The Jungle
Jurgis began again, speaking more slowly and distinctly; before he was
half through the other put out his hand and rested it upon his
shoulder. “Poor ole chappie!” he said. “Been up—hic—up—against it,
hey?”
Then he lurched toward Jurgis, and the hand upon his shoulder became an
arm about his neck. “Up against it myself, ole sport,” he said. “She’s
a hard ole world.”
They were close to a lamppost, and Jurgis got a glimpse of the other.
He was a young fellow—not much over eighteen, with a handsome boyish
face. He wore a silk hat and a rich soft overcoat with a fur collar;
and he smiled at Jurgis with benignant sympathy. “I’m hard up, too, my
goo’ fren’,” he said. “I’ve got cruel parents, or I’d set you up.
Whuzzamatter whizyer?”
“I’ve been in the hospital.”
“Hospital!” exclaimed the young fellow, still smiling sweetly, “thass
too bad! Same’s my Aunt Polly—hic—my Aunt Polly’s in the hospital,
too—ole auntie’s been havin’ twins! Whuzzamatter whiz you?”
“I’ve got a broken arm—” Jurgis began.
“So,” said the other, sympathetically. “That ain’t so bad—you get over
that. I wish somebody’d break _my_ arm, ole chappie—damfidon’t! Then
they’d treat me better—hic—hole me up, ole sport! Whuzzit you wamme
do?”
“I’m hungry, sir,” said Jurgis.
“Hungry! Why don’t you hassome supper?”
“I’ve got no money, sir.”
“No money! Ho, ho—less be chums, ole boy—jess like me! No money,
either—a’most busted! Why don’t you go home, then, same’s me?”
“I haven’t any home,” said Jurgis.
“No home! Stranger in the city, hey? Goo’ God, thass bad! Better come
home wiz me—yes, by Harry, thass the trick, you’ll come home an’
hassome supper—hic—wiz me! Awful lonesome—nobody home! Guv’ner gone
abroad—Bubby on’s honeymoon—Polly havin’ twins—every damn soul gone
away! Nuff—hic—nuff to drive a feller to drink, I say! Only ole Ham
standin’ by, passin’ plates—damfican eat like that, no sir! The club
for me every time, my boy, I say. But then they won’t lemme sleep
there—guv’ner’s orders, by Harry—home every night, sir! Ever hear
anythin’ like that? ‘Every mornin’ do?’ I asked him. ‘No, sir, every
night, or no allowance at all, sir.’ Thass my guv’ner—‘nice as nails,
by Harry! Tole ole Ham to watch me, too—servants spyin’ on me—whuzyer
think that, my fren’? A nice, quiet—hic—goodhearted young feller like
me, an’ his daddy can’t go to Europe—hup!—an’ leave him in peace! Ain’t
that a shame, sir? An’ I gotter go home every evenin’ an’ miss all the
fun, by Harry! Thass whuzzamatter now—thass why I’m here! Hadda come
away an’ leave Kitty—hic—left her cryin’, too—whujja think of that, ole
sport? ‘Lemme go, Kittens,’ says I—‘come early an’ often—I go where
duty—hic—calls me. Farewell, farewell, my own true love—farewell,
farewehell, my—own true—love!’”
This last was a song, and the young gentleman’s voice rose mournful and
wailing, while he swung upon Jurgis’s neck. The latter was glancing
about nervously, lest some one should approach. They were still alone,
however.
“But I came all right, all right,” continued the youngster,
aggressively, “I can—hic—I can have my own way when I want it, by
Harry—Freddie Jones is a hard man to handle when he gets goin’! ‘No,
sir,’ says I, ‘by thunder, and I don’t need anybody goin’ home with me,
either—whujja take me for, hey? Think I’m drunk, dontcha, hey?—I know
you! But I’m no more drunk than you are, Kittens,’ says I to her. And
then says she, ‘Thass true, Freddie dear’ (she’s a smart one, is
Kitty), ‘but I’m stayin’ in the flat, an’ you’re goin’ out into the
cold, cold night!’ ‘Put it in a pome, lovely Kitty,’ says I. ‘No
jokin’, Freddie, my boy,’ says she. ‘Lemme call a cab now, like a good
dear’—but I can call my own cabs, dontcha fool yourself—and I know what
I’m a-doin’, you bet! Say, my fren’, whatcha say—willye come home an’
see me, an’ hassome supper? Come ’long like a good feller—don’t be
haughty! You’re up against it, same as me, an’ you can unerstan’ a
feller; your heart’s in the right place, by Harry—come ’long, ole
chappie, an’ we’ll light up the house, an’ have some fizz, an’ we’ll
raise hell, we will—whoop-la! S’long’s I’m inside the house I can do as
I please—the guv’ner’s own very orders, b’God! Hip! hip!”
They had started down the street, arm in arm, the young man pushing
Jurgis along, half dazed. Jurgis was trying to think what to do—he knew
he could not pass any crowded place with his new acquaintance without
attracting attention and being stopped. It was only because of the
falling snow that people who passed here did not notice anything wrong.
Suddenly, therefore, Jurgis stopped. “Is it very far?” he inquired.
“Not very,” said the other, “Tired, are you, though? Well, we’ll
ride—whatcha say? Good! Call a cab!”
And then, gripping Jurgis tight with one hand, the young fellow began
searching his pockets with the other. “You call, ole sport, an’ I’ll
pay,” he suggested. “How’s that, hey?”
And he pulled out from somewhere a big roll of bills. It was more money
than Jurgis had ever seen in his life before, and he stared at it with
startled eyes.
“Looks like a lot, hey?” said Master Freddie, fumbling with it. “Fool
you, though, ole chappie—they’re all little ones! I’ll be busted in one
week more, sure thing—word of honor. An’ not a cent more till the
first—hic—guv’ner’s orders—hic—not a _cent_, by Harry! Nuff to set a
feller crazy, it is. I sent him a cable, this af’noon—thass one reason
more why I’m goin’ home. ‘Hangin’ on the verge of starvation,’ I
says—‘for the honor of the family—hic—sen’ me some bread. Hunger will
compel me to join you—Freddie.’ Thass what I wired him, by Harry, an’ I
mean it—I’ll run away from school, b’God, if he don’t sen’ me some.”
After this fashion the young gentleman continued to prattle on—and
meantime Jurgis was trembling with excitement. He might grab that wad
of bills and be out of sight in the darkness before the other could
collect his wits. Should he do it? What better had he to hope for, if
he waited longer? But Jurgis had never committed a crime in his life,
and now he hesitated half a second too long. “Freddie” got one bill
loose, and then stuffed the rest back into his trousers’ pocket.
“Here, ole man,” he said, “you take it.” He held it out fluttering.
They were in front of a saloon; and by the light of the window Jurgis
saw that it was a hundred-dollar bill! “You take it,” the other
repeated. “Pay the cabbie an’ keep the change—I’ve got—hic—no head for
business! Guv’ner says so hisself, an’ the guv’ner knows—the guv’ner’s
got a head for business, you bet! ‘All right, guv’ner,’ I told him,
‘you run the show, and I’ll take the tickets!’ An’ so he set Aunt Polly
to watch me—hic—an’ now Polly’s off in the hospital havin’ twins, an’
me out raisin’ Cain! Hello, there! Hey! Call him!”
A cab was driving by; and Jurgis sprang and called, and it swung round
to the curb. Master Freddie clambered in with some difficulty, and
Jurgis had started to follow, when the driver shouted: “Hi, there! Get
out—you!”
Jurgis hesitated, and was half obeying; but his companion broke out:
“Whuzzat? Whuzzamatter wiz you, hey?”
And the cabbie subsided, and Jurgis climbed in. Then Freddie gave a
number on the Lake Shore Drive, and the carriage started away. The
youngster leaned back and snuggled up to Jurgis, murmuring contentedly;
in half a minute he was sound asleep, Jurgis sat shivering, speculating
as to whether he might not still be able to get hold of the roll of
bills. He was afraid to try to go through his companion’s pockets,
however; and besides the cabbie might be on the watch. He had the
hundred safe, and he would have to be content with that.
At the end of half an hour or so the cab stopped. They were out on the
waterfront, and from the east a freezing gale was blowing off the
ice-bound lake. “Here we are,” called the cabbie, and Jurgis awakened
his companion.
Master Freddie sat up with a start.
“Hello!” he said. “Where are we? Whuzzis? Who are you, hey? Oh, yes,
sure nuff! Mos’ forgot you—hic—ole chappie! Home, are we? Lessee!
Br-r-r—it’s cold! Yes—come ’long—we’re home—it ever so—hic—humble!”
Before them there loomed an enormous granite pile, set far back from
the street, and occupying a whole block. By the light of the driveway
lamps Jurgis could see that it had towers and huge gables, like a
mediæval castle. He thought that the young fellow must have made a
mistake—it was inconceivable to him that any person could have a home
like a hotel or the city hall. But he followed in silence, and they
went up the long flight of steps, arm in arm.
“There’s a button here, ole sport,” said Master Freddie. “Hole my arm
while I find her! Steady, now—oh, yes, here she is! Saved!”
A bell rang, and in a few seconds the door was opened. A man in blue
livery stood holding it, and gazing before him, silent as a statue.
They stood for a moment blinking in the light. Then Jurgis felt his
companion pulling, and he stepped in, and the blue automaton closed the
door. Jurgis’s heart was beating wildly; it was a bold thing for him to
do—into what strange unearthly place he was venturing he had no idea.
Aladdin entering his cave could not have been more excited.
The place where he stood was dimly lighted; but he could see a vast
hall, with pillars fading into the darkness above, and a great
staircase opening at the far end of it. The floor was of tesselated
marble, smooth as glass, and from the walls strange shapes loomed out,
woven into huge portieres in rich, harmonious colors, or gleaming from
paintings, wonderful and mysterious-looking in the half-light, purple
and red and golden, like sunset glimmers in a shadowy forest.
The man in livery had moved silently toward them; Master Freddie took
off his hat and handed it to him, and then, letting go of Jurgis’ arm,
tried to get out of his overcoat. After two or three attempts he
accomplished this, with the lackey’s help, and meantime a second man
had approached, a tall and portly personage, solemn as an executioner.
He bore straight down upon Jurgis, who shrank away nervously; he seized
him by the arm without a word, and started toward the door with him.
Then suddenly came Master Freddie’s voice, “Hamilton! My fren’ will
remain wiz me.”
The man paused and half released Jurgis. “Come ’long ole chappie,” said
the other, and Jurgis started toward him.
“Master Frederick!” exclaimed the man.
“See that the cabbie—hic—is paid,” was the other’s response; and he
linked his arm in Jurgis’. Jurgis was about to say, “I have the money
for him,” but he restrained himself. The stout man in uniform signaled
to the other, who went out to the cab, while he followed Jurgis and his
young master.
They went down the great hall, and then turned. Before them were two
huge doors.
“Hamilton,” said Master Freddie.
“Well, sir?” said the other.
“Whuzzamatter wizze dinin’-room doors?”
“Nothing is the matter, sir.”
“Then why dontcha openum?”
The man rolled them back; another vista lost itself in the darkness.
“Lights,” commanded Master Freddie; and the butler pressed a button,
and a flood of brilliant incandescence streamed from above,
half-blinding Jurgis. He stared; and little by little he made out the
great apartment, with a domed ceiling from which the light poured, and
walls that were one enormous painting—nymphs and dryads dancing in a
flower-strewn glade—Diana with her hounds and horses, dashing headlong
through a mountain streamlet—a group of maidens bathing in a forest
pool—all life-size, and so real that Jurgis thought that it was some
work of enchantment, that he was in a dream palace. Then his eye passed
to the long table in the center of the hall, a table black as ebony,
and gleaming with wrought silver and gold. In the center of it was a