Part 48 (1/2)
”What?” asked Saxon.
”That.” The man pointed to the wound in Billy's scalp. ”I laid 'm out.
He went down like a steer, an' got up on his knees dippy, a-gabblin'
about somebody standin' on their foot. He didn't know where he was at, you see, clean groggy. An' then we done it.”
The man paused, the tale told.
”Broke both his arms with the crowbar,” Bud supplemented.
”That's when I come to myself, when the bones broke,” Billy corroborated. ”An' there was the two of 'em givin' me the ha-ha.
'That'll last you some time,' Jackson was sayin'. An' Anson says, 'I'd like to see you drive horses with them arms.' An' then Jackson says, 'let's give 'm something for luck.' An' with that he fetched me a wallop on the jaw--”
”No,” corrected Anson. ”That wallop was mine.”
”Well, it sent me into dreamland over again,” Billy sighed. ”An' when I come to, here was Bud an' Anson an' Jackson dousin' me at a water trough. An' then we dodged a reporter an' all come home together.”
Bud Strothers held up his fist and indicated freshly abraded skin.
”The reporter-guy just insisted on samplin' it,” he said. Then, to Billy: ”That's why I cut around Ninth an' caught up with you down on Sixth.”
A few minutes later Doctor Hentley arrived, and drove the men from the rooms. They waited till he had finished, to a.s.sure themselves of Billy's well being, and then departed. In the kitchen Doctor Hentley washed his hands and gave Saxon final instructions. As he dried himself he sniffed the air and looked toward the stove where a pot was simmering.
”Clams,” he said. ”Where did you buy them?”
”I didn't buy them,” replied Saxon. ”I dug them myself.”
”Not in the marsh?” he asked with quickened interest.
”Yes.”
”Throw them away. Throw them out. They're death and corruption.
Typhoid--I've got three cases now, all traced to the clams and the marsh.”
When he had gone, Saxon obeyed. Still another mark against Oakland, she reflected--Oakland, the man-trap, that poisoned those it could not starve.
”If it wouldn't drive a man to drink,” Billy groaned, when Saxon returned to him. ”Did you ever dream such luck? Look at all my fights in the ring, an' never a broken bone, an' here, snap, snap, just like that, two arms smashed.”
”Oh, it might be worse,” Saxon smiled cheerfully.
”I'd like to know how.
”It might have been your neck.”
”An' a good job. I tell you, Saxon, you gotta show me anything worse.”
”I can,” she said confidently.
”Well?”
”Well, wouldn't it be worse if you intended staying on in Oakland where it might happen again?”