IF A MAN BITES A DOG*
Edwin Seaver
M
R.
ALFRED RosENBERG champed at the bit on the thresh–
old of Mr. Schmuck's office, flecks of saliva gathering at the
corners of his mouth as he waited fidgeting for the lawyer to
look up from the memorandum he was scratching on a pad.
"Say, did you hear the news"?'' he exploded, unable to con–
tain himself longer, tugging at the creased and soiled newspaper
bulging from the pocket of his jacket. "They caught Two-gun
Dowling."
Mr. Schmuck shifted the extinct butt of a cigar from east
to west with a convulsive twitch of his lips.
"vVhatsat ?" he said without looking up.
"They got Twogun Dowling. You know, the kid that shot
the cop. Jesus! You should've seen the mob."
Mr. Schmuck tore off the memorandum, slipped it under
the glass paperweight and leaned back in his swivelchair com–
fortably, clasping his hands behind his thick neck.
"You know what Horace Greeley said don ' t you?" he said.
Mr. Rosenberg looked bewildered. "You mean go west
young man, go west?"
"Go west hell!" said Mr. Schmuck with disgust. "Say,
where were you educated anyhow? I mean the one about the
man biting the dog."
"Aw, that wasn't Greeley," Mr. Rosenberg said. "That
was Dana, the editor of the Sun."
"He's telling me!" said Mr. Schmuck indicating his neo–
phyte with an indulgent thrust of his chin. "I suppose it was
Greeley who wrote Two Years Before The Masthead, eh
wiseguy?"
"No, that was his father. I mean it was Dana's father."
"You mean his grandmother, don't you?" Mr. Schmuck
gave a high squealing laugh oddly at variance with his heavy,
• Excerpts from the forthcoming novel,
Between the Hammer and the Anvil.
47
