Part 10 (1/2)

Jones occasionally breathed comments into his ear.

”I tell yeh, Bleecker's an ol'-timer. He was a husky guy in his day, yeh can bet. He was one a th' best known men in N' York once. Yeh ought to hear him tell about-”

Kelcey listened intently. He was profoundly interested in these intimate tales of men who had gleamed in the rays of old suns.

”That O'Connor's a d.a.m.n fine fellah,” interjected Jones once, referring to one of the others. ”He's one 'a th' best fellahs I ever knowed. He's always on th' dead level. An' he's always jest th' same as yeh see 'im now-good-natured an' grinnin'.”

Kelcey nodded. He could well believe it.

When he offered to buy drinks there came a loud volley of protests. ”No, no, Mr. Kelcey,” cried Bleecker, ”no, no. Tonight you are our guest. Some other time-”

”Here,” said O'Connor, ”it's my turn now.”

He called and pounded for the bartender. He then sat with a coin in his hand warily eying the others. He was ready to frustrate them if they offered to pay.

After a time Jones began to develop qualities of great eloquence and wit. His companions laughed. ”It's the whiskey talking now,” said Bleecker.

He grew earnest and impa.s.sioned. He delivered speeches on various subjects. His lectures were to him very imposing. The force of his words thrilled him. Sometimes he was overcome.

The others agreed with him in all things. Bleecker grew almost tender, and considerately placed words here and there for his use. As Jones became fiercely energetic the others became more docile in agreeing. They soothed him with friendly interjections.

His mood changed directly. He began to sing popular airs with enthusiasm. He congratulated his companions upon being in his society. They were excited by his frenzy. They began to fraternize in jovial fas.h.i.+on. It was understood that they were true and tender spirits. They had come away from a grinding world filled with men who were harsh.

When one of them chose to divulge some place where the world had pierced him, there was a chorus of violent sympathy. They rejoiced at their temporary isolation and safety.

Once a man, completely drunk, stumbled along the floor of the saloon. He opened the door of the little room and made a show of entering. The men sprang instantly to their feet. They were ready to throttle any invader of their island. They elbowed each other in rivalry as to who should take upon himself the brunt of an encounter.

”Oh!” said the drunken individual, swaying on his legs and blinking at the party, ”oh! thish private room?”

”That's what it is, Willie,” said Jones. ”An' you git outa here er we'll throw yeh out.”

”That's what we will,” said the others.

”Oh,” said the drunken man. He blinked at them aggrievedly for an instant and then went away.

They sat down again. Kelcey felt, in a way, that he would have liked to display his fidelity to the others by whipping the intruder.

The bartender came often. ”Gee, you fellahs er tanks,” he said, in a jocular manner, as he gathered empty gla.s.ses and polished the table with his little towel.

Through the exertions of Jones the little room began to grow clamorous. The tobacco-smoke eddied about the forms of the men in ropes and wreaths. Near the ceiling there was a thick gray cloud.

Each man explained, in his way, that he was totally out of place in the before-mentioned world. They were possessed of various virtues which were unappreciated by those with whom they were commonly obliged to mingle; they were fitted for a tree-shaded land, where everything was peace. Now that five of them had congregated it gave them happiness to speak their inmost thoughts without fear of being misunderstood.

As he drank more beer Kelcey felt his breast expand with manly feeling. He knew that he was capable of sublime things. He wished that some day one of his present companions would come to him for relief. His mind pictured a little scene. In it he was magnificent in his friends.h.i.+p.

He looked upon the beaming faces and knew that if at that instant there should come a time for a great sacrifice he would blissfully make it. He would pa.s.s tranquilly into the unknown, or into bankruptcy, amid the e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of his companions upon his many virtues.

They had no bickerings during the evening. If one chose to momentarily a.s.sert himself, the others instantly submitted.

They exchanged compliments. Once old Bleecker stared at Jones for a few moments. Suddenly he broke out: ”Jones, you're one of the finest fellows I ever knew!” A flush of pleasure went over the other's face, and then he made a modest gesture, the protest of an humble man. ”Don't flim-flam me, ol' boy,” he said, with earnestness. But Bleecker roared that he was serious about it. The two men arose and shook hands emotionally. Jones bunted against the table and knocked off a gla.s.s.

Afterward a general hand-shaking was inaugurated. Brotherly sentiments flew about the room. There was an uproar of fraternal feeling.

Jones began to sing. He beat time with precision and dignity. He gazed into the eyes of his companions, trying to call music from their souls. O'Connor joined in heartily, but with another tune. Off in a corner old Bleecker was making a speech.

The bartender came to the door. ”Gee, you fellahs er making a row. It's time fer me t' shut up th' front th' place, an' you mugs better sit on yerselves. It's one o'clock.”

They began to argue with him. Kelcey, however, sprang to his feet. ”One o'clock,” he said. ”Holy smoke, I mus' be flyin'!”

There came protesting howls from Jones. Bleecker ceased his oration. ”My dear boy-” he began. Kelcey searched for his hat. ”I've gota go t' work at seven,” he said.

The others watched him with discomfort in their eyes. ”Well,” said O'Connor, ”if one goes we might as well all go.” They sadly took their hats and filed out.

The cold air of the street filled Kelcey with vague surprise. It made his head feel hot. As for his legs, they were like willow-twigs.

A few yellow lights blinked. In front of an all-night restaurant a huge red electric lamp hung and sputtered. Horse-car bells jingled far down the street. Overhead a train thundered on the elevated road.

On the sidewalk the men took fervid leave. They clutched hands with extraordinary force and proclaimed, for the last time, ardent and admiring friends.h.i.+ps.

When he arrived at his home Kelcey proceeded with caution. His mother had left a light burning low. He stumbled once in his voyage across the floor. As he paused to listen he heard the sound of little snores coming from her room.

He lay awake for a few moments and thought of the evening. He had a pleasurable consciousness that he had made a good impression upon those fine fellows. He felt that he had spent the most delightful evening of his life.

V.

KELCEY WAS CROSS IN the morning. His mother had been obliged to shake him a great deal, and it had seemed to him a most unjust thing. Also, when he, blinking his eyes, had entered the kitchen, she had said: ”Yeh left th' lamp burnin' all night last night, George. How many times must I tell yeh never t' leave th' lamp burnin'?”

He ate the greater part of his breakfast in silence, moodily stirring his coffee and glaring at a remote corner of the room with eyes that felt as if they had been baked. When he moved his eyelids there was a sensation that they were cracking. In his mouth there was a singular taste. It seemed to him that he had been sucking the end of a wooden spoon. Moreover, his temper was rampant within him. It sought something to devour.

Finally he said, savagely: ”d.a.m.n these early hours!”

His mother jumped as if he had flung a missile at her. ”Why, George-” she began.

Kelcey broke in again. ”Oh, I know all that-but this gettin' up in th' mornin' so early makes me sick. Jest when a man is gettin' his mornin' nap he's gota get up. I-”

”George, dear,” said his mother, ”yeh know how I hate yeh t' swear, dear. Now please don't.” She looked beseechingly at him.

He made a swift gesture. ”Well, I ain't swearin', am I?” he demanded. ”I was on'y sayin' that this gettin'-up business gives me a pain, wasn't I?”

”Well, yeh know how swearin' hurts me,” protested the little old woman. She seemed about to sob. She gazed off retrospectively. She apparently was recalling persons who had never been profane.