40
PARTISAN REVIEW
"Well,'' said Plover, "I see that the government's planning
buying up this poor farm country, turning it into hunting pre–
serves and parks. They'll send the small fellows up to Alaska
to keep cool-tempered."
On their way back to the farm, Hendrickson talked about
the Hones. The old man laid up feeble, had been buffaloed into
signing up the hog-reduction, had to sell his famous guns. Though
old Hone couldn't afford to pay for a hunting license, he had a
picture of Coolidge in a 20-gallon hat in his bedroom and swore
he would take no help from any Democratic government even
if it was a golden scoop.
Late that night Gordon wrote Lanky. And the letter from
Lanky read here was the chance. Here was the class line which
had been furrowed in American earth with the first bull plow
of the colonists. Gordon must keep in touch with the hill fel–
lows. He must keep on writing reports which would be printed
in the paper as farmer correspondence. Here was a chance to
become a good farm organizer-in football lingo, a triple threat
man-a good fighter, writer, speaker.
Gordon muttered, "Oh, you school ma'am, you long drink
of water." He took fire . . He saw himself shoulder to shoulder
with Hone. Then everything turned to ash. He became rest–
less, couldn't put any pep into his work. He lay in bed after
evening chores cursing that old bastard, his father, having his
chicken every night. Then he jumped up cursing himself for a
louse for yearning for money which could be sent to substitute
while he loafed on the bench. He lunged into the night and
found his way down to McFarlane's.
II
Dinny McFarlane kept the smaller hotel, kept hunting dogs
to stud, aAd sold cornwhiskey from the hills on the sly. In a
room behind the bar called the shooting gallery a couple of caly
pigeons had nested in the old days. They had become so riddled
and business so poor that they had cleared out and gone else–
where. Of all the town storekeepers McFarlane was the only
true friend of the hillsmen.
First visit to McFarlane Gordon drank carefully. Second
visit he met Hub and old Hone. The old man, bleary-eyed
and sick, with veins like guts heaped on his slipping hands. Gor–
don treated them to drinks. The old man had dragged down
