PART V.
SATURDAY NIGHT ON THE FARM: BOYS AND HARVEST HANDS
In mystery of town and play The splendid lady lives alway, Inwrought with starlight, winds and streams.
SATURDAY NIGHT ON THE FARM.
A group of men were gathered in Farmer Graham's barn one rainy day inSeptember; the rain had stopped the stacking, and the men were amusingthemselves with feats of skill and strength. Steve Nagle was thechampion, no matter what came up; whether shouldering a sack of wheat,or raising weights or suspending himself with one hand, he left theothers out of the race.
"Aw! it's no good foolun' with such puny little men as you," heswaggered at last, throwing himself down upon a pile of sacks.
"If our hired man was here I bet he'd beat you all holler," piped aboy's voice from the doorway.
Steve raised himself up and glared.
"What's that thing talkun'?"
The boy held his ground. "You can brag when he ain't around, but I bethe can lick you with one hand tied behind him; don't you, Frank?"
Frank was doubtful, and kept a little out of sight. He was afraid ofSteve, as were, indeed, all the other men, for he had terrorized thesaloons of the county for years. Johnny went on about his hero:
"Why, he can take a sack of wheat by the corners and snap every kernelof it clean out; he can lift a separator just as easy! You'd better bragwhen he's around."
Steve's anger rose, for he saw the rest laughing; he glared around atthem all like a hyena. "Bring on this whelp, let's see how he looks. Iain't seen him yit."
"Pa says if Lime went to a saloon where you'd meet him once, youwouldn't clean out that saloon," Johnny went on in a calm voice, with asort of undercurrent of glee in it. He saw Steve's anger, and wasdelighted.
"Bring on this feller; I'll knock the everlasting spots offen 'im f'rtwo cents."
"I'll tell 'im that."
"Tell him and be damned," roared Steve, with a wolfish gleam in his eyesthat drove the boys away whooping with mingled terror and delight.
Steve saw that the men about him held Johnny's opinion of Lime, and itmade him furious. For several years he had held undisputed sovereigntyover the saloons of Rock County, and when, with both sleeves rolled upand eyes flaming with madness, he had leaped into the center of abar-room floor with a wild shout, everybody got out, by doors, windowsor any other way, sometimes taking sash and all, and left him roaringwith maniacal delight.
No one used a revolver in those days. Shooting was almost unknown.Fights were tests of physical strength and savagery.
Harvest brought into Iowa at that time a flood of rough and hardy menwho drifted north with the moving line of ripening wheat, and onSaturday nights the saloons of the county were filled with them, andSteve found many chances to show his power. Among these strangers, asthey gathered in some saloon to make a night of it, he loved to burstwith his assertion of individual sovereignty.
* * * * *
Lime was out mending fence when Johnny came home to tell him what Stevehad said. Johnny was anxious to see his faith in his hero justified, andwatched Lime carefully as he pounded away without looking up. His dressalways had an easy slouch about his vast limbs, and his pantaloons,usually of some dark stuff, he wore invariably tucked into hisboot-tops, his vest swinging unbuttoned, his hat carelessly awry.
Being a quiet, sober man, he had never been in a saloon when Steveentered to swing his hat to the floor and yell:
"I'm Jack Robinson, I am! I am the man that bunted the bull off thebridge! I'm the best man in Northern Iowa!" He had met him, of course,but Steve kept a check upon himself when sober.
"He says he can knock the spots off of you," Johnny said, in conclusion,watching Lime roguishly.
The giant finished nailing up the fence, and at last said: "Now runalong, sonny, and git the cows." There was a laugh in his voice thatshowed his amusement at Johnny's disappointment. "I ain't got anyspots."
On the following Saturday night, at dusk, as Lime was smoking his pipeout on the horse-block, with the boys around him, there came aswiftly-driven wagon down the road, filled with a noisy load of men.They pulled up at the gate, with a prodigious shouting.
"Hello, Lime!"
"Hello, the house!"
"Hurrah for the show!"
"It's Al Crandall," cried Johnny, running down to the gate. Limefollowed slowly, and asked: "What's up, boys?"
"All goin' down to the show; climb in!"
"All right; wait till I git my coat."
Lime was working one of Graham's farms on shares in the summer; in thewinter he went to the pinery.
"Oh, can't we go, Lime?" pleaded the boys.
"If your dad'll let you; I'll pay for the tickets."
The boys rushed wildly to the house and as wildly back again, and theteam resumed its swift course, for it was getting late. It was abeautiful night; the full moon poured down a cataract of silent whitelight like spray, and the dew (almost frost) lay on the grass andreflected the glory of the autumn sky; the air was still and had thatpeculiar property, common to the prairie air, of carrying sound to agreat distance.
The road was hard and smooth, and the spirited little team bowled theheavy wagon along at a swift pace. "We're late," Crandall said, as hesnapped his long whip over the heads of his horses, "and we've got tomake it in twenty-five minutes or miss part of the show." This causedJohnny great anxiety. He had never seen a play and wanted to see it all.He looked at the flying legs of the horses and pushed on the dashboard,chirping at them slyly.
Rock Falls was the county town and the only town where plays could beproduced. It was a place of about 3,000 inhabitants at that time, and toJohnny's childish eyes it was a very great place indeed. To go to townwas an event, but to go with the men at night, and to a show, wassomething to remember a lifetime.
There was little talk as they rushed along, only some singing of adubious sort by Bill Young, on the back seat. At intervals Bill stoppedsinging and leaned over to say, in exactly the same tone of voice eachtime: "Al, I hope t' God we won't be late." Then he resumed hismonotonous singing, or said something coarse to Rice, who laughedimmoderately.
The play had begun when they climbed the narrow, precarious stairwaywhich led to the door of the hall. Every seat of the room was filled,but as for the boys, after getting their eyes upon the players, they didnot think of sitting, or of moving, for that matter; they were literallyall eyes and ears.
The hall seated about 400 persons, and the stage was a contrivancestriking as to coloring as well as variety of pieces. It added no littleto the sport of the evening by the squeaks it gave out as the heavy manwalked across, and by the falling down of the calico wings and by thepersistent refusal of the curtain to go down at the proper moment on thetableau. At the back of the room the benches rose one above the otheruntil the one at the rear was near the grimy ceiling. These benches wereoccupied by the toughs of the town, who treated each other to peanutsand slapped one another over the head with their soft, shapeless hats,and laughed inordinately when some fellow's hat was thrown out of hisreach into the crowd.
The play was Wilkie Collins' "New Magdalen," and the part of Mercy wastaken by a large and magnificently proportioned woman, a blonde, and inJohnny's eyes she seemed something divine, with her grace and majesty ofmotion. He took a personal pride in her at once and wanted her to comeout triumphant in the end, regardless of any conventional morality.
True, his admiration for the dark little woman's tragic utterance attimes drew him away from his breathless study of the queenly Mercy, butsuch moments were few. Within a half hour he was deeply in love with theheroine and wondered how she could possibly endure the fat man whoplayed the part of Horace, and who pitched into the practicable supperof cold ham, biscuit and currant wine with a gusto that suggestedgluttony as the reason for his growing burden of flesh.
And so the play went on. The wonderful old lady in the cap andspectacles, the mysterious dark little woman who popped in at shortint
ervals to say "Beware!" in a very deep contralto voice, the tenderand repentant Mercy, all were new and wonderful, beautiful things to theboys, and though they stood up the whole evening through, it passed soswiftly that the curtain's fall drew from them long sighs of regret.From that time on they were to dream of that wonderful play and thatbeautiful, repentant woman. So securely was she enthroned in theirregard that no rude and senseless jest could ever unseat her. Ofcourse, the men, as they went out, laughed and joked in the manner ofsuch men, and swore in their disappointment because it was a seriousdrama in place of the comedy and the farce which they had expected.
"It's a regular sell," Bill said. "I wanted to hear old Plunket stid ofall that stuff about nothin'. That was a lunkin' good-lookin' womanthough," he added, with a coarse suggestion in his voice, whichexasperated Johnny to the pitch of giving him a kick on the heel as hewalked in front. "Hyare, young feller, look where you're puttin' yourhoofs!" Bill growled, looking about.
John was comforted by seeing in the face of his brother the same raptexpression which he felt was on his own. He walked along almostmechanically, scarcely feeling the sidewalk, his thoughts still dwellingon the lady and the play. It was after ten o'clock, and the stores wereall shut, the frost lay thick and white on the plank walk, and the moonwas shining as only a moon can shine through the rarefied air on theWestern prairies, and overhead the stars in innumerable hosts swam inthe absolutely cloudless sky.
John stumbled along, keeping hold of Lime's hand till they reached theteam standing at the sidewalk, shivering with cold. The impatient horsesstretched their stiffened limbs with pleasure and made off with arearing plunge. The men were noisy. Bill sang another song at the topof his voice as they rattled by the sleeping houses, but as he came toan objectionable part of the song Lime turned suddenly and said: "Shutup on that, will you?" and he became silent.
Rock Falls, after the most extraordinary agitation, had just prohibitedthe sale of liquor at any point within two miles of the school-house inthe town. This, after strenuous opposition, was enforced; the immediateeffect of the law was to establish saloons at the limit of the two milesand to throw a large increase of business into the hands of Hank Swartzin the retail part of his brewery, which was situated about two milesfrom the town, on the bank of the river. He had immediately built abar-room and made himself ready for the increase of his trade, which hadpreviously been confined to supplying picnic parties with half-kegs ofbeer or an occasional glass to teamsters passing by. Hank had an eye tothe main chance and boasted: "If the public gits ahead of me it's got tobe up and a-comin'."
The road along which Crandall was driving did not lead to Hank's place,but the river road, which branched off a little farther on, went by thebrewery, though it was a longer way around. The men grew silent at last,and the steady roll and rumble of the wagon over the smooth road wassoothing, and John laid his head in Lime's lap and fell asleep whilelooking at the moon and wondering why it always seemed to go just asfast as the team.
He was awakened by a series of wild yells, the snapping of whips and thefurious rush of horses. It was another team filled with harvesterstrying to pass, and not succeeding. The fellows in the other wagonhooted and howled and cracked the whip, but Al's little bays kept thembehind until Lime protested, "Oh, let 'em go, Al," and then with a shoutof glee the team went by and left them in a cloud of dust.
"Say, boys," said Bill, "that was Pat Sheehan and the Nagle boys.They've turned off; they're goin' down to Hank's. Let's go too. Come on,fellers, what d'you say? I'm allfired dry. Ain't you?"
"I'm willun'," said Frank Rice; "what d'you say, Lime?" John looked upinto Lime's face and said to him, in a low voice, "Let's go home; thatwas Steve a-drivin'." Lime nodded and made a sign to John to keep still,but John saw his head lift. He had heard and recognized Steve's voice.
"It was Pat Sheehan, sure," repeated Bill, "an' I shouldn't wonder ifthe others was the Nagle boys and Eth Cole."
"Yes, it was Steve," said Al. "I saw his old hat as he went by."
It was perfectly intelligible to Lime that they were all anxious tohave a meeting between Steve and himself. Johnny saw also that if Limerefused to go to the brewery he would be called a coward. Bill wouldtell it all over the neighborhood, and his hero would be shamed. At lastLime nodded his head in consent and Al turned off into the river road.
When they drew up at the brewery by the river the other fellows had allentered and the door was shut. There were two or three other teamshitched about under the trees. The men sprang out and Bill danced a jigin anticipation of the fun to follow. "If Steve starts to lam Limethere'll be a circus."
As they stood for a moment before the door Al spoke to Lime aboutSteve's probable attack. "I ain't goin' to hunt around for no row,"replied Lime, placidly, "and I don't believe Steve is. You lads," hesaid to the boys, "watch the team for a little while; cuddle down underthe blankets if you git cold. It ain't no place for you in the inside.We won't stop long," he ended, cheerily.
The door opened and let out a dull red light, closed again, and all wasstill except an occasional burst of laughter and noise of heavy feetwithin. The scene made an indelible impress upon John, child though hewas. Fifty feet away the river sang over its shallows, broad andwhitened with foam which gleamed like frosted silver in the brilliantmoonlight. The trees were dark and tall about him and loomed overheadagainst the starlit sky, and the broad high moon threw a thick traceryof shadows on the dusty white road where the horses stood. Only therhythmic flow of the broad, swift river, with the occasional uneasymovement of the horses under their creaking harnesses or the dull noiseof the shouting men within the shanty, was to be heard.
John nestled down into the robes and took to dreaming of the lovely ladyhe had seen, and wondered if, when he became a man, he should have awife like her. He was awakened by Frank, who was rousing him to serve apurpose of his own. John was ten and Frank fifteen; he rubbed his sleepyeyes and rose under orders.
"Say, Johnny, what d'yeh s'pose them fellers are doen' in there? Yousaid Steve was goin' to lick Lime, you did. It don't sound much like itin there. Hear 'um laugh," he said viciously and regretfully. "Say,John, you sly along and peek in and see what they're up to, an' come an'tell me, while I hold the horses," he said, to hide the fact that Johnwas doing a good deal for his benefit.
John got slowly off the wagon and hobbled on toward the saloon, stiffwith the cold. As he neared the door he could hear some one talking in aloud voice, while the rest laughed at intervals in the manner of thosewho are listening to the good points in a story. Not daring to open thedoor, Johnny stood around the front trying to find a crevice to look inat. The speaker inside had finished his joke and some one had begunsinging.
The building was a lean-to attached to the brewery, and was a rude andhastily constructed affair. It had only two windows; one was on the sideand the other on the back. The window on the side was out of John'sreach, so he went to the back of the shanty. It was built partly intothe hill, and the window was at the top of the bank. John found that bylying down on the ground on the outside he had a good view of theinterior. The window, while level with the ground on the outside, wasabout as high as the face of a man on the inside. He was extremelywide-awake now and peered in at the scene with round, unblinking eyes.
Steve was making sport for the rest and stood leaning his elbow on thebar. He was in rare good humor, for him. His hat was lying beside himand he was in his shirt-sleeves, and his cruel gray eyes, pockmarkedface and broken nose were lighted up with a frightful smile. He wasgood-natured now, but the next drink might set him wild. Hank stoodbehind the high pine bar, a broad but nervous grin on his round, redface. Two big kerosene lamps, through a couple of smoky chimneys, senta dull red glare upon the company, which half filled the room.
If Steve's face was unpleasant to look upon, the nonchalant, tiger-likepoise and flex of his body was not. He had been dancing, it seemed, andhad thrown off his coat, and as he talked he repeatedly rolled his blueshirt-sleeves up and down
as though the motion were habitual to him.Most of the men were sitting around the room looking on and laughing atSteve's antics, and the antics of one or two others who were just drunkenough to make fools of themselves. Two or three sat on an old billiardtable under the window through which John was peering.
Lime sat in his characteristic attitude, his elbows upon his knees andhis thumbs under his chin. His eyes were lazily raised now and then witha lion-like action of the muscles of his forehead. But he seemed to takelittle interest in the ribaldry of the other fellows. John measured bothchampions critically, and exulted in the feeling that Steve was not soready for the row with Lime as he thought he was.
After Steve had finished his story there was a chorus of roars: "Bullyfor you, Steve!" "Give us another," etc. Steve, much flattered, noddedto the alert saloon-keeper, and said: "Give us another, Hank." As therest all sprang up he added: "Pull out that brandy kaig this time,Hank. Trot her out, you white-livered Dutchman," he roared, as Swartzhesitated.
The brewer fetched it up from beneath the bar, but he did itreluctantly. In the midst of the hubbub thus produced, an abnormallytall and lanky fellow known as "High" Bedloe pushed up to the bar andmade an effort to speak, and finally did say solemnly:
"Gen'lmun, Steve, say, gen'lmun, do'n' less mix our drinks!"
This was received with boisterous delight, in which Bedloe could not seethe joke, and looked feebly astonished.
Just at this point John received such a fright as entirely took away hispowers of moving or breathing, for something laid hold of his heels withdeadly grip. He was getting his breath to yell when a familiar voice athis ear said, in a tone somewhere between a whisper and a groan:
"Say, what they up to all this while? I'm sick o' wait'n' out there."
Frank had become impatient; as for John, he had been so absorbed by thescenes within, he had not noticed how the frosty ground was slowlystiffening his limbs and setting his teeth chattering. They were bothnow looking in at the window. John had simply pointed with his mittened,stubby thumb toward the interior, and Frank had crawled along to a placebeside him.
Mixing the drinks had produced the disastrous effect which Hank andBedloe had anticipated. The fun became uproarious. There were songs anddances by various members of the Nagle gang, but Lime's crowd, being inthe minority, kept quiet, occasionally standing treat as was the properthing to do.
But Steve grew wilder and more irritable every moment. He seemed to havedrunk just enough to let loose the terrible force that slept in hismuscles. He had tugged at his throat until the strings of his woolenshirt loosened, displaying the great, sloping muscles of his neck andshoulders, white as milk and hard as iron. His eyes rolled restlessly toand fro as he paced the floor. His panther-like step was full of aterrible suggestiveness. The breath of the boys at the window camequicker and quicker. They saw he was working himself into a rage thatthreatened momentarily to break forth into a violence. He realized thatthis was a crisis in his career; his reputation was at stake.
Young as John was, he understood the whole matter as he studied therestless Steve, and compared him with his impassive hero, sittingimmovable.
"You see Lime can't go away," he explained, breathlessly, to Frank, in awhisper, "'cause they'd tell it all over the country that he backed downfor Steve. He daresn't leave."
"Steve ain't no durn fool," returned the superior wisdom of Frank, inthe same cautious whisper, keeping his eyes on the bar-room. "See Limethere, cool as a cucumber. He's from the pineries, he is." He ended in atone of voice intended to convey that fighting was the principal studyof the pineries, and that Lime had graduated with the highest honors."Steve ain't a-go'n' to pitch into him yet awhile, you bet y'r bottomdollar; he ain't drunk enough for that."
Each time the invitation for another drink was given, they noticed thatLime kept on the outside of the crowd, and some one helped him to hisglass. "Don't you see he ain't drinkin'. He's throwin' it away," saidFrank; "there, see! He's foolun' 'em; he ain't a-go'n' to be drunk whenSteve tackles him. Oh, there'll be music in a minute or two."
Steve now walked the floor, pouring forth a flood of profanity andchallenges against men who were not present. He had not brought himselfto the point of attacking the unmoved and silent giant. Some of theyounger men, and especially the pleader against mixed drinks, hadsuccumbed, and were sleeping heavily on the back end of the bar and onthe billiard table. Hank was getting anxious, and the forced smile onhis face was painful to see. Over the whole group there was a singularair of waiting. No one was enjoying himself, and all wished that theywere on the road home, but there was no way out of it now. It wasevident that Lime purposed forcing the beginning of the battle on Steve.He sat in statuesque repose.
Steve had got his hat in his hand and held it doubled up like a club,and every time that he turned in his restless walk he struck the bar aresounding blow. His eyes seemed to see nothing, although they movedwildly from side to side.
He lifted up his voice in a raucous snarl. "I'm the man that struckBilly Patterson! I'm the man that bunted the bull off the bridge!Anybody got anything to say, now's his time. I'm here. Bring on yourchampion."
Foam came into the corners of his mouth, and the veins stood out on hisneck. His red face shone with its swollen veins. He smashed his fiststogether, threw his hat on the floor, tramped on it, snarling outcurses. Nothing kept him in check save the imperturbability of theseated figure. Everybody expected him to clear the saloon to prove hispower.
Bedloe, who was asleep on the table, precipitated matters by rolling offwith a prodigious noise amid a pandemonium of howls and laughter. In hisanxiety to see what was going on, Frank thrust his head violentlyagainst the window, and it crashed in, sending the glass rattling downon the table.
Steve looked up, a red sheen in his eyes like that of a wild beast.Instantly his fury burst out against this new object of attention--awild, unreasoning rage.
"What you doen' there? Who air ye, ye mangy little dog?"
Both boys sank back in tumultuous, shuddering haste, and rolled down theembankment, while they heard the voice of Steve thundering: "Fetch thelittle whelp here!"
There was a rush from the inside, a sudden outpouring, and the nextmoment John felt a hand touch his shoulder. Steve dragged him around tothe front of the saloon before he could draw his breath or utter asound. The rest crowded around.
"What are y' doen' there?" said Steve, shaking him with insanevindictiveness.
"Drop that boy!" said the voice of Lime, and voice never soundedsweeter. "Drop that boy!" he repeated, and his voice had a peculiarsound, as if it came through his teeth.
Steve dropped him, and turned with a grating snarl upon Lime, who openedhis way through the excited crowd while Johnny stumbled, leaped andcrawled out of the ring and joined Frank. "Oh, it's you, is it? Youwhite-livered"----He did not finish, for the arm of the blond giant shotout against his face like a beetle, and down he rolled on the grass.The sound of the blow made Johnny give an involuntary, quick cry.
"No human bein' could have stood up agin that blow," Crandall saidafterwards. "It was like a mule a-kickin'."
As Steve slowly gained his feet, the silence was so great that Johnnycould hear the thumping of his heart and the fierce, almost articulatebreathing of Steve. The chatter and roar of the drunken crowd had beensilenced by this encounter of the giants. The open door, where Hankstood, sent a reddish bar of light upon the two men as they faced eachother with a sort of terrific calm. In his swift gaze in search of hisbrother, John noticed the dark wood, the river murmuring drowsily overits foam-wreathed pebbles, and saw his brother's face white withexcitement, but not fear.
Lime's blow had dazed Steve for a moment, but at the same time it hadsobered him. He came to his feet with a rising mutter that sounded likethe swelling snarl of a tiger. He had been taken by surprise before, andhe now came forward with his hands in position, to vindicate histerrible reputation. The two men met in a frightful struggle. Blows thatmeant murder were dealt by each. Each s
lapping thud seemed to carry thecracking of bones in it. Steve was the more agile of the two andcircled rapidly around, striking like a boxer.
Every time his face came into view, with set teeth and ferocious scowl,the boys' spirits fell. But when they saw the calm, determined eyes ofLime, his watchful, confident look, they grew assured. All depended uponhim. The Nagle gang were like wolves in their growing ferocity, and asthey outnumbered the other party two to one, it was a critical quarterof an hour. In a swift retrospect they remembered the frightful talestold of this very spot--of the killing of Lars Peterson and his brotherNels, and the brutal hammering a crowd of drunken men had given to BigOle, of the Wapsy.
The blood was trickling down Lime's face from a cut on his cheek, butSteve's face was swollen and ghastly from the three blows which he hadreceived. Lime was saving himself for a supreme effort. The Nagle party,encouraged by the sound of the blows which Steve struck, began to yelland to show that they were ready to take a hand in the contest.
"Go it, Steve, we'll back yeh! Give it to 'im. We're with yeh! We'lltend to the rest." They began to pull off their coats.
Rice also threw off his coat. "Never mind these cowards, Lime. Hold on!Fair play!" he yelled, as he saw young Nagle about to strike Lime frombehind.
His cry startled Lime, and with a sudden leap he dealt Steve a terribleblow full in the face, and as he went reeling back made another leapinglunge and struck him to the ground--a motion that seemed impossible toone of his bulk. But as he did so one of the crowd tripped him and senthim rolling upon the prostrate Steve, whose friends leaped like a packof snarling wolves upon Lime's back. There came into the giant's heart aterrible, blind, desperate resolution. With a hoarse, inarticulate cryhe gathered himself for one supreme effort and rose from the heap like abear shaking off a pack of dogs; and holding the stunned and nervelessSteve in his great hands, with one swift, incredible effort literallyswept his opponent's body in the faces of the infuriated men rushingdown upon him.
"Come on, you red hellions!" he shouted, in a voice like a lion at bay.The light streamed on his bared head, his hands were clinched, his chestheaved in great gasps. There was no movement. The crowd waited withtheir hands lowered; before such a man they could not stand for amoment. They could not meet the blaze of his eyes. For a moment itseemed as if no one breathed.
In the silence that followed, Bill, who had kept gut of sight up to thismoment, piped out in a high, weak falsetto, with a comicallyquestioning accent: "All quiet along the Potomac, boys?"
Lime unbraced, wiped his face and laughed. The others joined incautiously. "No, thank yez, none in mine," said Sheehan, in answer tothe challenge of Lime. "Whan Oi take to fightin' stame-ingins Oi'll lityou knaw."
"Well, I should say so," said another. "Lime, you're the best man thatwalks this State."
"Git out of the way, you white-livered hound, or I'll blow hell out o'yeh," said Steve, who had recovered himself sufficiently to know what itall meant. He lay upon the grass behind the rest and was weakly tryingto get his revolver sighted upon Lime. One of the men caught him by theshoulder and the rest yelled:
"Hyare, Steve, no shootin'. It was a fair go, and you're whipped."
Steve only repeated his warnings to get out of the way. Lime turned uponhim and kicked the weapon from his outstretched hand, breaking his armat the wrist. The bullet went flying harmlessly into the air, and therevolver hurtled away into the shadows.
Walking through the ring, Lime took John by the hand and said: "Come,boy, this is no place for you. Let's go home. Fellers," he drawled inhis customary lazy way, "when y' want me you know where to find me.Come, boys, the circus is over, the last dog is hung."
For the first mile or two there was a good deal of talk, and Bill saidhe knew that Lime could whip the whole crowd.
"But where was you, Bill, about the time they had me down? I don'tremember hearin' anything of you 'long about that time, Bill."
Bill had nothing to say.
"Made me think somehow of Daniel in the lions' den," said Johnny.
"What do you mean by that, Johnny?" said Bill. "It made me think of acircus. The circus there'll be when Lime's woman finds out what he'sbeen a-doin'."
"Great Scott, boys, you mustn't tell on me," said Lime, in genuinealarm.
As for John, he lay with his head in Lime's lap, looking up at the gloryof the starlit night, and with a confused mingling of the play, of thevoice of the lovely woman, of the shouts and blows at the brewery in hismind, and with the murmur of the river and the roll and rumble of thewagon blending in his ears, he fell into a sleep which the rhythmic beatof the horses' hoofs did not interrupt.
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