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PARTISAN REVIEW
Right after dinner he went to his room. He took out his
harmonica. A knock at the door.
Hendrickson looked around the room. "Somebody just
called me by phone. Didn't know anything about it. Firkin's
wrist is splintered up. The bones like a meadowlark's."
He closed the door. "I ain't got much use for Firkin
myself. Why in hell did you take sides? Hub's all right, but
those fellows up there'll kill a man quick as spitting. Last year
Hub half killed Ed Pusley who nabbed him suckering out of
season. Threw him down, said he'd make a sucker out of him.
'Hell, with the law. It's been screwing us too long."
Gordon got up and tightened his belt.
"Talked it over with the missus. You're one of the best
hired men we've had. But there's going to be trouble. They'll
come down here. I'm paying you off. No hard feelings."
"Hell with you." Gordon hurled his stuff into his bag, put
shells into his gun. He refused to let Hendrickson drive him
to the edge of town. He tramped down to town and into the
postoffice. He stuffed a letter for him into his pocket and sent
a card to Lanky. No one inside but Mrs. Firkin and the clerk.
The fat woman began heaving as if some one were pumping out
her stomach. He bowed, "Morning ma'am. Tell Firkin I'm in
town if he wants surgery done on his wrist."
He walked over to the hotel. McFarlane was sprawled
over the bar, snoot between paws like a hibernating bear. "So
they ain't pitchforked ye out yet?"
Gordon drank and laughed. "Let them try." He finished
the bottle and looked at his watch. There was a late afternoon
train. He ordered another bottle.
A big boy stamped into the bar. He was hippy with black
greasy hands like steering knuckles. Went over to the pretzel
bowl, fished himself pretzels, and backed out, staring at Gordon.
Gordon worked on the second bottle.
McFarlane walked over to the door. He walked back and
clutched him by the arm. "Say, I got a swell stag's head up-
I
stairs, twelve points." Gordon stumbled after him up to a back
bedroom.
~cFarlane
slipped out and banged the door shut.
Gordon leaped after him and pounded the door with his fists.
He opened the windows. He couldn't risk the jump.
He walked around the room, then flung himself on the bed
with his sleek Damascus. He finished the second bottle. The
last train was leaving the station hooting. A door flung open,
