Stick to sheets, Billy. Keep away from women and -horses and, and—” he stopped “—eagles, Billy. If you love horses -you’ll get horse-s—, and if you love eagles you’ll get eagle-s—.” He -stopped and put his head under the sheet. - -“I got to go,” said “Sliding Billy” Turner. - -“If you love women you’ll get a dose,” William Campbell said. “If you -love horses——” - -“Yes, you said that.” - -“Said what?” - -“About horses and eagles.” - -“Oh, yes. And if you love sheets.” He breathed on the sheet and stroked -his nose against it. “I don’t know about sheets,” he said. “I just -started to love this sheet.” - -“I have to go,” Mr. Turner said. “I got a lot to do.” - -“That’s all right,” William Campbell said. “Everybody’s got to go.” - -“I better go.” - -“All right, you go.” - -“Are you all right, Billy?” - -“I was never so happy in my life.” - -“And you’re all right?” - -“I’m fine. You go along. I’ll just lie here for a little while. Around -noon I’ll get up.” - -But when Mr. Turner came up to William Campbell’s room at noon William -Campbell was sleeping and as Mr. Turner was a man who knew what things -in life were very valuable he did not wake him. - - - - - TO-DAY IS FRIDAY - - - _Three Roman soldiers are in a drinking-place at eleven o’clock - at night. There are barrels around the wall. Behind the wooden - counter is a Hebrew wine-seller. The three Roman soldiers are a - little cock-eyed._ - -_1st Roman Soldier_—You tried the red? - -_2d Soldier_—No, I ain’t tried it. - -_1st Soldier_—You better try it. - -_2d Soldier_—All right, George, we’ll have a round of the red. - -_Hebrew Wine-seller_—Here you are, gentlemen. You’ll like that. [_He -sets down an earthenware pitcher that he has filled from one of the -casks._] That’s a nice little wine. - -_1st Soldier_—Have a drink of it yourself. [_He turns to the third -Roman soldier who is leaning on a barrel._] What’s the matter with you? - -_3d Roman Soldier_—I got a gut-ache. - -_2d Soldier_—You’ve been drinking water. - -_1st Soldier_—Try some of the red. - -_3d Soldier_—I can’t drink the damn stuff. It makes my gut sour. - -_1st Soldier_—You been out here too long. - -_3d Soldier_—Hell, don’t I know it? - -_1st Soldier_—Say, George, can’t you give this gentleman something to -fix up his stomach? - -_Hebrew Wine-seller_—I got it right here. - - [_The third Roman soldier tastes the cup that the wine-seller - has mixed for him._] - -_3d Soldier_—Hey, what you put in that, camel chips? - -_Wine-seller_—You drink that right down, Lootenant. That’ll fix you up -right. - -_3d Soldier_—Well, I couldn’t feel any worse. - -_1st Soldier_—Take a chance on it. George fixed me up fine the other -day. - -_Wine-seller_—You were in bad shape, Lootenant. I know what fixes up a -bad stomach. - - [_The third Roman soldier drinks the cup down._] - -_3d Roman Soldier_—Jesus Christ. [_He makes a face._] - -_2d Soldier_—That false alarm! - -_1st Soldier_—Oh, I don’t know. He was pretty good in there to-day. - -_2d Soldier_—Why didn’t he come down off the cross? - -_1st Soldier_—He didn’t want to come down off the cross. That’s not his -play. - -_2d Soldier_—Show me a guy that doesn’t want to come down off the -cross. - -_1st Soldier_—Aw, hell, you don’t know anything about it. Ask George -there. Did he want to come down off the cross, George? - -_Wine-seller_—I’ll tell you, gentlemen, I wasn’t out there. It’s a -thing I haven’t taken any interest in. - -_2d Soldier_—Listen, I seen a lot of them—here and plenty of other -places. Any time you show me one that doesn’t want to get down off the -cross when the time comes—when the time comes, I mean—I’ll climb right -up with him. - -_1st Soldier_—I thought he was pretty good in there to-day. - -_3d Soldier_—He was all right. - -_2d Roman Soldier_—You guys don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m not -saying whether he was good or not. What I mean is, when the time comes. -When they first start nailing him, there isn’t none of them wouldn’t -stop it if they could. - -_1st Soldier_—Didn’t you follow it, George? - -_Wine-seller_—No, I didn’t take any interest in it, Lootenant. - -_1st Soldier_—I was surprised how he acted. - -_3d Soldier_—The part I don’t like is the nailing them on. You know, -that must get to you pretty bad. - -_2d Soldier_—It isn’t that that’s so bad, as when they first lift ’em -up. [_He makes a lifting gesture with his two palms together._] When the -weight starts to pull on ’em. That’s when it gets ’em. - -_3d Roman Soldier_—It takes some of them pretty bad. - -_1st Soldier_—Ain’t I seen ’em? I seen plenty of them. I tell you, he -was pretty good in there to-day. - - [_The second Roman soldier smiles at the Hebrew wine-seller._] - -_2d Soldier_—You’re a regular Christer, big boy. - -_1st Soldier_—Sure, go on and kid him. But listen while I tell you -something. He was pretty good in there to-day. - -_2d Soldier_—What about some more wine? - - [_The wine-seller looks up expectantly. The third Roman soldier - is sitting with his head down. He does not look well._] - -_3d Soldier_—I don’t want any more. - -_2d Soldier_—Just for two, George. - - [_The wine-seller puts out a pitcher of wine, a size smaller - than the last one. He leans forward on the wooden counter._] - -_1st Roman Soldier_—You see his girl? - -_2d Soldier_—Wasn’t I standing right by her? - -_1st Soldier_—She’s a nice-looker. - -_2d Soldier_—I knew her before he did. [_He winks at the wine-seller._] - -_1st Soldier_—I used to see her around the town. - -_2d Soldier_—She used to have a lot of stuff. He never brought _her_ no -good luck. - -_1st Soldier_—Oh, he ain’t lucky. But he looked pretty good to me in -there to-day. - -_2d Soldier_—What become of his gang? - -_1st Soldier_—Oh, they faded out. Just the women stuck by him. - -_2d Roman Soldier_—They were a pretty yellow crowd. When they seen him -go up there they didn’t want any of it. - -_1st Soldier_—The women stuck all right. - -_2d Soldier_—Sure, they stuck all right. - -_1st Roman Soldier_—You see me slip the old spear into him? - -_2d Roman Soldier_—You’ll get into trouble doing that some day. - -_1st Soldier_—It was the least I could do for him. I’ll tell you he -looked pretty good to me in there to-day. - -_Hebrew Wine-seller_—Gentlemen, you know I got to close. - -_1st Roman Soldier_—We’ll have one more round. - -_2d Roman Soldier_—What’s the use? This stuff don’t get you anywhere. -Come on, let’s go. - -_1st Soldier_—Just another round. - -_3d Roman Soldier_—[_Getting up from the barrel._] No, come on. Let’s -go. I feel like hell to-night. - -_1st Soldier_—Just one more. - -_2d Soldier_—No, come on. We’re going to go. Good-night, George. Put it -on the bill. - -_Wine-seller_—Good-night, gentlemen. [_He looks a little worried._] You -couldn’t let me have a little something on account, Lootenant? - -_2d Roman Soldier_—What the hell, George! Wednesday’s pay-day. - -_Wine-seller_—It’s all right, Lootenant. Good-night, gentlemen. - - [_The three Roman soldiers go out the door into the street._] - - [_Outside in the street._] - -_2d Roman Soldier_—George is a kike just like all the rest of them. - -_1st Roman Soldier_—Oh, George is a nice fella. - -_2d Soldier_—Everybody’s a nice fella to you to-night. - -_3d Roman Soldier_—Come on, let’s go up to the barracks. I feel like -hell to-night. - -_2d Soldier_—You been out here too long. - -_3d Roman Soldier_—No, it ain’t just that. I feel like hell. - -_2d Soldier_—You been out here too long. That’s all. - - CURTAIN. - - - - - BANAL STORY - - -So he ate an orange, slowly spitting out the seeds. Outside, the snow -was turning to rain. Inside, the electric stove seemed to give no heat -and rising from his writing-table, he sat down upon the stove. How good -it felt! Here, at last, was life. - -He reached for another orange. Far away in Paris, Mascart had knocked -Danny Frush cuckoo in the second round. Far off in Mesopotamia, -twenty-one feet of snow had fallen. Across the world in distant -Australia, the English cricketers were sharpening up their wickets. -_There_ was Romance. - -Patrons of the arts and letters have discovered _The Forum_, he read. It -is the guide, philosopher, and friend of the thinking minority. Prize -short-stories—will their authors write our best-sellers of to-morrow? - -You will enjoy these warm, homespun, American tales, bits of real life -on the open ranch, in crowded tenement or comfortable home, and all with -a healthy undercurrent of humor. - -I must read them, he thought. - -He read on. Our children’s children—what of them? Who of them? New -means must be discovered to find room for us under the sun. Shall this -be done by war or can it be done by peaceful methods? - -Or will we all have to move to Canada? - -Our deepest convictions—will Science upset them? Our civilization—is -it inferior to older orders of things? - -And meanwhile, in the far-off dripping jungles of Yucatan, sounded the -chopping of the axes of the gum-choppers. - -Do we want big men—or do we want them cultured? Take Joyce. Take -President Coolidge. What star must our college students aim at? There is -Jack Britton. There is Dr. Henry Van Dyke. Can we reconcile the two? -Take the case of Young Stribling. - -And what of our daughters who must make their own Soundings? Nancy -Hawthorne is obliged to make her own Soundings in the sea of life. -Bravely and sensibly she faces the problems which come to every girl of -eighteen. - -It was a splendid booklet. - -Are you a girl of eighteen? Take the case of Joan of Arc. Take the case -of Bernard Shaw. Take the case of Betsy Ross. - -Think of these things in 1925—Was there a risqué page in Puritan -history? Were there two sides to Pocahontas? Did he have a fourth -dimension? - -Are modern paintings—and poetry—Art? Yes and No. Take Picasso. - -Have tramps codes of conduct? Send your mind adventuring. - -There is Romance everywhere. _Forum_ writers talk to the point, are -possessed of humor and wit. But they do not try to be smart and are -never long-winded. - -Live the full life of the mind, exhilarated by new ideas, intoxicated by -the Romance of the unusual. He laid down the booklet. - -And meanwhile, stretched flat on a bed in a darkened room in his house -in Triana, Manuel Garcia Maera lay with a tube in each lung, drowning -with the pneumonia. All the papers in Andalucia devoted special -supplements to his death, which had been expected for some days. Men and -boys bought full-length colored pictures of him to remember him by, and -lost the picture they had of him in their memories by looking at the -lithographs. Bull-fighters were very relieved he was dead, because he -did always in the bull-ring the things they could only do sometimes. -They all marched in the rain behind his coffin and there were one -hundred and forty-seven bull-fighters followed him out to the cemetery, -where they buried him in the tomb next to Joselito. After the funeral -every one sat in the cafés out of the rain, and many colored pictures of -Maera were sold to men who rolled them up and put them away in their -pockets. - - - - - NOW I LAY ME - - -THAT night we lay on the floor in the room and I listened to the -silk-worms eating. The silk-worms fed in racks of mulberry leaves and -all night you could hear them eating and a dropping sound in the leaves. -I myself did not want to sleep because I had been living for a long time -with the knowledge that if I ever shut my eyes in the dark and let -myself go, my soul would go out of my body. I had been that way for a -long time, ever since I had been blown up at night and felt it go out of -me and go off and then come back. I tried never to think about it, but -it had started to go since, in the nights, just at the moment of going -off to sleep, and I could only stop it by a very great effort. So while -now I am fairly sure that it would not really have gone out, yet then, -that summer, I was unwilling to make the experiment. - -I had different ways of occupying myself while I lay awake. I would -think of a trout stream I had fished along when I was a boy and fish its -whole length very carefully in my mind; fishing very carefully under all -the logs, all the turns of the bank, the deep holes and the clear -shallow stretches, sometimes catching trout and sometimes losing them. I -would stop fishing at noon to eat my lunch; sometimes on a log over the -stream; sometimes on a high bank under a tree, and I always ate my lunch -very slowly and watched the stream below me while I ate. Often I ran out -of bait because I would take only ten worms with me in a tobacco tin -when I started. When I had used them all I had to find more worms, and -sometimes it was very difficult digging in the bank of the stream where -the cedar trees kept out the sun and there was no grass but only the -bare moist earth and often I could find no worms. Always though I found -some kind of bait, but one time in the swamp I could find no bait at all -and had to cut up one of the trout I had caught and use him for bait. - -Sometimes I found insects in the swamp meadows, in the grass or under -ferns, and used them. There were beetles and insects with legs like -grass stems, and grubs in old rotten logs; white grubs with brown -pinching heads that would not stay on the hook and emptied into nothing -in the cold water, and wood ticks under logs where sometimes I found -angle-worms that slipped into the ground as soon as the log was raised. -Once I used a salamander from under an old log. The salamander was very -small and neat and agile and a lovely color. He had tiny feet that tried -to hold on to the hook, and after that one time I never used a -salamander, although I found them very often. Nor did I use crickets, -because of the way they acted about the hook. - -Sometimes the stream ran through an open meadow, and in the dry grass I -would catch grasshoppers and use them for bait and sometimes I would -catch grasshoppers and toss them into the stream and watch them float -along swimming on the stream and circling on the surface as the current -took them and then disappear as a trout rose. Sometimes I would fish -four or five different streams in the night; starting as near as I could -get to their source and fishing them down stream. When I had finished -too quickly and the time did not go, I would fish the stream over again, -starting where it emptied into the lake and fishing back up stream, -trying for all the trout I had missed coming down. Some nights too I -made up streams, and some of them were very exciting, and it was like -being awake and dreaming. Some of those streams I still remember and -think that I have fished in them, and they are confused with streams I -really know. I gave them all names and went to them on the train and -sometimes walked for miles to get to them. - -But some nights I could not fish, and on those nights I was cold-awake -and said my prayers over and over and tried to pray for all the people I -had ever known. That took up a great amount of time, for if you try to -remember all the people you have ever known, going back to the earliest -thing you remember—which was, with me, the attic of the house where I -was born and my mother and father’s wedding-cake in a tin box hanging -from one of the rafters, and, in the attic, jars of snakes and other -specimens that my father had collected as a boy and preserved in -alcohol, the alcohol sunken in the jars so the backs of some of the -snakes and specimens were exposed and had turned white—if you thought -back that far, you remembered a great many people. If you prayed for all -of them, saying a Hail Mary and an Our Father for each one, it took a -long time and finally it would be light, and then you could go to sleep, -if you were in a place where you could sleep in the daylight. - -On those nights I tried to remember everything that had ever happened to -me, starting with just before I went to the war and remembering back -from one thing to another. I found I could only remember back to that -attic in my grandfather’s house. Then I would start there and remember -this way again, until I reached the war. - -I remembered, after my grandfather died we moved away from that house -and to a new house designed and built by my mother. Many things that -were not to be moved were burned in the back-yard and I remember those -jars from the attic being thrown in the fire, and how they popped in the -heat and the fire flamed up from the alcohol. I remember the snakes -burning in the fire in the back-yard. But there were no people in that, -only things. I could not remember who burned the things even, and I -would go on until I came to people and then stop and pray for them. - -About the new house I remembered how my mother was always cleaning -things out and making a good clearance. One time when my father was away -on a hunting trip she made a good thorough cleaning out in the basement -and burned everything that should not have been there. When my father -came home and got down from his buggy and hitched the horse, the fire -was still burning in the road beside the house. I went out to meet him. -He handed me his shotgun and looked at the fire. “What’s this?” he -asked. - -“I’ve been cleaning out the basement, dear,” my mother said from the -porch. She was standing there smiling, to meet him. My father looked at -the fire and kicked at something. Then he leaned over and picked -something out of the ashes. “Get a rake, Nick,” he said to me. I went to -the basement and brought a rake and my father raked very carefully in -the ashes. He raked out stone axes and stone skinning knives and tools -for making arrow-heads and pieces of pottery and many arrow-heads. They -had all been blackened and chipped by the fire. My father raked them all -out very carefully and spread them on the grass by the road. His shotgun -in its leather case and his game-bags were on the grass where he had -left them when he stepped down from the buggy. - -“Take the gun and the bags in the house, Nick, and bring me a paper,” he -said. My mother had gone inside the house. I took the shotgun, which was -heavy to carry and banged against my legs, and the two game-bags and -started toward the house. “Take them one at a time,” my father said. -“Don’t try and carry too much at once.” I put down the game-bags and -took in the shotgun and brought out a newspaper from the pile in my -father’s office. My father spread all the blackened, chipped stone -implements on the paper and then wrapped them up. “The best arrow-heads -went all to pieces,” he said. He walked into the house with the paper -package and I stayed outside on the grass with the two game-bags. After -a while I took them in. In remembering that, there were only two people, -so I would pray for them both. - -Some nights, though, I could not remember my prayers even. I could only -get as far as “On earth as it is in heaven” and then have to start all -over and be absolutely unable to get past that. Then I would have to -recognize that I could not remember and give up saying my prayers that -night and try something else. So on some nights I would try to remember -all the animals in the world by name and then the birds and then fishes -and then countries and cities and then kinds of food and the names of -all the streets I could remember in Chicago, and when I could not -remember anything at all any more I would just listen. And I do not -remember a night on which you could not hear things. If I could have a -light I was not afraid to sleep, because I knew my soul would only go -out of me if it were dark. So, of course, many nights I was where I -could have a light and then I slept because I was nearly always tired -and often very sleepy. And I am sure many times too that I slept without -knowing it—but I never slept knowing it, and on this night I listened -to the silk-worms. You can hear silk-worms eating very clearly in the -night and I lay with my eyes open and listened to them. - -There was only one other person in the room and he was awake too. I -listened to him being awake, for a long time. He could not lie as -quietly as I could because, perhaps, he had not had as much practice -being awake. We were lying on blankets spread over straw and when he -moved the straw was noisy, but the silk-worms were not frightened by any -noise we made and ate on steadily. There were the noises of night seven -kilometres behind the lines outside but they were different from the -small noises inside the room in the dark. The other man in the room -tried lying quietly. Then he moved again. I moved too, so he would know -I was awake. He had lived ten years in Chicago. They had taken him for a -soldier in nineteen fourteen when he had come back to visit his family, -and they had given him to me for an orderly because he spoke English. I -heard him listening, so I moved again in the blankets. - -“Can’t you sleep, Signor Tenente?” he asked. - -“No.” - -“I can’t sleep, either.” - -“What’s the matter?” - -“I don’t know. I can’t sleep.” - -“You feel all right?” - -“Sure. I feel good. I just can’t sleep.” - -“You want to talk a while?” I asked. - -“Sure. What can you talk about in this damn place.” - -“This place is pretty good,” I said. - -“Sure,” he said. “It’s all right.” - -“Tell me about out in Chicago,” I said. - -“Oh,” he said, “I told you all that once.” - -“Tell me about how you got married.” - -“I told you that.” - -“Was the letter you got Monday—from her?” - -“Sure. She writes me all the time. She’s making good money with the -place.” - -“You’ll have a nice place when you go back.” - -“Sure. She runs it fine. She’s making a lot of money.” - -“Don’t you think we’ll wake them up, talking?” I asked. - -“No. They can’t hear. Anyway, they sleep like pigs. I’m different,” he -said. “I’m nervous.” - -“Talk quiet,” I said. “Want a smoke?” - -We smoked skilfully in the dark. - -“You don’t smoke much, Signor Tenente.” - -“No. I’ve just about cut it out.” - -“Well,” he said, “it don’t do you any good and I suppose you get so you -don’t miss it. Did you ever hear a blind man won’t smoke because he -can’t see the smoke come out?” - -“I don’t believe it.” - -“I think it’s all bull, myself,” he said. “I just heard it somewhere. -You know how you hear things.” - -We were both quiet and I listened to the silk-worms. - -“You hear those damn silk-worms?” he asked. “You can hear them chew.” - -“It’s funny,” I said. - -“Say, Signor Tenente, is there something really the matter that you -can’t sleep? I never see you sleep. You haven’t slept nights ever since -I been with you.” - -“I don’t know, John,” I said. “I got in pretty bad shape along early -last spring and at night it bothers me.” - -“Just like I am,” he said. “I shouldn’t have ever got in this war. I’m -too nervous.” - -“Maybe it will get better.” - -“Say, Signor Tenente, what did you get in this war for, anyway?” - -“I don’t know, John. I wanted to, then.” - -“Wanted to,” he said. “That’s a hell of a reason.” - -“We oughtn’t to talk out loud,” I said. - -“They sleep just like pigs,” he said. “They can’t understand the English -language, anyway. They don’t know a damn thing. What are you going to do -when it’s over and we go back to the States?” - -“I’ll get a job on a paper.” - -“In Chicago?” - -“Maybe.” - -“Do you ever read what this fellow Brisbane writes? My wife cuts it out -for me and sends it to me.” - -“Sure.” - -“Did you ever meet him?” - -“No, but I’ve seen him.” - -“I’d like to meet that fellow. He’s a fine writer. My wife don’t read -English but she takes the paper just like when I was home and she cuts -out the editorials and the sport page and sends them to me.” - -“How are your kids?” - -“They’re fine. One of the girls is in the fourth grade now. You know, -Signor Tenente, if I didn’t have the kids I wouldn’t be your orderly -now. They’d have made me stay in the line all the time.” - -“I’m glad you’ve got them.” - -“So am I. They’re fine kids but I want a boy. Three girls and no boy. -That’s a hell of a note.” - -“Why don’t you try and go to sleep.” - -“No, I can’t sleep now. I’m wide awake now, Signor Tenente. Say, I’m -worried about you not sleeping though.” - -“It’ll be all right, John.” - -“Imagine a young fellow like you not to sleep.” - -“I’ll get all right. It just takes a while.” - -“You got to get all right. A man can’t get along that don’t sleep. Do -you worry about anything? You got anything on your mind?” - -“No, John, I don’t think so.” - -“You ought to get married, Signor Tenente. Then you wouldn’t worry.” - -“I don’t know.” - -“You ought to get married. Why don’t you pick out some nice Italian girl -with plenty of money. You could get any one you want. You’re young and -you got good decorations and you look nice. You been wounded a couple of -times.” - -“I can’t talk the language well enough.” - -“You talk it fine. To hell with talking the language. You don’t have to -talk to them. Marry them.” - -“I’ll think about it.” - -“You know some girls, don’t you?” - -“Sure.” - -“Well, you marry the one with the most money. Over here, the way they’re -brought up, they’ll all make you a good wife.” - -“I’ll think about it.” - -“Don’t think about it, Signor Tenente. Do it.” - -“All right.” - -“A man ought to be married. You’ll never regret it. Every man ought to -be married.” - -“All right,” I said. “Let’s try and sleep a while.” - -“All right, Signor Tenente. I’ll try it again. But you remember what I -said.” - -“I’ll remember it,” I said. “Now let’s sleep a while, John.” - -“All right,” he said. “I hope you sleep, Signor Tenente.” - -I heard him roll in his blankets on the straw and then he was very quiet -and I listened to him breathing regularly. Then he started to snore. I -listened to him snore for a long time and then I stopped listening to -him snore and listened to the silk-worms eating. They ate steadily, -making a dropping in the leaves. I had a new thing to think about and I -lay in the dark with my eyes open and thought of all the girls I had -ever known and what kind of wives they would make. It was a very -interesting thing to think about and for a while it killed off -trout-fishing and interfered with my prayers. Finally, though, I went -back to trout-fishing, because I found that I could remember all the -streams and there was always something new about them, while the girls, -after I had thought about them a few times, blurred and I could not call -them into my mind and finally they all blurred and all became rather the -same and I gave up thinking about them almost altogether. But I kept on -with my prayers and I prayed very often for John in the nights and his -class was removed from active service before the October offensive. I -was glad he was not there, because he would have been a great worry to -me. He came to the hospital in Milan to see me several months after and -was very disappointed that I had not yet married, and I know he would -feel very badly if he knew that, so far, I have never married. He was -going back to America and he was very certain about marriage and knew it -would fix up everything. - - - * * * * * - - - TRANSCRIBER NOTES - - -Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple -spellings occur, majority use has been employed. - -Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors -occur. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN WITHOUT WOMEN *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |