Men without women
“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?