Saturday 
 Nights
 
 Saturday 
 Nights 
 
 BY 
 
 EARL G. CURTIS 
 
 An American novel that deals 
 with the emotions that lie "below 
 the surface of life emotions 
 that sway the masses that toil 
 
 Chicago 
 The Reilly & Lee Co. 
 
 0- $^
 
 Saturday 
 Nights 
 
 BY 
 
 EARL G. CURTIS 
 
 An American novel that deals 
 with the emotions that lie "below 
 the surface of life emotions 
 that sway the masses that toil 
 
 Chicago 
 The Reilly & Lee Co.
 
 Printed in the V nit ed 8t at e s of America 
 
 Copyright, 1922 
 
 by 
 The Reilly & Lee Co. 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 Saturday Nights
 
 To 
 
 Elizabeth Henry Lyons 
 Great-granddaughter of Patrick 
 Henry, who first encouraged me 
 to write, this book is dedicated 
 
 E. G. C.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 1 A BIT o' WHITE GOODS 9 
 
 2 IN BURLEYTON 16 
 
 3 VICE GOES TO DEARBORN'S 26 
 
 4 OVERTIME ON THE BULK 34 
 
 5 A GOOD RIDDANCE 46 
 
 6 LURE OF THE RIVER 60 
 
 7 VICK WINS PROMOTION 75 
 
 8 GALLOPIN' DICK JESSUP 87 
 
 9 AT THE CROSS-ROADS 98 
 
 10 CAVE-MAN TACTICS 115 
 
 11 THE WAY OF A WOMAN 132 
 
 12 WHEN BURLEYTON WALKED 143 
 
 13 THE DECISION OF VICK 159 
 
 14 A SATURDAY NIGHT 178 
 
 15 VICK'S NEW VIEWPOINT 193 
 
 16 ANOTHER SATURDAY NIGHT 201 
 
 17 BACK AT DEARBORN'S 219 
 
 18 UNRUFFLED WATERS 228 
 
 19 WHEN A MAN'S A FRIEND 243 
 
 20 THE FUTURE BECKONS. . , 253
 
 Saturday Nights 
 
 Chapter 1 
 A BIT O' WHITE GOODS 
 
 Vickery Joyce's gray eyes, brimming with 
 boyish distress, were upon Mrs. Cooper as she 
 started from the room. At the door that opened 
 on the uncarpeted passage the old woman turned 
 and, leaning heavily upon her stick of hickory, 
 faced Vick's sister, who stood as if the pitiful 
 weight of the baby in her arms sagged her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " The little one won't live the night out, Sary," 
 the old woman declared, in the decisive manner 
 of one who had seen many come and go. 
 
 The young mother clasped her child tighter 
 and stared in dumb misery. 
 
 " Not the night out," the neighbor repeated. 
 
 "I can't give her up," Sarah Timmons pro- 
 tested dully. 
 
 "We gen'rally has to give up 'em we love 
 
 9
 
 10 Saturday Nights 
 
 the best, dearie we women. I always has 
 thought if somebody's got to go, why can't it 
 be one of 'em what don't deserve our love an' 
 sorrow. Not 'em like the baby or Vick, here. 
 If 'twas your Jasper, now " 
 
 Sarah shrank as if she had been struck. 
 
 "I ain't meanin' to hurt your feelin's, child, 
 but there ain't no use in beatin' the devil 'round 
 the stump, I say. We women was born to 
 sorrow, an' sorrow we see. Whilst your man, 
 now, is guzzlin' in some bar " 
 
 "Please, Mrs. Cooper, it's more'n I can 
 stand." 
 
 "All right, Sary . . . I'm goin', now." 
 
 Though the task was distasteful Vick accom- 
 panied the old woman through the dark passage 
 and opened the front door. In the past week, 
 from the beginning of the baby's illness, Mrs. 
 Cooper, by her insistent pessimism, had incurred 
 the dislike of the lad's entire fourteen years. To 
 him she was a croaking, withered prophet of 
 evil. 
 
 " I'll be back in a little, Vick," the old woman 
 promised. "You ain't goin' out?" 
 
 " No'm," Vick answered. 
 
 " That's a good lad. 'Tain't so many young 
 ones would want to stay home on a Sattiday
 
 A Bit o' White Goods 11 
 
 night. But you're diffrunt from the rest, seems 
 to me." 
 
 "Yes'm." 
 
 "You listen out for me, then, an* let me in. 
 There's women's work to be done this night." 
 
 The boy closed the door and went back to the 
 scantily furnished bed room. 
 
 "Want me for anything, Sis ?" he asked, try- 
 ing, boylike, to speak indifferently. 
 
 "Not now, Vick," came the weary reply. 
 
 " Call me if you want me." 
 
 In the kitchen the boy took a paper-bound 
 book from the top of the rickety tin-door safe 
 and pulled the lamp nearer to the edge of the 
 table. His elbows on the oilcloth cover, the 
 light almost scorching his rumpled brown hair, 
 he sought the excellent company of Sir Nigel 
 and his gallant band of bowmen. And he was 
 still in the pleasurable perils of "The White 
 Company" when he heard the tapping of Mrs. 
 Cooper's cane at the door. 
 
 With one finger marking his place in the 
 beloved book the lad admitted her and followed 
 her into his sister's room. Under the old neigh- 
 bor's arm was a bundle wrapped in newspaper 
 which she at once opened, disclosing a small roll 
 of cloth.
 
 12 Saturday Nights 
 
 "A bit of white goods to bury the baby in," 
 said Mrs. Cooper, answering the questioning 
 eyes. 
 
 Sarah shuddered and " The White Company " 
 slipped from Vick's fingers. 
 
 "There, there, dearie, just think a minute. 
 To-morrow's Sunday, ain't it? An' the baby 
 ain't goin' to live the night through. You've got 
 to have things ready, ain't you? You've got to 
 have a dress for the buryin'." 
 
 "No, no," Sarah quavered. Vick stared at 
 Mrs. Cooper as if that old woman were the 
 personal messenger of death. 
 
 Mrs. Cooper produced scissors, needle and 
 thread, and calmly began to sew. For an hour 
 she energetically cut and stitched and never for 
 more than an instant did the mother's gaze leave 
 the cloth. Vick tried to read but his mind 
 wandered and his eyes often strayed to the tiny 
 odd-shaped pieces rapidly nearing completion. 
 
 As the old woman sewed she talked, placidly 
 droning her chronicle of births and deaths. 
 Sarah thought she must scream must drop 
 her baby and cover her ears. At last the task 
 was ended and Mrs. Cooper held the garment 
 to the light for a final complacent inspection. 
 
 "A good job, I say."
 
 A Bit o' White Goods 13 
 
 Sarah could not speak. 
 
 "You're worryin' her!" Vick protested. 
 
 "This is a worryin' time," Mrs. Cooper 
 observed placidly. "Bern' a boy, you don't 
 understand." 
 
 "Anyhow, you don't have to put more worry 
 on her," insisted Vick. 
 
 "I'll leave the little dress on the bureau," 
 Mrs. Cooper continued, calmly ignoring the 
 protest. "I'm goin' home for some sleep, bein' 
 as you won't lemme stay the night. Lad, you 
 run over after me when " She stopped 
 abruptly; even she could not but heed the 
 anguish that convulsed the young mother's face. 
 
 " Lay down an' rest, Sary. You can't do the 
 baby no good. You're breakin' yourself down. 
 I know it's hard ter'bly hard," she went on 
 more gently, "but you try an' remember that 
 you ain't but one mother what's gone through 
 the same bitter time." 
 
 "Mrs. Cooper, I couldn't rest!" the younger 
 woman answered passionately. "How could I 
 sleep knowin' my baby was sufferin'? I just 
 can't let her go!" 
 
 Shaking her aged head in commiseration Mrs. 
 Cooper once more went out into the night. 
 
 " Sis, she's tried to be right good to us," Vick
 
 14 Saturday Nights 
 
 commented, "but she does more harm than 
 good, gettin' you down-hearted with that that 
 dress." 
 
 " Mrs. Cooper means well. Vick " Sarah 
 answered drearily. 
 
 "Don't you keep it, Sis." Vick was staring 
 at the tiny garment. " Throw it away." 
 
 " No, no ! " Sarah exclaimed sharply. " Don't 
 touch it, Vick. It skeers me!" 
 
 "I wish she hadn't made it," Vick grumbled. 
 
 After a time Sarah persuaded the boy, in 
 spite of sleepy protests, to go to his cot in the 
 attic. Alone with her baby she dimmed the 
 light and began to pace to and fro, her child 
 upon a pillow in her arms. Once, late in the 
 night, the mother paused before the bureau and, 
 half-crouching, stared at the little garment 
 there, as if it were a living, threatening thing. 
 She did not approach it closely; she would not 
 have dared touch it. 
 
 The sun was looking in the window when 
 Vick awoke. Vaguely aware of some impend- 
 ing evil, he tumbled from his cot. His mind 
 cleared and remembrance sent him hurrying 
 down the stairs. He found the baby asleep in 
 its crib and, on her knees against the bed, he 
 saw his sister in the sleep of exhaustion.
 
 A Bit o' White Goods 15 
 
 Somehow the lad helped Sarah upon the bed. 
 He was covering her, gently if not deftly, when 
 he heard Mrs. Cooper at the door. When the 
 boy admitted her, the old woman's first eager 
 question was: 
 
 "An* the little one is dead, ain't she?" 
 
 Not stopping for reply Mrs. Cooper hurried 
 into the room .and over to the crib. She looked 
 down on the sleeping baby. And to the old 
 woman, well-meaning in spite of her insistent 
 predictions of death, there came the faintest 
 touch of disappointment. Had her years of 
 experience with the ebb and flow of life and 
 death taught her nothing? At length she turned 
 to Vick, bobbing her head in cheerful conviction. 
 
 " The baby'll live," she told the boy. " She'll 
 live, I say." 
 
 She hobbled over and patted the shoulder of 
 tKe sleeping Sarah and that show of affection 
 ended Vick's dislike of her. He was smiling 
 as he sought the sink in the kitchen to wash 
 away the last traces of slumber from his face. 
 
 Not long after Mrs. Cooper, toothlessly mum- 
 bling at the miracle of it all, tapped her way 
 across the cobbled street; and under Her arm was 
 a small bundle wrapped in a piece of newspaper.
 
 Chapter 2 
 IN BURLEYTON 
 
 The city, ill-planned from its beginning or 
 not planned at all stretched its length along 
 the edge of the turbulent river. Higher up the 
 yellow stream, near the rock-strewn falls, which 
 each summer exacted their toll of the lads of 
 Burleyton, the blue clay bluffs of The Heights 
 climbed steeply. 
 
 From the exclusive altitude of the unbroken 
 plateau the brain and blood and money of the 
 city looked complacently down on the roofs of 
 the community's less fortunate folk. Those of 
 Burleyton who dwelt on The Heights could 
 appreciate their sweet-aired retreat, their escape 
 from the pungent, distasteful odor of tobacco 
 in the manufacturing, whence came their money. 
 The workers, from intimate daily contact with 
 the golden dust of the city's industry, scarcely 
 noticed the penetrating fumes. 
 
 Below The Heights, Tobacco Flats sprawled 
 along the stream, its winding streets duplicating 
 
 16
 
 In Burleyton 17 
 
 every bend of the river. Along the bank, crowd- 
 ing to the water's edge, were block after block 
 of brick-walled factories with towering chimneys 
 scratching the sky line. Humming, sweating 
 human hives, these, from which tobacco in its 
 every form was shipped to many lands to sat- 
 isfy the appetite of men. 
 
 Upon a gentle slope, sweeping back from the 
 factory-lined river, the homes of those who 
 labored stood row after row, very close, along 
 the shabby streets and shabbier unpaved alleys. 
 
 At the lower end of the city, where the stream 
 flowed in a graceful, swift-rushing curve, Little 
 Hell which had earned its name, long since 
 lay snugly in the hollow of the river's arm. 
 
 In one of the meanest streets of the Flats 
 was the home of little Vick Joyce, a dilapidated 
 cottage of two rooms and the attic where the 
 boy slept. The house was perched unsteadily 
 upon three-foot brick columns that every 
 moment threatened to collapse. Beneath the 
 structure the winds of winter swept unchecked, 
 whipping upward through the wide cracks of 
 the time-warped floor. 
 
 Wretched as was this home it satisfied Jasper 
 Timmons. It was bitterly cold in winter but 
 there were big, cherry-red stoves in the barrooms
 
 18 Saturday Nights 
 
 and there he spent most of his idle hours. The 
 house was big enough; the back room for cook- 
 ing and eating, the front room for sleeping 
 what time he slept at home. He needed no 
 more. 
 
 In the previous December Vick's father had 
 died, leaving him alone in the world but for his 
 married sister. Sarah had watched for her 
 opportunity, and catching her husband in an 
 amiable mood, a difficult feat, be it understood, 
 had prevailed upon him to let the boy make his 
 home with them. 
 
 So Vick came to live in Yarder Street, with a 
 laboriously accumulated bundle of books, dime 
 editions of famous works, and little else. Of 
 his books "The White Company" was his 
 favorite; he worshiped Sir Nigel in humble rev- 
 erence. Timmons had profanely insisted that 
 the boy at once seek work. Vick was no better 
 than he, he informed Sarah with profane empha- 
 sis, and he had gone into a factory when he was 
 younger by a year tHan Vick, as, indeed, had 
 the great majority of those who lived in Tobacco 
 Flats. Sarah, though fearful, had protested 
 and obtained grudging permission for Vick to 
 finish the term at the grammar school. 
 
 This session would gain him admittance to
 
 In Burleyton 19 
 
 Burleyton High, if he could remain in school 
 and that Vick wanted to do above all but he 
 knew that Timmons never would agree, so his 
 hopes of high school, his dream of college, faded 
 and he began to count the days that remained 
 before he must pass through the gates at 
 Dearborn's. 
 
 If these were dreary days for Vick they were 
 no brighter for his sister. Sarah had found 
 married life, with such a husband as Jasper 
 Timmons, far from what she had imagined it to 
 be in the days of her girlhood. It lightened her 
 burden not a bit to realize that she had married, 
 not for love, but to escape the fate of so many 
 of her Burleyton sisters, work in the tobacco 
 factories. That had appeared to her the worst 
 possible life. Now she laughed bitterly as she 
 thought of it; work, even the hardest, would 
 have been pleasure compared to life with Jasper 
 Timmons. 
 
 From the first days of their married life the 
 man had proved harsh and cruel, coming home 
 drunk when he came at all. The coming of 
 the baby served but to increase his ill temper 
 and the infant's illness he regarded as the crown- 
 ing injustice done him by his wife. Sarah grew 
 to welcome the Saturday nights that her hus-
 
 20 Saturday Nights 
 
 band spent in the Burleyton saloons; life would 
 have been more endurable then but for the fact 
 that when he did not come home there was no 
 money. Somehow she managed to make ends 
 meet or nearly meet, and found what solace 
 
 she could in her baby and her brother. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Timmons, leaving his wife alone in her 
 anguished watch, did not cross the threshold of 
 his home until the Monday morning following 
 the crisis in the life of his child. That Saturday 
 night, and the day and night of Sunday, he 
 stayed away. SaraH could Have guessed his 
 whereabouts had she bothered. 
 
 He came in with the break of day, surly and 
 breathing of barrooms. His lank, uncombed 
 black hair was plastered against his forehead 
 and the muscles of his limbs jerked with the 
 nervousness of dissipation. From between lids 
 heavy with the weight of sleepless hours his eyes 
 glowed with alcoholic anger. 
 
 Sarah heard him stumble into the passage 
 and, leaving the baby in peaceful slumber, 
 hastened into the kitchen. Timmons leered as 
 if daring her to expostulate but she had no word 
 for him. He offered no explanation of, or 
 excuse for his prolonged absence and she held
 
 In Burleyton 21 
 
 herself aloof, cold of eye, disdaining to evince 
 the slightest interest in his goings and comings. 
 Deftly she prepared what there was for break- 
 fast and Timmons, after washing his face at the 
 sink, clumped to the table. 
 
 Eating was not for him that morning; he 
 swore viciously at the food but gulped down the 
 steaming, black coffee. It was half-past six 
 when he noisily thrust back his chair from the 
 table and jammed a disreputable hat upon his 
 throbbing head. The seven o'clock whistle must 
 find him on his floor at Dearborn's, where he 
 bossed a gang of negro stemmers. At the door 
 he turned, with an oath at his forgetfulness. 
 
 "Where's that blasted kid?" he demanded, his 
 voice husky. 
 
 "Upstairs." 
 
 " The pampered pup ! " Timmons exclaimed. 
 "Here I'm sick's a dog an' got to go to work, 
 an' he's up there snoozin'. Get him up!" 
 
 "He don't leave for school till after eight. 
 There ain't no need of him gettin' up this 
 early." 
 
 "There ain't?" Timmons blustered. "I say 
 there is, an' you ought to know by this time 
 that what I say goes. I got him a job at Dear- 
 born's and he's due there this mornin'."
 
 22 Saturday Nights 
 
 "Have you forgot that you promised to let 
 him finish the grammar school ? " For the 
 sake of the little brother Sarah tried to speak 
 pleasantly. 
 
 "I ain't forgot nothin'. I say he's goin' to 
 work an' pay his own way." 
 
 Sarah eyed the angry man calmly. The 
 events of recent days had given her a certain 
 faith in herself a self-reliance long lacking. 
 She was touched with the spirit that had been 
 hers in the days of her girlhood. 
 
 "Lemme tell you somethin', Jasper Tim- 
 mons!" she answered, quivering in her indigna- 
 tion. " You'd just as well go on to the fact'ry. 
 Vick ain't goin' to work this mornin' at Dear- 
 born's or any other place. He's set his heart 
 on finishin' the grammar school, at least, an' I 
 say he's goin' to!" 
 
 "I been hearin' that song long 'nough," 
 Timmons sneered. 
 
 "The first of February, next We'nesday, is 
 the last day. He'll finish then." There was no 
 small pride in her voice. " Thursday he'll go to 
 Dearborn's. He expects to go to work then. 
 He shan't go before." 
 
 "Yah!" Timmons snarled. "That's all I 
 been hearin' school this an' school that. What
 
 In Burleyton 23 
 
 good'll schoolin' do him in a tobacco fact ry? I 
 didn't finish no school." 
 
 "Did you want to?" 
 
 "I had more sense than to waste my time 
 thataway. I knew I had to dig for my livin' 
 an* I got out an' dug. I didn't have no sucker 
 of a brother-in-law to sponge on. I got that kid 
 a job an' he's got to get to work. That's all 
 there's to it!" 
 
 "Thursday," Sarah said stubbornly. 
 
 "I'm tired of feedin' him." 
 
 "From the way you been actin' you're tired 
 of feedin' us all," the wife bitterly commented. 
 
 'You won't get as much as you been gettin' 
 if you keep on playin' with me," Timmons 
 
 threatened, and slammed the door behind him. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Vick stood with the boys of the graduating 
 class under the knobby old mulberry tree that 
 graced the front yard of the school. To the lad 
 the naked limbs of the tree were as familiar as 
 the fingers of his hands. The girls of the class, 
 with shining eyes and glowing cheeks flowers 
 against the russet background of the old brick 
 building clustered upon the weather-beaten 
 steps as the boys formed in line to march up to 
 Burleyton High.
 
 24 Saturday Nights 
 
 In the confusion Vick slipped away from his 
 schoolmates. He was one of them no more. 
 The day was cold and he shivered in his thread- 
 bare jacket as he leaned against the picket fence. 
 There was a painful lump in his throat but with 
 the pride of boyhood he choked back his dis- 
 appointment. The little column swung off 
 down the street and Vick, with yearning eyes, 
 watched those lucky ones until, two blocks away, 
 they disappeared around a corner. 
 
 The lad felt a light touch upon his arm and 
 he stifled his sigh of disappointment. Beside 
 him stood Hesba Wyatt, as shy-eyed and incon- 
 spicuous as usual, but smiling. Vick and the 
 girl had won their way through Springview 
 School always in the same class. Vick liked 
 Hesba and this liking increased his natural shy- 
 ness till he was miserable when they met. 
 
 "I'm sorry, Vick," the girl said. "I'm not 
 going up, either." 
 
 'You're not going to work?" Vick exclaimed. 
 
 " No. At least not yet. But mother couldn't 
 afford to buy me the books for High. They 
 cost over twelve dollars. . . . Anyhow," the 
 girl added bravely, "mother needs me at home." 
 
 With a demure good-bye she left Vick dig- 
 ging his toe in the ground and staring at the old
 
 In Burleyton 25 
 
 school house. He thought sadly of the days he 
 had spent there, with their fun and sorrow. He 
 thought of his favorite teacher and how they 
 had talked of the day when he could go to col- 
 lege. Now it was all over ; tomorrow he started 
 to work at Dearhorn's. With heavy feet Vick at 
 length turned toward the house in Yarder 
 Street
 
 Thursday morning Sarah prepared two 
 lunches instead of one. At her call Vick came 
 down from the attic and a few moments later 
 was hastily swallowing his breakfast, fearful of 
 delaying the departure of the hurrying Tim- 
 mons. 
 
 The lad never forgot his first morning at 
 Dearborn's. They reached the factory, a ten- 
 minute walk from the tumble-down house in 
 Yarder Street, a quarter-hour before the whistle 
 blew for seven, when the entrance would be 
 barred to late comers. 
 
 They climbed the stairs to the third floor, the 
 top, where Timmons took the youngster to a 
 shirt-sleeved giant of a man from whom good- 
 nature seemed to ooze. 
 
 " This is the kid, Lynn. Put him to work, will 
 you?" said Timmons. 
 
 Lynn gravely regarded the lad, who, tongue- 
 tied as usual, held his distance. Then the man 
 
 26
 
 Vick Goes to Dearborn's 27 
 
 
 
 smiled. His smooth pink cheeks rolled up until 
 they nearly obliterated his eyes, and Vick's shy- 
 ness surrendered to the amiability which radiated 
 from his boss. 
 
 " What's your name ? " Lynn asked pleas- 
 antly. 
 
 "Vickery Joyce, sir." 
 
 "Just call him Vick," Timmons said shortly. 
 
 "All right. Come along, Vick." 
 
 Lynn showed the youngster a nail in the wall 
 where he might hang his coat. This done, Vick 
 found himself the target of a battery of ap- 
 praising stares from a group of boys about his 
 own age who lounged sleepily near-by, his 
 future comrades in toil. 
 
 The whistle signaled the real beginning of 
 the day and Lynn led Vick to a square, low 
 table at which three boys had taken their places. 
 Vick took the stool at the vacant side. On the 
 table were four shoe brushes, from which daub- 
 ers and handles had been cut. 
 
 "This is Vick Joyce, boys. Dill, you start 
 him off," Lynn directed, and waddled away to 
 more important duties. 
 
 The lad whom he had addressed, a little older 
 than his companions, sat to Vick's right. A 
 corner of his mouth twisted upward in a per-
 
 28 Saturday Nights 
 
 petual leer which added years to features dis- 
 agreeable enough otherwise. He handed the 
 newcomer one of the brushes. 
 
 "That's yours," he said gruffly, much as Jas- 
 per Timmons might have said it. 
 
 The youth directly across from Vick surveyed 
 him with the frank curiosity of boyhood. Here 
 was one of whom it could not be said merely 
 that he had freckles his face was one brown 
 splotch of them, from the roots of his shock of 
 sandy hair down to his chin. He noted the be- 
 ginner's lack of ease and he took the trouble to 
 bestow upon Vick a deliberate grin of com- 
 radery. 
 
 "Just's well make yourself at home," he ad- 
 vised, in a lazy drawl that was half a yawn. 
 
 To the remaining boy Vick was apparently 
 no source of interest whatever. He could not 
 have been more than ten and was about two- 
 thirds asleep. Once Vick was certain he would 
 tumble from his stool, but at the critical moment 
 he waked, blinked, and wearily humped his 
 scrawny shoulders again. 
 
 In the immediate vicinity three more tables 
 were surrounded by their quota of boys. A 
 tall, muscular darky, stripped to undershirt and 
 trousers, bore down on Vick's circle, burdened
 
 Vick Goes to Dearborn's 29 
 
 with a slatted crate of loose leaf tobacco, made 
 flexible by raw steam. Unceremoniously, the 
 darky dumped the contents of the crate upon 
 the middle of the table. 
 
 Dill, with a knowing glance at his com- 
 panions, shoved the greater portion of the steam- 
 ing mass under Vick's nose. The vapor almost 
 hid the lad and the fumes choked him, yet, as 
 much as he wanted to, he would not leave the 
 table. Gasping, he pluckily held his place. 
 
 "Aw, Dill, what you tryin' to do ?" he of the 
 sandy hair remonstrated. 
 
 "Toughen him up, Shad," Dill replied. 
 
 "That's dirty he ain't used to it." 
 
 "He's got to be sick, ain't he?" Dill asked 
 sneeringly, and answered the question for him- 
 self, "Sure he has!" 
 
 "He ain't bound to," Shad protested. "I 
 never was sick." 
 
 "But he's going to be, all right," Dill glee- 
 fully announced. "Look at him now." 
 
 In truth, Vick was ill. Deep in the pit of 
 his stomach an uneasy stir threatened for a 
 period to overcome him. But he desperately 
 resisted and at length with a grunt of dis- 
 approval Shad leaned over and swept the pile 
 of tobacco back to the center of the table.
 
 30 Saturday Nights 
 
 "If Lynn knew this he'd sure hop you?" he 
 said to Dill. 
 
 " Rats ! " Thus Dill expressed his contempt 
 of authority. 
 
 "Here, you, Jimmy." Shad poked a rude 
 forefinger into the ribs of the fourth boy. 
 "Change places with Vick here. Lemme show 
 him what he's got to do." 
 
 Vick learned to spread the tobacco flat, hold- 
 ing it open with fingers stretched, and with his 
 brush clean each leaf of the fine white sand that 
 clung to it. This leaf, of the finest grade, went 
 into the making of a brand of "chewing" that 
 had much to do with making Dearborn's an 
 establishment to be reckoned with in the to- 
 bacco industry. 
 
 A simple enough task, requiring nothing of 
 brains and little of muscular effort, yet well 
 worth the wages it brought each Saturday to the 
 youthful wielders of the brush; one dollar and 
 eighty cents a week, if a lad worked full time, 
 thirty cents a day, ten hours at three cents an 
 hour. 
 
 Vick, though the odious vapor gave him a 
 headache, gradually began to take interest in 
 the busy scene in which he played so unimportant 
 a part.
 
 Vick Goes to Dearborn's 31 
 
 In gangs of half a score or more negro stem- 
 mers sat in circles around piles of loose tobacco. 
 Down the room, where at intervals the sun 
 somehow penetrated the dust-yellowed glass of 
 the windows, the bright tin cutters gleamed on 
 the thumbs of the workers as, with admirable 
 economy of movement, they slashed the stems 
 free of the leaves. A monster hogshead rolled 
 past, propelled by the shoulders of a sweating 
 quartette of black and brown huskies, the strain- 
 ing slats creaking snapping protests at the 
 weight they encompassed. 
 
 When the whistle blew at noon Vick did not 
 disturb the lunch in his coat pocket. Crate after 
 crate of the steaming leaf had been dumped on 
 his table, and now his stomach revolted at the 
 idea of food. The stemmers disappeared down 
 the stairs to the shops outside on Main Street, 
 where a can of soup and a pone of corn bread 
 were to be had for a nickel. Finding a place 
 near Vick, Shad began to eat biscuit sand- 
 wiches with an appetite which was at least 
 vigorous, 
 
 "Didn't you bring a lunch?" he mumbled, 
 mouth full. 
 
 "I don't feel much like eating," Vick an- 
 swered, attempting to smile.
 
 32 Saturday Nights 
 
 "It gen'rally always makes 'em sick," Shad 
 said with laconic directness. " You'll be all 
 right by to-morrow, I reggon." 
 
 "Do all the boys get sick?" 
 
 "Some are sicker'n others but they're all 
 squeamish all 'cept me," Shad proudly an- 
 swered. "They had to send Dill down in the 
 yard for air." 
 
 "Then why was he so crazy to see me sick?" 
 Vick asked in surprise. 
 
 "Aw, that's just his meanness," Shad replied. 
 "Dill's nachully mean an' he likes to pick on 
 the new boys. But don't you bother 'bout him. 
 Me an* you're friends, hey?" 
 
 "I'd like for it to be that way, Shad." 
 
 The hours of the afternoon were longer than 
 those of the morning, and when at last six 
 o'clock unbarred the factory doors it was a worn- 
 out, headachy Vick who set out for Yarder 
 Street. 
 
 The lad refused to be downcast. Tomorrow 
 he would feel better would be more accus- 
 tomed to the steaming vapor. Shad had said 
 so. As Vick hurried along the keen winter air 
 cleared his brain and the incidents of the day 
 trouped in troubled array before him. He 
 glowed at the memory of the simple friendship
 
 Vick Goes to Dearborn's 33 
 
 that had come to him unsought, yet none the 
 less welcome. The companionship of Shad 
 whose real name was Carlyle Fish would go 
 far toward lightening the burden of the long 
 work days. 
 
 At the memory of Dill, Vick's lips tightened 
 in resentment. He knew he would never over- 
 come his dislike of the leering-faced boy and it 
 came to him that in Dill were the makings, in 
 foul words and sneaking acts, of a second Jasper 
 Timmons.
 
 Chapter 4 
 OVERTIME ON THE BULK 
 
 Dearborn's was a large establishment, even 
 for a tobacco town like Burleyton. The tables 
 of the brushers occupied only a small part of 
 the third floor, most of which was allotted to the 
 stemmers, negroes all men, women and chil- 
 dren. Hanging from enormous rafters over- 
 head sheaves of yellow tobacco "hands" 
 bound and tied at the thick-stemmed butts by a 
 single twisted leaf, gave to the farther recesses 
 of the huge room the weird dimness of a low- 
 roofed cavern. 
 
 At the rear, near the head of the stairs, was 
 the steaming room, the murky interior of which 
 was walled ceiling-high with rack upon rack 
 of steel pipe. In this air-tight compartment 
 "hands" of tobacco, fresh from the hogsheads 
 and as hard and brittle as glass, were steamed 
 into workable pliability. 
 
 This evening the quitting whistle at Dear- 
 born's meant six o'clock, and nothing else, to 
 
 34
 
 Overtime on the Bulk 35 
 
 those of the third floor. The command had 
 been passed from the superintendent through 
 the foremen to the least inconsequential worker, 
 " Overtime on the bulk." Shad interpreted for 
 the benefit of Vick. 
 
 "What's it mean? Means we got to stay 
 till 'bout ten to-night, untyin' bunches of stinkin' 
 tobacco an' loosenin' up the leaves for the 
 stemmers." 
 
 " When do we eat our supper? " Vick wanted 
 to know. 
 
 Shad grinned. "You ain't goin' to get no 
 supper not till we've worked the bulk." 
 
 In a large cleared space just outside the 
 steaming room a mammoth pile of tobacco lay 
 the bulk. Its top touched the rafters and 
 from it steam rose as from a miniature volcano. 
 The youthful brushers wearily followed the 
 throng of stemmers and hogshead men, each 
 carrying a stool or empty box. They arranged 
 themselves in a circle surrounding the bulk, 
 every one leaving floor space at the left to drop 
 the unbound leaves. 
 
 The boys gravitated naturally into a little line 
 of their own and Shad showed Vick how to re- 
 lease, without tearing, the leaf that secured each 
 "hand." Another treatment of the steam and
 
 36 Saturday Nights 
 
 the leaves would be ready for the slashing cuts of 
 the stemmers. 
 
 At Dearborn's, the lump room occupied the 
 second floor. There the stemless tobacco was 
 treated to a bath in vats of thinned licorice and 
 grape-sugar, and thus sweetened, was jammed 
 into close-packed "lumps" unfinished plugs 
 of "chewing" by the darky lump-makers. 
 Here, too, each lump acquired its binder, a 
 wrapper of tiny-veined leaf, from the nimble 
 fingers of the nip-coverers. 
 
 On the first floor was the press room. Here 
 the lumps were tagged and rammed into racks 
 of oblong cups, "simpers," top and bottom in 
 contact with sheets of tin well greased with a 
 savory mixture of rum and oil, for flavor; then 
 squeezed into marketable thinness by hydraulic 
 pressure before the final packing, under the 
 "screws," into wooden caddies. 
 
 As Vick settled himself to the new task his 
 eyes roved curiously, scanning faces of black 
 and shades of brown, some wonderfully myste- 
 rious under the flare of naked gas lights which 
 flickered against the whitewashed walls. 
 
 Very near the lad a fat old mammy, jowl- 
 bulging and mountainous, sat crooning to two 
 of her brood who labored at her side, and Vick's
 
 Overtime on the Bulk 37 
 
 interest centered upon this yellow-turbaned 
 darky as she began to sway unsteadily on her 
 creaky cracker box. Suddenly the old woman 
 started a soul-stirring hymn, her shrill voice 
 rising quickly to a scream, wild and exultant. 
 
 " Go-o an' fin' de one I lo-ove 
 Go-o an' bring him ba-ack 
 Bring him back to Je-e-sus " 
 
 At once the negroes, even to the unseen side 
 of the circle, swept impetuously into the emo- 
 tional chant, their bodies swinging in instinctive 
 rhythm, and the natural sweetness of their un- 
 trained voices rose and blended into harmony 
 that caused Vick to forget his work and sit idle, 
 listening. 
 
 "Better wake up," Shad said. "You ain't 
 doin' a thing, Vick." 
 
 "It's grand the way they sing," Vick an- 
 swered. "Don't you like to hear 'em, Shad?" 
 
 "This here's overtime." 
 
 "But ain't it fine?" 
 
 Shad shrugged. "You soon get used to it," 
 he told Vick. "Course 'taint nobody can beat 
 'em singin,' an' it's all mighty nice for 'em 
 dressed-up folks what comes to the fact'ry to
 
 38 Saturday Mghts 
 
 hear 'em but you'll be like me after a while. 
 
 It's all in the day's work." 
 
 ***** 
 
 In the beginning Vick could not help but 
 resent his new mode of existence. But he came 
 to believe, he had to believe, that what was to be, 
 would be; the increasing friendship with his 
 factory mates gave to him a different view- 
 point of life as it was lived in Burleyton, and 
 he accepted his lowly state as a matter of course. 
 The stork had dropped him within the indigent 
 confines of Tobacco Flats, where Saturday was 
 the beginning and the ending of the week, the 
 only worth-while day of the seven. The lad 
 understood fully that he was for the factory 
 if not Dearborn's, then some other. School, 
 now, was in a past already strangely dim and 
 he became as sloven of speech as Shad, who was 
 by choice a conscienceless barbarian. 
 
 In the bleak wintry days of March Vick en- 
 tered the factory before the coming of broad 
 daylight, and the darkness had returned when 
 he wriggled into his coat, another thirty cents 
 earned. At noon each Saturday he received his 
 pay envelope and, the seal intact, carried the 
 money to his sister. Timmons had grown more 
 neglectful, if that were possible, and Sarah was
 
 Overtime on the Bulk 39 
 
 thankful for the boy's money. His share of his 
 pay was one dime, which invariably was spent 
 at a second-hand book store kept by a negro 
 shoemaker down near the market. 
 
 Came a forenoon at Dearborn's when the 
 speaking tube, clasped against an oaken pillar 
 behind Vick, breathed a raucous blast that in- 
 stantly received the attention of Lynn. He 
 nodded his understanding as he listened. 
 
 "All right," he shouted, and snapped shut the 
 whistle in the mouth of the tube. 
 
 " They want help in the smokin' room," Shad 
 hopefully guessed. 
 
 Lynn rumpled his hair in momentary inde- 
 cision. 
 
 " Jarrett wants two of you down in the base- 
 ment," he said. 
 
 The eager intentness upon the faces of the 
 boys showed that a place in the smoking room 
 was more desirable. Vick had before this hour 
 listened to the shop gossip of easier work and 
 more money in the basement where the smoking 
 tobacco was pouched, and he was as eager as the 
 rest for a chance to win a steady job there. 
 
 "Dill, you go," Lynn ordered, "an' take Vick 
 with you." 
 
 The genial foreman had not failed to note the
 
 40 Saturday Nights 
 
 antagonism between the two lads, and it was 
 his wholesome wish that his young underlings 
 should work, since they had to work, in agree- 
 able harmony. Therefore he sent them together. 
 Aside from this he had an idea that Vick was 
 of better stuff than the others and he had decided 
 some time before that he would give the boy an 
 opportunity to better himself. Lynn, himself 
 a bachelor, had known the lad's sister in the days 
 when she was Sarah Joyce. 
 
 Vick followed Dill and in his zest for the new 
 task he failed to see the warning wink of Shad. 
 Instead of heading directly for the stairs the 
 elder boy, a smirk upon his face, made straight 
 for the elevator shaft. 
 
 The elevator at Dearborn's was raised by man- 
 power, and in the descent its weight allowed it 
 to drop until stopped by the check-line. Loaded 
 with a hogshead of tobacco it required the united 
 strength of six brawny negroes, two stationed on 
 each floor, to pull it upward. 
 
 Dill peered into the shaft and chuckled his 
 satisfaction when he found the roofless car at 
 the basement landing, idle for the minute. With 
 a shifty backward glance to assure himself that 
 no boss saw him, he poised himself, and leaped 
 outward. His hands caught the steel cable that
 
 Overtime on the Bulk 41 
 
 hung from the drum a few feet overhead and 
 there he clung like a monkey. 
 
 "What you doin'?" Vick cried. 
 
 " Goin' down to the smokin' room," Dill sneer- 
 ingly answered. "Come on you skeered?" 
 
 "Naw," Vick resolutely replied. 
 
 "Then come on. Jarrett's waitin' for us. 
 Lynn'll see you wanter get us fired?" 
 
 Safe descent by the stairs would have branded 
 Vick a coward in the mind of Dill. Shad and 
 the others would certainly hear of it; the mock- 
 ing face of the youth on the cable promised that. 
 
 Vick knew he would miss the cable and his 
 vivid imagination made him see himself, bruised 
 and lifeless, at the bottom of the shaft. Yet he 
 sprang. And the momentum of the ill-judged 
 leap was nearly his undoing. The impact of his 
 body against the cable threw him back, but his 
 fingers, frantically clutching, caught and held, 
 though he slipped perilously, his feet jamming 
 the shoulders of the sneering Dill, before he 
 gained complete control of his actions. 
 
 " What you tryin' to do knock me off? " Dill 
 snarled. 
 
 With nothing between him and the bottom 
 but Dill and eighty feet of cable Vick hung on 
 grimly.
 
 42 Saturday Mghts 
 
 "Naw, I ain't tryin' to knock you off," he 
 answered. 'You started this thing finish it," 
 he retorted. 
 
 Down on the first floor a darky leaned into 
 the shaft, spat, and noted that the elevator was 
 empty. He pulled the check-line tight and se- 
 cured it to a hook, thus releasing the trigger on 
 the drum above. At his side swung a two-inch 
 rope and upon this he heaved mightily. The 
 elevator began to rise. 
 
 Overhead, Vick felt himself go up as the cable 
 began to wind upon the drum. He heard Dill's 
 cry of terror. He knew that to cling to the 
 rising cable meant crushed hands and a hor- 
 rible fall. 
 
 "Slide down!" he called to Dill. 
 
 This Dill did, heedless of possible broken 
 threads of the woven cable that would have 
 slashed him like knives. Vick lowered himself 
 more cautiously, now and again glancing up at 
 the drum to make sure that he held his distance. 
 
 The platform of the elevator was even with 
 his floor, and stationary, when the darky 
 stepped upon it. Dill, and a moment after, 
 Vick, dropped at the surprised negro's side. 
 
 " One ob dese here days you boys gwineter fall 
 on top a man an' hu't him," he grumbled. "An*
 
 Overtime on the Bulk 43 
 
 kill yo'selbes in de bargain," he added, but the 
 boys had fled before he concluded his warning. 
 
 Jarrett put Vick to work " weighing up." His 
 task was always to have in readiness upon the 
 scales an exact four ounces of tobacco for the 
 gaping mouths of the tins, over the smaller ends 
 of which cloth sacks were "skinned" with an in- 
 strument used in much the same manner as a 
 shoe horn. 
 
 There is a deftness gained only by practice 
 and natural aptitude in picking up the exact 
 weight of "shag" or "granulated" and dropping 
 it into the scoop. Taking the time to add or 
 subtract a bit delays the entire line of hurrying 
 workers. 
 
 Sometimes Vick's scoop was too light, and 
 then too heavy, and he added and took away in 
 frantic haste, seeking an even balance. There 
 followed a noisy protest whenever the empty 
 tins piled up on him. But the lad kept resolutely 
 at the task and noon found him doing well 
 enough. 
 
 As usual at lunch time he sought the company 
 of Shad and while they ate he told his chum of 
 the adventure in the elevator shaft. 
 
 'You got to watch that scum," Shad warned 
 him. "Dill's mean an' he don't like you, an'
 
 44 Saturday Nights 
 
 in his sneaky way he'll try an' get the bosses 
 down on you." 
 
 "I got my eyes on him," Vick answered con- 
 fidently. " I ain't skeered of him." 
 
 "I know you ain't," Shad agreed. "But if 
 he had it in for me, an' me an' him was on that 
 cable together, I'd be kinder leery." 
 
 Vick did well the early part of the afternoon. 
 In fact, in his youthful optimism, he arrived at 
 the conclusion that as a weigher-up he was a 
 success. Visions of a raise in wages more 
 money on Saturday for Sarah thrilled him. 
 
 He was whistling, unheard in all the clatter, 
 when old Mr. Dearborn himself stepped into 
 the room. Several times Vick, at a distance 
 he had not desired lessened, had seen the owner 
 of the factory, who hid the real kindness of his 
 heart beneath a blustering manner. His beard, 
 snow-white, except where the juice of his fa- 
 vorite plug had stained it, reached halfway to 
 his waist. He was fully conscious of his power 
 and had the habit, embarrassing at times to his 
 foremen, of appearing unexpectedly for a 
 critical inspection. And what he failed to see 
 was not worth seeing. 
 
 There was a surprised pause as the " big boss" 
 entered, and then a deafening slam and bang to
 
 Overtime on the Bulk 45 
 
 make up for the momentary loss of time. In 
 the brief interval Dill, across the table from the 
 scales, reached over and tossed a large handful 
 of tobacco into the scoop. And on top of that 
 Vick mechanically dropped four ounces more. 
 The searching eyes of the old man detected the 
 gross over-weight as he came up. 
 
 "Boy, boy!" he boomed. "What in hell are 
 you trying to do? Ruin me?" 
 
 His voice, deep and bell-toned, carried even 
 to the girls who labeled and filled sacks at the 
 far end of the room. 
 
 Dill snickered. That did not help Vick. 
 To the lad it seemed that a thousand eyes were 
 upon him, and a thousand ears awaited his 
 answer. He had none. He did not under- 
 stand, he could not explain the overflowing 
 scoop of tobacco. 
 
 "Send him away!" old Dearborn roared. 
 "Get rid of him! You hear me, Jarrett? He's 
 trying to get a pound of shag into a four-ounce 
 sack!" 
 
 Jarrett, a cringing little man, walked over to 
 Vick. 
 
 " Go on up to Lynn," he ordered. 
 
 Vick climbed the stairs, wiping away with a 
 bare arm scalding tears of humiliation.
 
 Chapter 5 
 A GOOD RIDDANCE 
 
 March passed blusteringly to make way for 
 a balmy April, bringing more than a hint of 
 spring. The noon of Saturday, payday, ended 
 the factory week. Eating shops and barrooms 
 were crowded to the doors with chattering 
 darkies, good-natured as children with money 
 to spend. On Main Street they thronged in 
 the warm sun, even to the cobbled gutters, some 
 carrying soup in tomato cans, upon which a 
 pone of corn bread was skillfully balanced. 
 
 It was Timmons' invariable custom to stop in 
 several of the barrooms that swung their slatted 
 doors along his way and often, so alluring was 
 the pleasure he found, Saturday was yesterday 
 when he reached his home. At these times, fre- 
 quent of late, he had nothing or merely a pit- 
 tance, left of his wages. 
 
 Therefore Sarah was surprised today when 
 Jasper came in upon the heels of Vick, who 
 never tarried. His arrival, sober, brought his 
 
 46
 
 A Good Riddance 47 
 
 wife the cheerful hope that he had perhaps come 
 to a mending of his neglectful ways. Sarah 
 needed money, needed it urgently; for the past 
 few weeks Vick's wages had been the greater 
 portion of her income. 
 
 She immediately opened her brother's envelope 
 and sent him scurrying to a near-by store. She 
 thought to take especial care with dinner, with 
 a vaguely formed idea of reaching Timmons' 
 heart through his appetite. 
 
 Vick came back, panting in his haste. 
 
 "Heard the news, Sis?" he asked excitedly. 
 "We're goin' to war with Spain." 
 
 " I ain't heard nothin'. Who told you, Vick? " 
 
 " Saw it in the paper. A man had one down 
 at the store. It says it's rumored, but I heard 
 the man tell the clerk that it's a dead sure 
 thing." 
 
 " Oh, I hope not," said Sarah. 
 
 Timmons heard, but made no comment. He 
 ate his dinner in moody silence, with never a 
 word of appreciation for the extra dishes Sarah 
 had prepared, and his wife soon realized that the 
 mending of his ways was still remote and that 
 the money and effort spent on the meal had been 
 wasted. 
 
 His appetite appeased, the man wiped his
 
 48 Saturday Nights 
 
 mouth with the hairy back of a hand and left 
 the table. Sarah, too, arose. Not until her 
 husband had put on his hat did he reach for his 
 money. Then he thrust five dollars, not half 
 his pay, at her. 
 
 "Jasper, I've got to have more money than 
 that," she told him. 
 
 Timmons scowled, and reluctantly added a 
 dollar bill. 
 
 "More than that," Sarah repeated, holding 
 out her hand. 
 "More?" 
 
 ;< Yes, more," Sarah replied, brave in her 
 desperation. 
 
 "You can take this here or leave it, an* I 
 don't care a plugged nickel which you do!" 
 Timmons blustered. 
 
 "Listen, Jasper," the wife pleaded, "if we 
 was not so deep in debt I'd take the six dollars 
 an* make myself satisfied, but we're 'way behind, 
 man. The last two Sattidays you didn't give 
 me hardly anything. We been livin' most all 
 the time lately on what Vick's been puttin' 
 here." 
 
 "I don't care," Timmons sullenly answered. 
 "I took care of him long 'nough, didn't I? If 
 you want this here money you'd best take it.
 
 A Good Riddance 49 
 
 An' don't play. It's the last you're goin' to 
 get outer me." 
 
 " What d'you mean?" 
 
 " I mean I'm done. I'm sick an' tired of this 
 here hecklin'. If I give you as much as you 
 think you orter have, there wouldn't be none 
 for me." 
 
 "I'd tell you to go your way," Sarah delib- 
 erately answered, "an' joy go with you, if 'twas 
 just me. But what of your baby, Jasper Tim- 
 mons?" 
 
 "Blast the yowlin' kid!" the man growled. 
 "It " 
 
 He never completed the sentence. Sarah, her 
 hand hardened by unflagging toil, struck him in 
 the face with all her strength. At the blow Tim- 
 mons' face darkened with rage and he made a 
 savage lunge at her, but the girl tore away and 
 ran to the other side of the table, where she stood, 
 a picture of panting defiance. 
 
 Vick had not moved during the quarrel. Truth 
 to tell, he was afraid of Timmons. Now, at the 
 unexpected crisis, he slid unnoticed from his 
 chair and crouched, ready, at the next blow, to 
 defend his sister. 
 
 Inarticulate in his rage, Timmons rushed 
 around the table in pursuit of Sarah, but she
 
 50 Saturday Nights 
 
 somehow managed to evade him. Then the man 
 tried new tactics. With an oath he upended the 
 table, sending it crashing to the floor, and with 
 it he pinned his wife against the wall. 
 
 "Got you!" he snarled triumphantly. 
 
 "Run, Sis, run!" Vick shouted, and leaped 
 upon the man, beating at his inflamed face with 
 both fists. The boy's best efforts could not hurt 
 the big factory hand but they did delay his 
 attack on his wife. He swept Vick from him 
 with one blow that sent the boy tottering the 
 length of the room to fall against the wall. 
 
 In that moment Sarah had struggled free of 
 the table. She started to run from the room and 
 was at the door when her backward glance 
 showed her Vick was helpless. She screamed. 
 
 " Quit that hollerin' ! " Timmons hoarsely com- 
 manded. 
 
 In Yarder Street it was considered bad form to 
 invade the home of a neighbor, especially to in- 
 vestigate a feminine cry of distress. Yet at 
 times policemen so far forgot themselves as to 
 drift into the narrow thoroughfare and as Sarah 
 continued her piercing calls for help Timmons' 
 rage subsided into something of alarm. 
 
 "Stop that hellish yellin', I tell you!" 
 
 Uneasy, the man glanced into the passage and
 
 A Good Riddance 51 
 
 to his consternation Mrs. Cooper scuttled into 
 the room. 
 
 "What's wrong, Sary, my dear?" the neigh- 
 bor demanded. 
 
 "He's killed Vick!" Sarah wailed. 
 
 She was on her knees, the lad's head upon her 
 lap. A livid bruise was fast discoloring his 
 cheek and he was unconscious. Mrs. Cooper, 
 moving swiftly with her cane, placed a basin of 
 water and a towel on the floor. 
 
 "Bathe his face," she said to Sarah. 
 
 " An* you ! " the old woman continued, blazing 
 fiercely at Timmons. "Ain't you 'shamed of 
 yourself a big hulkin* brute hittin' a little 
 fellow like him? Your own wife's brother!" 
 
 She jabbed her cane close to his face and 
 Timmons stepped back. The man did not relish 
 the slashing quality of her tongue. 
 
 " We ain't got on together sence he come," he 
 surlily defended himself. 
 
 "An' you didn't get on before," Mrs. Cooper 
 retorted. "You can't blame your mean doin's 
 on that boy!" 
 
 "He's got to go or me!" 
 
 "Well, go then!" Sarah cried, looking up 
 from Vick, who now was conscious. "You said 
 you was now go I "
 
 52 Saturday Nights 
 
 "I ain't comin' back." 
 
 "Good riddance!" Sarah snapped angrily. 
 
 Timmons slouched out. Mrs. Cooper knelt 
 beside Sarah. 
 
 "Don't you worry, Sis," Vick whispered. 
 
 "The lad'll stick to you," Mrs. Cooper 
 assured her. 
 
 Sarah helped Vick to a chair and placed a 
 pillow for his aching head. Mrs. Cooper helped 
 her stand the table upon its tottering legs. The 
 old woman was surprisingly agile. 
 
 " There's somethin* T can say now," she told 
 Sarah. " I been wantin' to say it for a longish 
 time. But I couldn't think of havin' Jasper 
 Timmons in my house." 
 
 "In your house?" 
 
 "Yes. Thank God, my Jim had his life 
 insured an' with the money I bought the house 
 across the way. I'm goin' to get rid of the 
 boarders. I got 'nough to keep me an' I'm tired 
 of waitin' on folks I don't care 'specially 'bout." 
 
 Sarah listened in perplexity. 
 
 "Now here's what I been gettin' at. I got 
 two rooms upstairs over there an' I want you to 
 have 'em. An' I ain't goin' to charge you nary 
 a cent." 
 
 "Mrs. Cooper"
 
 A Good Riddance 53 
 
 The old woman cut short the protest. " Not 
 a word, now, dearie. For 'em what I cares for 
 I'll do anything I can. I care for you an' Vick 
 an' the baby. You can't stay on here." 
 
 " I'll pay for the rooms, Sis," Vick promised. 
 " I won't even buy a book on Sattidays." 
 
 The women talked and planned, with now and 
 then a word from the boy, and it was settled 
 that Sarah would accept the rooms, without 
 charge, until she could leave her baby for the 
 entire day. She would then go to work. Mrs. 
 Cooper gladly agreed to take care of the child 
 while Sarah was at the factory. 
 
 "It's a shame you got to go back to work, 
 Sary," she commented. " You thought you was 
 free of the fact'ry." 
 
 "I won't mind much, I reggon," Sarah 
 answered. " I'm tired of all this." Her gesture 
 took in the two squalid rooms. 
 
 "I ain't never had no faith in that Jasper 
 Timmons," Mrs. Cooper said flatly. She would 
 speak her thoughts. 
 
 "He won't bother me none, now," Sarah 
 replied, grave of face. After all, she had 
 
 dreamed. "He ain't comin' back." 
 
 * * * # # 
 
 The Wednesday of the week following Tim-
 
 54 Saturday Mghts 
 
 mons' departure Sarah moved her few posses- 
 sions across the street into Mrs. Cooper's house, 
 a mansion compared with the wretched quarters 
 she vacated. The new rooms were large and 
 airy. With Vick's cot curtained off in the 
 kitchen they would do very well. 
 
 When the boy climbed the stairs with the last 
 chair upon his aching back Sarah heaved a sigh 
 of deliverance. At last she felt that she was 
 free of Jasper Timmons. She had heard no 
 word from him, yet during every waking minute 
 she had dreaded that the man would return to 
 Yarder Street. Somehow, once clear of the old 
 place, she felt secure. 
 
 In her new home, for home she meant the 
 rooms to be, Sarah was seized with her old-time 
 desire to brighten things up and the rooms soon 
 took on an atmosphere of cheerfulness. Almost 
 content, she wished only for the Saturdays that 
 would bring her wages, that she might in some 
 measure at least, repay Mrs. Cooper's kindness. 
 
 That evening, when Vick came in from Dear- 
 born's, he found with his sister Mrs. Cooper and 
 a girl in cool white waist and trim skirt of 
 brown. She turned as Vick entered the room, 
 stared an instant, then smiled in friendly 
 recognition.
 
 A Good Riddance 55 
 
 " Don't you know me, Vick ? " she asked. 
 
 Sarah and Mrs. Cooper looked on in mild 
 wonder. 
 
 "Hesba! Hello, Hesba," Vick stammered. 
 
 The lad had not seen the girl since that day 
 of bitterness the last at school. 
 
 "An* you know my niece, Vick?" Mrs. Cooper 
 asked in surprise. "How'd you young ones 
 come to know each other, that's what I'd like to 
 know?" 
 
 "We went to school together, Aunt." 
 
 "Well, I declare, Sary," the old woman ejac- 
 ulated. "Don't that beat the beater?" 
 
 Vick found a seat. " What you been doin* all 
 this time, Hesba?" 
 
 "I've been keepin' house for mother, Vick," 
 the girl replied. " She's been an invalid." 
 
 " She's been kept too close, poor dear," Mrs. 
 Cooper said. 
 
 "Where d'you live?" Vick inquired, more 
 polite than curious. 
 
 "Right here in this house," Mrs. Cooper 
 promptly replied for her niece. "From now 
 on, right here. Hesba's mother's dead, Vick, 
 an' she's come to live with me." 
 
 "Oh," said Vick. 
 
 " She's my only kin, now, her mother was my
 
 56 Saturday Nights 
 
 sister," Mrs. Cooper elaborated. " She's got to 
 go to work later on, poor dear." 
 
 " I don't mind," Hesba hastened to say. 
 
 " It's a shame," the old woman sighed. :< You 
 ought not to have to work, Hesba. I wish I 
 was able to take keer of you, but I ain't, an' 
 that's all that's to that. Ain't no use m wastin' 
 time regrettin', 1 say." 
 
 " Seems to me, Mrs. Cooper," Sarah laugh- 
 ingly commented, "that you're the only one 
 who's doin' any regrettin'. Hesba don't seem 
 to be worryin' none." 
 
 "I'm not," Hesba declared. 
 
 "Where're you goin' to work at?" Vick was 
 interested. 
 
 "At Winter's I reggon," Mrs. Cooper 
 answered for the girl. " That's what we come up 
 
 for, to talk to Sary 'bout it." 
 
 * ( * * * * 
 
 Vick, craving the companionship of his kind, 
 began to go out at night. That was his right. 
 He was a worker. Whatever she thought, the 
 sister could not protest. She was sensible 
 enough to realize that the lad, after being kept 
 indoors all day, needed recreation. 
 
 For some time Shad had been threatening 
 to come up on Yarder Street and carry Vick,
 
 A Good Riddance 57 
 
 whether he would or no, down to his "corner" 
 and introduce him to his particular cronies. 
 Their gathering place was the flickering spot of 
 yellow light beneath a gas-lamp beside a lumber 
 yard near the wharves. 
 
 Vick, more than a little doubtful, finally con- 
 sented to make the journey, a dozen blocks or 
 so from home. He found the company rough 
 of language, but congenial enough, and the next 
 night saw him at the corner again. His native 
 timidity in the midst of strangers was soon con- 
 quered by the clannish comradery of the youth- 
 ful gangsters. In most of them there was no 
 vindictive meanness. They had their code and 
 lived it. 
 
 So Vick came to run with the lumber yard 
 gang; to be one of them, and not the least 
 important. He and Shad became closer chums. 
 
 As Vick won the confidence of his fellows he 
 grew as rudely independent, as grimy and as 
 uncombed as the toughest of them. Except in 
 one thing; he would not talk as the other boys 
 talked of or to a girl. Somehow he had inher- 
 ited an instinctive respect for womanhood. 
 
 The craving for adventure within the law 
 or without lured him on. Although he no 
 longer read his books, his imagination was as
 
 58 Saturday Nights 
 
 vivid as ever. When a night-raiding party was 
 organized to invade the pigeon cotes of some 
 unpopular citizen, Vick was always a member. 
 But his companions could scarcely have under- 
 stood the spirit in which he entered the ventures. 
 He, like the knights of old, stole upon some 
 embattled castle to rescue from the clutches of 
 an evil chieftain a beautiful maiden in distress. 
 On these raids Vick, feverish in his eagerness, 
 was always to the fore, and his daring, his readi- 
 ness to assume risks, quickly placed him among 
 the leaders of the gang. 
 
 These lads were not inherently dishonest. 
 The year round, monotonous day after day, they 
 were penned within factory walls, and counted 
 themselves fortunate, indeed, to be within peep- 
 ing-out distance of a window. They were 
 keenly alive. There had to be some outlet for 
 their youthful vitality. 
 
 When Vick arrived at the corner one evening 
 one of the less venturesome lads approached 
 him. 
 
 "Tonight's choir night at the church, Vick, 
 an' Preacher Minor's hired me to pump the 
 organ. Wanter make a dime?" 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "He told me to get 'nother boy to spell me.
 
 A Good Riddance 59 
 
 A dime for me an* a dime for him. Wanter 
 go?" 
 
 "I do that," Vick replied. A dime for an 
 hour of his time, more of play than work, 
 appealed to him. 
 
 "What's all that, Herb?" It was Shad, who 
 had just come up, who asked the question. 
 
 "Vick's goin' to help me pump the organ," 
 Herb explained. 
 
 "We're goin' after Sanders' pigeons," Shad 
 carelessly replied. "We owe him somethin' an* 
 we ain't had no fun for days. Vick's goin' with 
 me." 
 
 The zest of the hazard made Vick's blood 
 leap. He saw himself stealing with the silence 
 of a ghost across the yard of old man Sanders' 
 place toward the pigeons' home in the barn. 
 
 "I reggon I can get somebody else," Herb 
 reluctantly said. 
 
 "I reggon you'd better," Vick told him. 
 "He's countin' on me, Shad is." 
 
 The lad saw no wrong in his choice. On one 
 hand were safety and the certainty of ten cents, 
 on the other hand danger and the uncertainty of 
 reward. In his keenness for excitement Vick 
 made his choice with a conscience untroubled.
 
 Chapter 6 
 LURE OF THE RIVER 
 
 Hot nights came, bringing with them the call 
 of the cool river. And Vick learned, to his 
 boyish disgust, that he was the only one of the 
 gang who could not swim. His reputation, won 
 by courageous exploits, tottered; he lost caste. 
 One of the smaller boys twisted a quid in his 
 cheek, spat, and boastfully swore that he could 
 swim before he was able to walk. Vick doubted 
 the statement but envied the little braggart. 
 However, Shad promised that the defect in his 
 pal's education should be remedied at once. 
 
 Under the planking of a wharf, where the 
 river mud was black and sticky, the boys shed 
 their clothes, hanging their scanty garments 
 upon the cross beams overhead. At this place 
 the greater portion of the gang had learned to 
 swim. 
 
 Five yards out in deep water was a short, 
 uneven row of piles, all that remained of an old 
 wharf. Their tops, slippery with green slime, 
 
 eo
 
 Lure of the River 61 
 
 rose a foot and a half above the unrippled 
 surface. 
 
 With a world of confidence in the ability of 
 his pal, Vick, as instructed, grasped Shad's 
 shoulders and lay motionless while Shad towed 
 him out to the piles, to which he clung preca- 
 riously. 
 
 "Here's how I learned," Shad said. "I just 
 paddled an* kicked 'longside these here piles. 
 'Course, I couldn't stay up long at first hut 
 when I felt myself goin' under I reached up an' 
 grabbed hold of a pile." 
 
 "S'pose you missed your grab?" Vick 
 thought that a logical question. 
 
 " I never did," Shad said. 
 
 "But S'pose you had?" Vick insisted. 
 
 "Aw, somebody would have pulled me out." 
 
 He showed Vick the simple movements of 
 "dog-paddle," which custom decreed that every 
 lad of Burleyton must master before essaying 
 the more difficult strokes. 
 
 "Now, try it," Shad commanded. "An* 
 'member one thing all the time. If you start 
 to sink don't get skeered. I'm here to pull you 
 out. All you need is to think you're all right." 
 
 Vick mortally hated to leave his anchorage. 
 But he did, and stayed upon the water at least
 
 62 Saturday Mghts 
 
 two seconds before he reached for and hugged 
 the friendly pile. 
 
 "That's learnin'," Shad applauded, hovering 
 close. "You're makin' it all right, Vick. Try 
 again ! " 
 
 Vick tried once more and did better. In his 
 first attempts he made no perceptible headway 
 but he managed to keep his head above water. 
 Thus he gained the desirable confidence. 
 
 The moonlight that beautified the ugly stream 
 gave the boys sufficient light to see each other. 
 Shad was indolently disporting within a few 
 strokes of Vick when one of the gang dived 
 beneath him and in play dragged him under. 
 In the excitement of the underwater tussle Vick 
 was momentarily forgotten and when Shad 
 came up, after disposing of his adversary, his 
 pal was not in sight. A few bubbles rising to 
 the surface told what had happened to Vick. 
 
 With one quick gulp Shad shot down head- 
 foremost, and slid blindly into the arms of the 
 drowning boy, who clung to him in frantic 
 terror. Shad freed himself for a moment but 
 Vick grappled with him again and the two 
 boys sank. 
 
 Shad kept his Head. Struggling until one 
 arm was free he shoved his fist under Vick's
 
 Lure of the River 63 
 
 chin and jabbed him with all his strength. 
 Again and again he struck, and at last broke 
 the choking clasp. In frantic haste he kicked 
 back to the surface. 
 
 Vick gave up all hope when Shad left him. 
 Yet he struggled spasmodically, futilely churn- 
 ing with his legs as if he rode a bicycle. No 
 incident of his life came to mock him or to con- 
 sole him; his thoughts were of Sarah. What 
 would she say when they told her? A feeling 
 of indescribable pity for the sister swept over 
 him. He could see her sobbing. . . . 
 
 Above, Shad filled his lungs with one long 
 breath. He shouted the gang signal for help 
 and as they swarmed toward him, he dove under 
 once more. Suspecting what had happened, 
 several of the boys followed. 
 
 It was Shad who found Vick. This time the 
 lad was too far gone to struggle and his pal 
 brought him up and with the crowding help of 
 others swam ashore with the unconscious boy, 
 and dragged him from the water. 
 
 Vick revived quickly and found himself 
 under the wharf. He was as weak as a baby 
 but the realization that he was alive filled him 
 with a satisfying happiness. It was good to be 
 alive! He felt that he could lie there forever,
 
 64 Saturday Nights 
 
 inches deep in the mud, and never complain of 
 anything. 
 
 "How come you to go under, Vick?" Shad 
 asked. 
 
 "I missed my grab." 
 
 The boys circled closer, their alarm giving 
 place to a curious interest in the boy who had 
 almost perished. 
 
 "Thought you said you'd be watchin' me?" 
 Vick complained after a time. Reproach lent 
 strength to his voice. "Thought you said you 
 wouldn't let me sink?" 
 
 " WeU, I pulled you out, didn't I?" Shad's 
 manner was vehement, so aggressive was his 
 endeavor to hide the shame of his negligence. 
 
 "They say you did," Vick grudgingly con- 
 ceded. And then he added, in boyish bombast, 
 to impress upon all who listened that his nerve 
 was yet unbroken "You was mighty damn 
 slow 'bout it. I was two inches lower'n hell 
 
 that time!" 
 
 ***** 
 
 One summer morning found Vick working in 
 the press room at Dearborn's. He had been 
 sent down by Lynn, with Shad and Dill, and 
 was being initiated into the art of sticking tags 
 into the unfinished plugs of chewing tobacco,
 
 Lure of the River 65 
 
 and piling them in stacks, ready for the negroes 
 at the shapers. From the lump room the 
 tobacco came down layer upon layer in trucks, 
 box-like affairs more than waist-high, to the 
 taggers. 
 
 Dill, after they had been working a while, dis- 
 covered in his genius for mischief a new way to 
 torment Vick. The first truck was more than 
 half empty and the lad was compelled to stand 
 on his toes and lean far over its high side to 
 secure a supply of lumps for his table. 
 
 While thus helpless Dill sneaked behind him 
 and placed several of the large tags, tin prongs 
 up, under Vick's raised heels. His arms full, 
 Vick came down with his entire weight on the 
 miniature spikes and with a whoop of aston- 
 ished pain he threw the tobacco into the air. 
 His action was ludicrous and the boys laughed 
 uproariously. Even Shad grinned. 
 
 Vick was not without a sense of humor. If 
 any of the other taggers had played the trick he 
 would have laughed with them. But Dill! He 
 plucked the tags from his heels and in his resent- 
 ment resolved that someone would pay for his 
 discomfiture. 
 
 The chance soon came. Only the last layer 
 of tobacco remained in the truck and Dill stood
 
 66 Saturday Nights 
 
 almost upon his head to reach it. He was not 
 to be caught with a repetition of his own trick 
 but Vick was of no mind to bother with tags. 
 He darted across and, seizing Dill's legs, tossed 
 him over into the truck. Exultant, he stood and 
 awaited the outburst of mirth that was due. 
 
 But a sudden silence, then the hum of indus- 
 try filled the room. Vick, glancing toward the 
 enclosed stairway that led to the lump room, 
 understood immediately. At the foot of the 
 stairs stood the master of Dearborn's! 
 
 The lad was spellbound. Dill found his feet 
 and stood erect in the truck, an ugly scowl con- 
 torting his features. His mouth was twisted for 
 a flow of invective when he, too, saw the big 
 boss. A flash of triumph swept the scowl away, 
 to be instantly replaced by an expression of 
 meek injury. 
 
 Old Dearborn strode majestically down the 
 room. Vick would have liked to flee from the 
 factory but his legs refused to obey the call of 
 his brain. But, to the boy's surprise and delight, 
 there came no explosion of wrath. The old gen- 
 tleman passed him by, his gaze straight ahead, 
 as if he saw nothing. Yet Vick would have 
 sworn there was a glint of laughter in the 
 austere eyes.
 
 Lure of the River 67 
 
 With the familiar sight of the master's proud 
 back work ceased and the jabber of a score of 
 tongues began. The big boss had ignored an 
 opportunity to show his power ; he had, for some 
 unexplainable reason, allowed the strict disci- 
 pline of Dearborn's to relax. Here was material 
 for gossip. 
 
 Dill's features lengthened laughably in his 
 disappointment. He climbed from the truck 
 and walked a few steps, limping much too 
 obviously. Vick, fully recovered from his fright, 
 felt quite proud of himself. 
 
 "I'll fix you you pet!" Dill threatened. 
 
 " Try it an' see what you get," Vick retorted, 
 and returned to his place beside Shad. 
 
 "Didn't old Dearborn see me do it?" he 
 whispered. 
 
 "Sure, he seen it all," Shad answered, not 
 fully recovered from his surprise. "I seen him 
 when he seen it. I thought you was a goner, 
 Vick." 
 
 The' rush job of tagging finished, the lads 
 from the third floor were sent that afternoon to 
 the cut-plug department, also on the first floor. 
 There it was Dill's duty to keep a plentiful 
 supply of tobacco upon the bench, from which 
 Shad fed it into the jaws of the machine. To
 
 68 Saturday Nights 
 
 Vick was assigned the task of catching the 
 wafer-like slices and packing them in shallow 
 trays. 
 
 At Dearborn's, this task was rather danger- 
 ous. A steady nerve was required to pull the 
 cuts free from the thumping blade and prevent 
 the clogging of the outlet. Vick felt that his 
 fingers were in constant jeopardy as they 
 were. The job was distinctly not to his liking, 
 yet he made no complaint. There was the Sat- 
 urday envelope to take in consideration. 
 
 Vick could not have sworn that Dill jogged 
 his elbow when he passed, but he was passing 
 as Vick's third finger slipped under the ponder- 
 ous knife. So swift and clean was the amputa- 
 tion that Vick did not feel, he saw it. He lifted 
 his hand in trembling horror and stared, his face 
 suddenly white, at the red stump of that short- 
 ened finger. The rounded end was gone. 
 
 A negro stopped the clattering machine. 
 
 "Mistuh Updike!" he shouted. "Run for 
 Mistuh Updike!" 
 
 Vick's finger began to ache, throbbing a mes- 
 sage of pain up into his arm, and the boy 
 squeezed it, helplessly trying to choke the flow 
 of blood. 
 
 The gathering crowd was unceremoniously
 
 Lure of the River 69 
 
 shouldered aside and "Dad" Updike, press 
 room boss and surgeon extraordinary, stood 
 before Vick. 
 
 "Lemme see, boy," he commanded, and 
 grasped with firm fingers the sticky little hand. 
 Dad was old, and lanky, with knobs for knees 
 and elbows and cheek-bones that were much too 
 prominent for his narrow face, but the quiet 
 humor of his clear blue eyes, beneath their over- 
 hanging bushy-white brows, did much to com- 
 pensate for his ugliness. 
 
 He turned to the curious ones. "You men 
 get back to your work. I'll 'tend to the lad." 
 
 Vick walked with Updike into the factory 
 yard where the boy found the fresh air welcome. 
 He wiped the sweat from his forehead. Behind 
 them Dad espied a furtive Shad. 
 
 "What d'you want?" he called. 
 
 " Nothin'," Shad muttered. " I'm with Vick." 
 
 " He's my pal," Vick explained. 
 
 "All right. We'll let him stay." 
 
 With a piece of twine from a capacious pocket 
 the foreman, with surprising deftness, wound 
 the finger tightly and stopped the pulsing flow. 
 
 "You stay here," he said to Shad, "while I 
 get some stuff outer the med'cine box." 
 
 Dad came back quickly, his long legs stretch-
 
 70 Saturday Nights 
 
 ing. "Does it hurt?" he cheerily inquired. 
 
 " Some," Vick admitted. " It's got me kinder 
 sick." 
 
 "It's the blood that turns your stummick," 
 Dad explained. 
 
 He washed and treated the finger and skill- 
 fully bandaged it. Then he sent Shad, proud 
 to be of service, scurrying for an old glove. 
 From that he cut a finger and drew it over the 
 wounded finger, securing it with twine to the 
 boy's slim wrist. Updike, in his forty years at 
 Dearborn's, had seen more than his share of 
 minor injuries. 
 
 The reaction soon came. Vick squirmed in 
 discomfort, tears of wretchedness in his eyes. 
 
 " I'm sick," he whispered. 
 
 " Let it come," Dad urged. " More room out 
 than in." 
 
 Shad hovered near, just a little less white 
 than his chum. The illness passed, leaving Vick 
 spiritless. 
 
 Into the yard old Dearborn trotted, trying to 
 hurry and still retain his dignity. He was the 
 very devil, Vick thought, for appearing at the 
 wrong time. 
 
 "What? What?" the old gentleman roared. 
 
 "The lad caught his finger in the cut-plug
 
 Lure of the River 71 
 
 machine," Updike answered, casually helping 
 himself to a fresh chew. 
 
 "Boy bo-oy! Didn't you have no more 
 sense than to stick your finger into that 
 machine?" 
 
 Vick thought of the nearness of Dill at the 
 moment of the accident, and was tempted to 
 accuse him, but thought better of it. 
 
 "No, sir yes, sir no, sir," he stuttered, 
 losing the sense of the roaring question. 
 
 Old Dearborn glared at " Dad " Updike. " Is 
 he hurt seriously?" 
 
 "A end off his finger," Dad laconically 
 answered. 
 
 " Send him home, then, send him home! Why 
 don't you send him home, Updike?" 
 
 " I'm goin' to when he feels well 'nough." 
 
 "Such fool carelessness!" the old man 
 stormed. "It's a wonder he didn't cut his head 
 off!" 
 
 " The boy'll be out some time, Mr. Dearborn," 
 Dad suggested, carefully selecting his words. 
 When his press room foreman mistered him 
 Dearborn usually took notice. 
 
 "See that he gets full time next Saturday," 
 he ordered. 
 
 "An' the next Sattiday after that, sir? The
 
 72 Saturday Nights 
 
 lad won't be able to work for some time, I'm 
 afraid." 
 
 "The next Saturday, too!" Dearborn 
 snapped. 
 
 He stalked to the factory door, then suddenly 
 turned in his tracks. "Boy, you stay out till 
 that finger gets entirely well!" he roared. 
 
 Dad Updike chuckled. 
 
 Shad accompanied Vick to the house in 
 Yarder Street, then returned to his work at the 
 factory. Vick raced excitedly up the stairs and 
 burst in upon Sarah in the kitchen. 
 
 " Look, Sis ! " he called, holding high his hand 
 with fingers spread. " I cut off my finger ! " 
 
 The glove finger was black and Sarah's 
 startled glance glimpsed only three of the boy's 
 fingers and the thumb. Her face set in horror, 
 she screamed. 
 
 Vick hurried over to her and with rapid words 
 explained the real extent of the injury. The 
 two were laughing, Sarah in weak relief, when 
 Hesba ran into the room. 
 
 "Mrs. Timmons! Vick! What's the mat- 
 ter?" she breathlessly inquired. 
 
 The lad, embarrassed, displayed the wounded 
 hand. 
 
 "It liked to skeered me outer my senses,"
 
 Lure of the River 73 
 
 Sarah said. "I thought his whole finger was 
 cut off." 
 
 "Oh, Vick, I'm so sorry," Hesba exclaimed, 
 her pity vanquishing her shyness. "It must 
 hurt you awful!" 
 
 "Aw, not so much," Vick replied, squirming 
 at the girl's sympathy. "It ain't much worse'n 
 a stone-bruise." 
 
 Hesba's native diffidence returned. "I'm 
 glad it ain't so bad," she said. "Anything you 
 want me to do, Mrs. Timmons?" 
 
 "I reggon not," Sarah answered. "They 
 fixed it up at the factory." 
 
 "I hope it'll get well real quick," the girl 
 said. "I'm going down to Aunt, now. She'll 
 want to know about it." 
 
 " She's a good little thing," Sarah remarked, 
 after Hesba had left them. 
 
 "Uh-huh," Vick disinterestedly agreed. 
 
 "Old Dearborn ain't so bad," the lad soberly 
 commented later. "He cussed me out for my 
 carelessness but he told me to stay 'way from 
 the fact'ry till my finger was good an' well. 
 An' I'm gettin' paid all the time." 
 
 "You are?" The news drove great disquiet 
 from Sarah's mind. The loss of Vi^k's wages 
 could have meant nothing less than disaster.
 
 74 Saturday Nights 
 
 "I are," said Vick. 
 
 "But your poor finger!" 
 
 Vick refused to regard the accident as a 
 calamity. 
 
 "Just think, Sis," he pointed out, "this gives 
 me a holiday. I can take I don't know how 
 many days. An' draw full pay on Sattidays." 
 
 " They don't gen'rally do that in the fact 'ries," 
 Sarah commented. 
 
 " I know it. Workin' at Dearborn's ain't so 
 bad," Vick answered, then gravely added: 
 "Bein' as you got to work."
 
 Chapter 7 
 VICE WINS PROMOTION 
 
 Vick enjoyed to the limit his enforced vaca- 
 tion. Most of his daylight hours were spent 
 in idleness or finding new thrills in the adven- 
 tures of Sir Nigel. But the shadows of night 
 found him always on the "corner," in the more 
 modern, if less heroic, companionship of Shad 
 and the gang. 
 
 Two days after the accident, Saturday, he 
 sauntered down to Dearborn's and was handed 
 his wages. For the first time he opened his 
 envelope, to allay the fear that he had, in spite 
 of old Dearborn's instructions, been docked for 
 the lost time. To his delight he found himself 
 in possession of one dollar and eighty cents. 
 
 Dad Updike must have been watching for 
 Vick. He tapped him upon his shoulder. 
 
 "How's the finger?" 
 
 "'Most well, now." 
 
 "What d'you know 'bout it?" Dad asked 
 
 76
 
 76 Saturday Nights 
 
 scornfully. "I'm the doc, ain't I? You'll have 
 to stay home another week, anyhow." 
 
 "I'd like to," Vick admitted, "but I could 
 brush leaves by holdin' my finger stuck out, 
 Mr. Updike. Do you reckon it's, it's- 
 
 "'Tain't a question of it's, it's, Vick," Dad 
 said, chuckling. "It's a question of gettin' a 
 boy a holiday. You heard what the old man 
 said out there in the yard, didn't you?" 
 
 "I cert'ny did." 
 
 Dad laughed at the boy's grimace. 
 
 "He said for you to stay 'way till the finger 
 was entirely well." The boss tapped vigorously 
 the sore end of the ringer and Vick jumped. 
 " There! You can see it ain't entirely well yet." 
 
 "I reggon 'tain't exactly well, sir." 
 
 "That's just how I figgered it," Dad said 
 gravely. "Run on home, now, an' don't you 
 lemme catch you in here before next pay day. 
 You hear me, boy?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Vick. 
 
 The next Saturday at noon Vick found 
 Updike in his office,, a cubby-hole stuck away 
 in a corner near the factory entrance. The boss 
 beckoned the lad to the light of a window and 
 examined the finger with care. 
 
 "A little sore yet," he commented. "But I
 
 Vick Wins Promotion 77 
 
 reggon you'll be able to toddle in Monday 
 
 morninY 
 
 "I can work all right, now, Mr. Updike," 
 Vick said, "just so I'm careful an' don't knock 
 my finger when I'm brushin'." 
 
 " You ain't goin' to brush no more, Vick." 
 
 "I ain't?" 
 
 "Nope you're promoted. You're goin' to 
 work under me hereafter." 
 
 "I'd like mightily to work for you, sir. 
 What'll be my job?" 
 
 "I'm goin' to learn you the bus'ness, maybe. 
 If I see you got a head for it I don't know but 
 what I'll make you my assistant some of these 
 days. I'll need one I'm gettin' old." 
 
 The announcement took Vick's breath away. 
 Through the open door he stared down the 
 floor, deserted now by the workers, past rows 
 of shapers to the black line of iron pots, all 
 bulging of waist, with signal ropes connecting 
 with the gong over the hydraulic pump at the 
 far rear. Scarcely dry of scalding water, stacks 
 of greaseless tins stood spick and span, clean for 
 Sunday. Nearer, wooden caddies, empty and 
 unbranded, were pyramided handy to the open 
 screws. 
 
 "An' there's somethin' else," Dad went on.
 
 78 Saturday Nights 
 
 "There's more money in the new job. How 
 does two an' a half a week strike you?" 
 
 " Right where I live ! " said Vick emphatically. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Vick's eighteenth birthday was a month or two 
 behind him when one morning in early spring 
 Eva Warm, starting to work at Dearborn's, 
 walked past him at the factory door. It was 
 a case of surrender at sight with Vick. Soon 
 the time came when he was not really happy 
 unless he was where he could watch the girl and 
 catch a smile. 
 
 For some time Vick had been Dad Updike's 
 assistant in the press room. His pay had been 
 raised several times and the lad felt that he was 
 getting ahead. In Dad's hands he was beginning 
 to understand the intricacies of tobacco in the 
 manufacturing. His years at the factory had 
 given him a living, besides winning for him a 
 valued friend and wise counselor. Updike 
 treated the lad with the consideration a father 
 might have shown a son and Vick had become 
 very fond of the old man. 
 
 Vick had grown into a tall, slender young 
 fellow, possessing his share of masculine attract- 
 iveness. Unlike the majority of his stolid- 
 featured acquaintances his face was alive with
 
 Vick Wins Promotion 79 
 
 intelligence. His hair, as straight as his back, 
 had darkened considerably and was brushed 
 sternly back from a rather high forehead. His 
 eyes were a sober gray, with a likable trick of 
 twinkling with mirth and an abundance of fire 
 in their depth. His nose was large, sensitive 
 and fuU-rimmed at the nostrils. 
 
 The home in Yarder Street was all that the 
 Joyces might expect. Through the sustained 
 efforts of brother and sister the necessities of 
 a comfortable existence were acquirable. For a 
 long time, now, Sarah had worked at Winter's, 
 the mammoth cigarette factory of Burleyton. 
 
 Hesba Wyatt, too, worked at Winter's. 
 Hesba was not a showy girl in looks or manner 
 not calculated to enslave at first sight. Vick 
 saw much of her and treated her with the 
 privileged unconcern of a thoughtless brother. 
 
 Not a word had Sarah received from Jasper 
 Timmons. Vick had brought from the factory 
 a rumor that Timmons had been killed in the 
 war. Sarah was not flinty of heart but she 
 knew she would not weep if the report were 
 verified. The genial Lynn, now the master of 
 stemmers at Dearborn's, had begun to call, at 
 first infrequently, then regularly, and the girl 
 did not shun the proffered friendship.
 
 80 Saturday Nights 
 
 Lynn made much of Sarah's baby girl, an 
 attractive, pink cheeked little one with chubby 
 legs and yellow hair. The wisdom of Lynn's 
 methods was apparent; there was no straighter 
 path to Sarah's heart. The child was really 
 lovable, looking upon Mrs. Cooper as a second 
 mother, and the old woman was amazingly 
 content in the arrangement whereby her hours 
 were filled with the care of little Katie during 
 the necessary absences of Sarah. 
 
 Vick and Shad were as inseparable as ever. 
 Shad was stockier than his pal and heavier. 
 His hair was as sandy of color, and as unruly, 
 as on the dav when Vick first saw him. He had 
 
 tf 
 
 become Lynn's assistant at Dearborn's. 
 
 Led by several of the more unrestrained lads 
 the lumber yard gang had degenerated into 
 criminal viciousness. Two of the boys had been 
 caught in one of their raids, and sentences to the 
 reform school had been the result. 
 
 The corner had been " reported " was under 
 the surveillance of the police and the gang 
 had received orders not to congregate there. In 
 spite of the warnings they stubbornly insisted 
 upon gathering at their old meeting place. 
 They held the police in profane scorn, yet were 
 ever alert for the sign of a blue-coat. When
 
 Vick Wins Promotion 81 
 
 one came within their view they scampered into 
 the night and from the safety of the shadows 
 yelled their taunts. And it was a matter of 
 gang-pride to reassemble at the corner the 
 moment the patrolman had passed. 
 
 From sheer force of habit Vick and Shad 
 generally met upon the corner, but the chums, 
 steadied a bit on the border of manhood, had 
 for some time avoided participation in the night 
 raids which had developed from mischievous 
 adventure into organized thievery. 
 
 Within the flickering radius of the gaslight 
 the gang was gathered, a score of youths, seldom 
 still and never silent, weaving to and fro among 
 themselves like hiving bees. Most of them were 
 ragged but unconcerned. The vicinity echoed 
 with their shouts and laughter, freely inter- 
 spersed with the oaths of their elders. Vick and 
 Shad were seated on the tufty grass that grew 
 alongside the lumber yard, their backs to the 
 fence. 
 
 From the mouth of a neighboring alley a 
 policeman lumbered; from across and up and 
 down the street others ran, all converging upon 
 the corner. The gang was surrounded. At the 
 first whoop of warning the chums swung with 
 the agility of acrobats to the top of the fence
 
 82 Saturday Nights 
 
 and dropped over. The paths of the yard, with 
 its innumerable stacks of lumber, wound this 
 way and that in intricate fashion, to and from 
 the wagon road, but the place was as familiar 
 as their homes to the fleeing boys. 
 
 Recklessly they plunged through the dark- 
 ness to the farther side, where a loose-hanging 
 plank had been used as an egress in similar 
 crises. With muttered words of rebef they 
 passed through to another street and into the 
 hands of a waiting officer. 
 
 "Aw, now," he said, tightening his hold 
 upon their arms, "who have we here?" 
 
 Vick recognized the drawling voice of Dugg, 
 the patrolman on that beat. He and Shad made 
 BO reply and the officer turned them so he might 
 scan their faces. 
 
 "Joyce an' Fish, hey?" he chuckled. "Where 
 was you goin', now?" 
 
 'You know," Vick answered sullenly, seeing 
 Kttle reason for the pleasantry. 
 
 Shad stood glum and silent. 
 
 Dugg searched carefully the length of the 
 street, to be certain no brother officer* was in 
 sight. 
 
 "I'm goin' to let you go," he remarked. 
 "You ain't the ones, I'm thinkin', the Cap is
 
 Vick Wins Promotion 83 
 
 after. If I turn you loose where're you goin' ? " 
 
 " Away from here ! " Vick flashed. 
 
 Dugg released them. " Run 'long, then. But 
 if I catch you 'round these here diggin's again 
 I'm goin' to lock you up." 
 
 "We ain't comin' back," Vick promised as 
 they started off. 
 
 "Not to-night, Anyhow," Shad added 
 impudently. 
 
 A block and a half they hurried and came 
 out on Main Street. There they halted in 
 indecision. 
 
 "Where we goin', Vick?" 
 
 "Aw, hell," Vick said bitterly, "we ain't 
 got nowheres to go. We have to work all day 
 an' the cops chase us at night. We'd just as 
 well be in jail or somethin'." 
 
 "I know where we can go," Shad retorted. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Cross there" pointing. 
 
 "Cross there" was a barroom, its door and 
 windows casting into the night a soft glow of 
 invitation. 
 
 "Aw, I ain't never drank nothin'," Vick 
 objected. 
 
 " 'Tain't goin' to hurt you. You got to start 
 sometime, ain't you?"
 
 84 Saturday Nights 
 
 "I reggon so," Vick agreed doubtfully. 
 
 "Come on, then. I been in there before an' 
 I got ? nough for two-three drinks. What's 
 mine's yours, you know that." 
 
 Shad swaggered through the swinging doors 
 and Vick followed, much less confidently. At 
 the bar Shad ordered two glasses of beer and 
 ostentatiously flipped a coin upon the counter. 
 Vick forced the drink down. Without con- 
 sultation Shad then called for whisky for two. 
 Vick demurred. 
 
 " Shad," he whispered, " that stufFll make 
 me drunk." 
 
 "What d'you care?" Shad demanded. "Just's 
 well be drunk as the way you are." 
 
 With amazed envy Vick watched his pal as 
 he swallowed the liquor without the blinking 
 of an eye. His own portion brought tears 
 to Vick's eyes, almost strangling him, and he 
 grabbed for the chaser of water as if it were an 
 antidote for poison. A little later, his head 
 astonishingly light, his cares less than nothing, 
 he strutted out at the heels of Shad. 
 
 When the lads parted Vick walked up Yarder 
 Street on legs which wabbled fearfully. With 
 as little noise as possible he stole up to the 
 kitchen, trying not to arouse Sarah. The room
 
 Vick Wins Promotion 85 
 
 was in darkness. Somehow, swaying on the 
 threshold, he lost his balance and lurched in, 
 pitching headlong with a startling crash. 
 
 He landed under the kitchen table and, 
 stupidly unaware of his position, tried to regain 
 his feet. And as often as he came up his head 
 jammed against the table, knocking him back 
 again. The voice of his sister, vibrant with 
 alarm, beat past the roar in his eardrums. 
 
 " Vick ! What's the matter ? " 
 
 Vick was determined to stand erect and he 
 stubbornly fought the table. Sarah hurried into 
 the room, the lamp in her hand throwing a 
 yellow gleam on her face, strained with fright. 
 
 "Vick!" she appealed again. 
 
 She saw him, then. She set the lamp on the 
 floor and helped the boy to his feet. 
 
 "Vick, you're drunk!" Sarah whispered, her 
 voice heavy with horror. 
 
 She got him upon a chair and bathed his fore- 
 head, and Vick steadfastly refused to meet her 
 sorrowing eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Cooper hobbled into the room. " I heard 
 you call," she said simply, instantly compre- 
 hending the situation. 
 
 "Can't I help can't I come in?" Hesba's 
 voice, anxious, sounded from the hall outside.
 
 86 Saturday Nights 
 
 "Don't, don't let her," Vick whispered. 
 
 Mrs. Cooper hobbled to the door. "Ain't no 
 use for you to stay up, Hesba. Vick's sick, but 
 not bad, I'm thinkin'. Get back to bed, now, 
 an' I'll be down in a while." 
 
 Hesba was not to be denied. Disregarding 
 her aunt, she stepped resolutely into the room 
 and across to the lad. 
 
 "Vick's sick," Sarah said. 
 
 The lad felt the young girl's searching look 
 and made himself meet her gaze. In her steady 
 eyes he read her scorn and contempt and it 
 stirred him to stupid anger. She had no right 
 to scorn him; she had had no right to enter. 
 He choked back a guttural oath of defiance. 
 
 "Yes Vick's sick," said Hesba, disdain- 
 fully. "And the sickness is of his own making. 
 You were right, Aunt, I can't help." 
 
 Coolly she walked from the kitchen but in 
 the darkness outside she buried her face in her 
 hands and stifled a sob. 
 
 "But I could help if he'd let me," she 
 whispered.
 
 On those spring nights the lads on the lumber 
 yard corner saw little of Vick and Shad. The 
 two no longer found amusement in the youthful 
 escapades of the gang and drifted from its 
 influence, as did others of the older lads. The 
 chums became regular patrons of Gallopin' 
 Dick's saloon. 
 
 Dick Jessup was widely known among the 
 drinking population of Tobacco Flats as a man 
 who could, and would, whip twice his weight 
 in drunken rowdies. He tried to run an orderly 
 place and belligerently advertised the fact that 
 he was ruler there. If some quarrelsome patron 
 started a fight the barkeeper invariably finished 
 it, and the offender usually found himself 
 sprawling in the gutter of Yarder Street, 
 wondering how he got there. 
 
 Gallopin' was sardonic of countenance, harsh 
 of speech, wiry of body, and a human cyclone 
 in a free-for-all mix-up. With a right leg all 
 
 87
 
 88 Saturday Nights 
 
 of three inches shorter than the left, his hobbling 
 stride gave him the unusual nickname to which 
 he answered. 
 
 His saloon occupied the ground floor of a 
 dingy, yellow-brick building on a corner where 
 Yarder Street crossed Main. It stood several 
 blocks down from Dearborn's, and to the minds 
 of Vick and Shad it was a convivial rendezvous. 
 
 One Saturday afternoon the chums hurried 
 home as usual, ate dinner, washed and dressed, 
 then foregathered at Gallopin's. They took 
 possession of a table in the rear room and for 
 an hour or more played pinochle for drinks. 
 Shad, who faced the door to the bar, looked up 
 from the cards as the slatted front doors swung 
 wide at the entrance of two men. 
 
 "Look who's here," he drawled. 
 
 Vick turned. Dill was advancing to the bar 
 with a rough-looking, heavily bearded man, who 
 might have been an elder brother. Dill had lost 
 his job at Dearborn's months before and Vick 
 noted, with no particular interest, however, that 
 he now wore the blue uniform of a street car 
 man. Dill did not notice the chums and Vick 
 gave his attention to the game. 
 
 Shad, to Vick's disgust, was nonchalantly 
 melding a hundred aces when their attention
 
 Gallopin' Dick Jessup 89 
 
 was attracted by a violent altercation. Dill and 
 his companion were indulging in a quarrel. 
 
 "Watch Gallopin'," Shad whispered, his eyes 
 shining. 
 
 Vick left the table and sauntered to the door, 
 the better to see what followed. There was a 
 line of men drinking at the bar and the profane 
 disputants gravitated to the center of the room, 
 where they threatened blows. 
 
 Their words were vicious and personal. Gal- 
 lopin', his face scowlingly black, hobbled free of 
 the counter and literally galloped upon the men. 
 With no word his fist swung against the 
 unshaven jaw of the older of the brawling pair 
 and the man fell. Gallopin' leaned over and 
 hooked his fingers into the prostrate man's 
 collar, intending to throw him out of the place. 
 
 He made the mistake of trusting his back to 
 Dill, who held in a hand a partly-empty beer 
 bottle. The younger ruffian lifted the weapon 
 high. Those at the bar, and Gallopin's assistant 
 behind it, stood motionless, but Vick, his hot blood 
 surging, leaped across the room and swung with 
 all his fury upon the neck of his old enemy. Dill 
 swayed and dropped upon Gallopin', who jerked 
 erect. 
 
 The bottle clattered to the floor and the man
 
 90 Saturday Nights 
 
 comprehended at once that which had transpired. 
 Something of a flash of gratitude lightened his 
 face, though he said nothing. 
 
 He dragged the heavier man through the 
 door to the side street and immediately hobbled 
 back for the unconscious Dill, whom he disposed 
 of in the same unceremonious manner. This 
 done, he came over to Vick, a grim semblance of 
 a smile on his lips as he wiped his hands with the 
 air of one who has finished a dirty task. 
 
 "Have a drink?" he said to the lad. 
 
 Shad joined Vick at the bar and Gallopin* set 
 out two glasses and a bottle. 
 
 In the vocabulary of the man there apparently 
 was no word of thanks, yet Vick could not help 
 but notice that Gallopin' eyed him closely, as if 
 his attention had just been called to him. Back 
 at their table Vick spoke, idly riffling the cards. 
 
 " Shad, I wouldn't take a hundred for the 
 pleasure of gettin* in that lick." 
 
 'You sure soaked the rummy, Vick." 
 
 "For my own self-respect I'd rather have hit 
 him when he could see me hittin', but this wasn't 
 no time to be choosey. The scum would have 
 murdered Gallopin*." 
 
 " That bottle would have brained m'm," Shad 
 agreed.
 
 Gallopin' Dick Jessup 91 
 
 "Oh, well, it's Sattiday," Vick pointed out. 
 "Most anything can happen now." 
 
 " Sattiday is the big time, all right." 
 
 In his earnestness Vick leaned forward, the 
 cards forgotten. 
 
 " Shad, lemme tell you somethin'. Sattiday's 
 the only time for us. We don't have no good 
 times any other days, do we? Just Sattidays an* 
 Sattiday nights. That's all. I ain't never had 
 anything worth while happen to me 'cept on 
 Sattidays. Any other time I might just's well 
 be dead. Sattiday is payday he only time I 
 ever have any money. For workin' folks all the 
 other days an' nights don't mean nothin' a-tall." 
 
 " That's right," Shad agreed. 
 
 '"Course it's right. I'd be 'most willin' to 
 spend all my other time in jail or somethin' if 
 they'd just give me a little money an' let me 
 out on Sattidays." 
 
 "Me, too." 
 
 "What's Dearborn's but a jail?" Vick aggres- 
 sively demanded. 
 
 " Same thing." 
 
 " Working folks don't own but one day in the 
 week. That's Sattiday. Half a day holiday, 
 draw your money, an' spend what little you got 
 left after you pay what you owe. Lay 'round
 
 92 Saturday Nights 
 
 Sundays, start in again on Monday's an' the 
 same thing over again. Far's me Vickery 
 Joyce is concerned person'ly, there ain't but 
 one day an' night in the week. That's Sattiday." 
 
 "You got it right, Vick," Shad stolidly 
 agreed. 
 
 It was late that night, and Vick was unsteady 
 with the weight of the liquor he carried, when 
 Gallopin' found himself with an idle minute. 
 He beckoned the lad and Vick went to him. 
 
 "Looky here, boy," said Gallopin', frowning 
 darkly, "why don't you cut this here stuff out?" 
 
 "What do I want to cut it out for?" Vick 
 demanded, a bit nettled. "Why don't you ask 
 'em other fellows that?" 
 
 "Aw, them ! " Gallopin's contempt was obvious. 
 "They'd never do it. They ain't no good for 
 nothin' else." 
 
 'You're a swell saloon man," Vick sarcasti- 
 cally commented. "Knockin' your customers." 
 
 " You're too lippy," Gallopin' growled. " Leave 
 'em others outer it. I'm talkin' to you. Not 
 'em. You're young yet. Take the advice of a 
 man what knows an' lay off the booze. Make 
 somethin* outer yourself. You're made outer 
 better stuff than 'em rough-necks." 
 
 Vick laughed, and Gallopin's mouth hard-
 
 Gallopin' Dick Jessup 93 
 
 ened. The man was not usually laughed at. 
 ''Better, hell!" Vick swore. "All of us are 
 
 fact'ry hands, Gallopin'; we ain't fit for nothin' 
 
 else." 
 
 " You're too wise for your years." 
 
 "Aw, come on," Vick chuckled, "come on an* 
 
 set out the bottle. You're still sellin' it, ain't 
 
 you?" 
 
 The man reddened and slammed a bottle to 
 the counter. 
 
 ; 'Yes, I'm still sellin' it if you got to have 
 it," he said, with lowering brows. "It's my 
 livin'." He pulled Vick very close and nodded 
 vigorously, giving emphasis to his words. "But 
 take notice, my gay young lad, I ain't drinkin' 
 
 it!" 
 
 ###### 
 
 The time came that spring when Vick and 
 Shad were perilously near to a rupture of their 
 brotherhood. Shad was jealous; he could not, 
 for the life of him, comprehend why Vick seemed 
 to prefer the companionship of Eva Wann. 
 
 Vick owned a healthy affection for his bull- 
 headed chum but he could not resist the appeal 
 of the girl. Deep in his heart he must have 
 admitted that, assured of the love of the be- 
 witching Eva, he would not, he could not, have
 
 94 Saturday Nights 
 
 hesitated to give up Shad. Such a choice he 
 endeavored to evade, explaining carefully for 
 the benefit of his chum the wide difference in 
 his regard for him and for the girl. 
 
 Shad was never wholly convinced. He shook 
 his stubborn head and swore with solemn 
 emphasis that he would not give the friendship 
 of Vick for any girl that graced the streets of 
 Burleyton. Vick pitied his ignorance of love. 
 
 At the finish of a violent wrangle a com- 
 promise was effected, whereby the chums would 
 continue, in any event, to have their Saturdays 
 for themselves. This Vick promised and was 
 quite safe, despite the enticement of Eva. In 
 Tobacco Flats it was bad form to call upon a 
 girl on Saturday. Thus amity between the pals 
 was preserved. 
 
 In Eva's first days at Dearborn's Vick sought, 
 and managed to find, numerous minor tasks in 
 the smoking room where she was employed. 
 Once Dad Updike needed the lad in the press 
 room and, at his belated appearance, reproached 
 him a bit brusquely for wasting his time around 
 the girl. Stung to anger by the deserved 
 rebuke Vick found refuge in his fiery temper 
 and astonished the old man, and himself as 
 well, by swearing at him.
 
 Gallopin' Dick Jessup 95 
 
 Viek's obvious infatuation soon became fac- 
 tory gossip. Moreover, his dog-like devotion flat- 
 tered Eva's native vanity and she boldly put his 
 love on display, to excite, perhaps, the envy of 
 the other girls. Vick was a desirable youth. 
 He could have turned his eyes elsewhere, and 
 fared better. Eva was not popular among the 
 other girls, but Vick, in his infatuation, saw 
 nothing but her pretty face. 
 
 The girl was all that Hesba Wyatt was not. 
 A flashy blonde, ear-ringed and rouged, born 
 an insatiate flirt, her mind was as coarse as her 
 features were flawless, yet with all her surface 
 beauty she was too shallow-minded to value 
 Viek's love. He satisfied her desire for mascu- 
 line admiration, her unbounded ambition for 
 conquest. With no especial effort she enslaved 
 him and in lais infatuation he endowed her with 
 all the noble qualities of Sir Nigel's lady. 
 
 Eva Wann's home was over a cluttered 
 grocery on Main Street, near the brink of the 
 stagnant creek that marked the border between 
 Tobacco Plats and Little HelL Vick was a 
 much more experienced youth before he forgot 
 the day OH which she first gave him permission 
 to call. 
 
 That evening, arrayed in his own best clothes
 
 96 Saturday Nights 
 
 and Shad's new hat, he climbed the stairway 
 beside the store, his heart beating rapidly with 
 excitement and anticipation. Following explicit 
 directions he tapped on the first left-hand door 
 upon the narrow landing. 
 
 Eva, sitting inside, did not answer immedi- 
 ately. To avoid any semblance of undue haste 
 she made him wait before she condescended to 
 give him entrance all this for effect. A 
 rickety three-legged table stood in the precise 
 center of the room, threatening to collapse at 
 any moment under the weight of a lamp almost 
 hidden by a tent-like shade of pink tissue paper. 
 Several chairs, a none-too-new rug, a dingy 
 couch in the farther corner, and four or five 
 gaudy calendars on the walls were reasons good 
 and sufficient for the place to be designated as 
 the parlor. 
 
 The lad stood blinking, ill at ease, embar- 
 rassed by the fact that he was alone in the room 
 with her. 
 
 "Gimme your hat, Vick," she said, and 
 coquettishly possessed herself of it. "What 
 you gappin' at?" 
 
 " The light, it hurt my eyes when I first came 
 in," Vick stammered in his embarrassment. 
 
 Eva dimpled at the evasion. The light was
 
 Gallopin' Dick Jessup 97 
 
 pinkishly soft and very dim. She had seen to 
 that. Though they both were of the same years, 
 standing on the threshold of manhood and 
 womanhood, the girl was infinitely the wiser in 
 the ways of the world. She was shrewdly aware 
 that her beauty bewildered the boy. 
 
 "Oh, yes," she said, smiling again, "comin' 
 in so sudden from the dark hall. The butler must 
 have forgot to turn on the 'lectricity. I'll have 
 to fire him, I'm 'fraid. He's gettin* so awful 
 uncareful." 
 
 Vick grinned. Eva led the way to the shad- 
 owed couch and, artfully brushing aside her 
 flouncing white skirt, made space for him, very, 
 very close. Then with her buoyant familiarity 
 she endeavored to put him at ease, yet Vick's 
 speech was vague and rambling until they began 
 to talk of herself and finally of love. Then 
 it was that the lad forgot his self-consciousness 
 and waxed eloquent. Eva proved a delightful 
 listener. When Vick left her that night the girl 
 owned him body and soul. And she knew it.
 
 Chapter 9 
 AT THE CROSS-ROADS 
 
 With the hot nights of mid-summer Vick 
 divided his hours of leisure almost equally be- 
 tween Eva and Shad. At least three evenings 
 a week, sometimes four, saw the lad at the home 
 of the girl. Within the confines of the tawdry 
 parlor over the grocery he was at ease, knowing 
 the same at-home feeling that was his in the 
 house in Yarder Street. Eva found keen delight 
 in his ready submissiveness to her variable 
 moods. There was blind faith in Vick's love. 
 
 "I know I ain't good 'nough for you," he 
 told her in a humble moment of adoration. 
 "Nobody is. You're pretty beautiful. But 
 I'm goin' to try an' make my love for you so 
 big that it'll make up for the diffrunce." 
 
 Eva carelessly accepted the tribute to her 
 loveliness as her due. Vick with others, per- 
 haps was fast teaching her that she was one 
 to be adored. The lad's evenings with her were 
 
 98
 
 At the Cross-Roads 99 
 
 by far the sweetest hours of his life, and this, 
 too, he told her in sober seriousness. 
 
 "Eva, if it wasn't for the time I have with 
 you I'd have mighty little pleasure," he said 
 one evening. "If I couldn't come to see you 
 I don't b'lieve I'd care a cent 'bout nothin'." 
 
 Vick meant every word. And Eva's laughter, 
 even with its tinge of arrogance, was music to 
 his ears. 
 
 His evenings away from her, Saturdays in- 
 cluded, he shared with the disgruntled yet loyal 
 Shad. Most of their time was wasted in 
 Gallopin* Dick's, under the cooling whir of the 
 ceiling fans. 
 
 On several occasions since the night when 
 Vick saved him from Dill, Gallopin', clumsily 
 trying to hide his earnestness under a heavy 
 sarcasm, had urged the lad to give up drinking. 
 With jeer and taunt the man endeavored to 
 shame him, but Vick continued in joyful uncon- 
 cern down his chosen path. With Shad, he now 
 adopted the age-old custom of the males of 
 Tobacco Flats of carrying home a Saturday 
 night drunk. 
 
 Shad sat with his towsled head across an arm 
 upon one of the card tables, oblivious to the 
 world. Vick, not quite so far gone, was beside
 
 Saturday Nights 
 
 him. In a lull at the bar Gallopin' hobbled 
 down the floor to the table, dragging a chair for 
 himself. 
 
 'You get drunk eve'y Sattiday, now, don't 
 you?" the man sneeringly commented. 
 
 "What's it to you?" Vick demanded. 
 
 "Nothin' nothin' a-tall," Gallopin' answered 
 smoothly, though his thin lips retained their curl. 
 "I was just noticin'." 
 
 'You're noticin' me too much, Galiopin' 
 you're takin' too much on yourself," Vick 
 angrily exclaimed. " I ain't askin' for no nurse 
 an' if I did, it wouldn't be you. Jump on some 
 of 'em others that's lickin' up your rot-gut 
 likker!" 
 
 "Them swine!" Gallopin' spat his utter con- 
 tempt. "They ain't no good 'cept to get 
 likkered up eve'y Sattiday night!" 
 
 "That's all we got comin' to us, I reggon 
 once a week a Sattiday night drunk," Vick 
 said sullenly. "That's all our fun." 
 
 "Fun! Why, the most of 'em had better 
 be at home with their pay envelopes for their 
 wives an' kids, they had." 
 
 A frown scarred Vick's forehead. "Look 
 here, Gallopin', what you always after me for? 
 An' why 're you always cussin' 'em fellows, your
 
 At the Cross-Roads 101 
 
 customers, out like you do? You sell the stuff, 
 don't you?" 
 
 The sneer slowly faded from Gallopin's 
 saturnine face. 
 
 "They're questions that's got answers comin* 
 to 'em, Vick," he said deliberately. "But if 
 anybody else had asked 'em, he'd most likely 
 have got a smash to the jaw. Anyhow, here's 
 the answer for you, an' only you. Don't for- 
 get that. Far's you're concerned I'd not be 
 sorry if you never spent another cent in here. 
 Like I told you before, you ain't like the rest of 
 'em. You got a good eddication an' you ought 
 to make somethin' outer yourself. You're goin' 
 with a girl, ain't you?" 
 
 "What if I am?" Vick answered curtly. 
 
 Gallopin' continued without anger. 
 
 "Well. Take for an instance that she loves 
 you an' you love her. Sometime you'll want 
 to marry her, won't you ? " 
 
 "More'n likely," Vick admitted. 
 
 "Sure you will!" Gallopin' approved heart- 
 ily. "Here's the whole idea, then; how you 
 goin' to marry her if you don't try to get 'head 
 in this here world an' make it worth while for 
 her to marry you ? Don't no girl want to marry 
 a rummy. 'Course, you could marry her, any-
 
 102 Saturday Nights 
 
 how, an' take a chanct if she ain't got no better 
 sense." 
 
 "That's well 'nough," Vick retorted sourly. 
 "But who are you, Gallopin', to preach at me? 
 You sell the stuff. You ought to practice what 
 you preach. If I thought as little as you 'pear 
 to think, of a drinkin' man, I'd get outer the 
 business, I would." 
 
 Gallopin's face darkened with anger and, 
 speechless, he glared at the boy. Vick watched 
 him, certain in his youthful egotism of his 
 ability to defend himself if Gallopin' should 
 answer with a blow. But when the man spoke 
 he spoke softly. 
 
 "Are you sober 'nough to listen to decent 
 talk, Vick Joyce?" 
 
 "I'm plenty sober." 
 
 "I ain't goin' to talk of my folks to a man 
 what's drunk." 
 
 "I ain't drunk." 
 
 Gallopin' continued solemnly: 
 
 " Listen, then. Here's the stand I take. You, 
 I want to see you go straight. The others that 
 come in here, they got to have their booze. If 
 they don't get it here they'll get it somewheres 
 else. But they'll get it, they got to have it. 
 This is my livin'. I'm a crip an' don't know no
 
 At the Cross-Roads 103 
 
 other game. God knows if I did I'd quit this 
 bus 'ness an' go to it! 
 
 "But I can't afford to take a chanct. 'Way 
 out in the edge of town is my fambly my wife 
 an' five little girls. Think of that, Vick Joyce." 
 The man's voice held not a trace of its habitual 
 harshness. "Five little girls. They live as far 
 'way from this here dump as I can get 'em an' 
 they don't know what their daddy does for a 
 livin'. I'm bankin* that by the time they get 
 bigger somethin' will turn up that'll gimme the 
 nerve to quit. I don't care what. But like 
 things are now I can't take the chanct. 'Em 
 girls have got to be raised an' it's goin' to take a 
 pile of money. 
 
 'You can see, now, can't you, lad, why I 
 don't get outer the bus'ness. There's a livin' 
 here for me an' 'em. 'Em little girls is the life 
 of me; they got to have their chanct in their 
 tussle with life. If I quit the saloon there's 
 nothin' 'head of 'em but a fact'ry an' God 
 knows there's too many fact'ry girls in Burley- 
 ton now!" 
 
 "Right, Gallopin'!" Vick agreed. "You're 
 right, an' I'm a cheese. You been talkin' sense 
 to me. I can do better than I been doin' an' I'm 
 goin' to. There's somebody at home." A vision
 
 104 Saturday Nights 
 
 of Sarah with sorrowing face swam before his 
 bleared eyes. "I'm goin' to cut it out, Gal- 
 lopin', but it'll be hard as hell to stay outer 
 here." 
 
 "You ain't got to," Gallopin' declared. "I 
 stay here, don't I? I don't drink, do I? You 
 drop in whenever you feel like it. I'm your 
 friend an' I want to talk to you." 
 
 "All right," Vick promised. 
 
 He reached for the shoulder of the sodden 
 Shad. Gallopin' grasped the extended hand. 
 
 "Lemme say one more thing, Vick Joyce." 
 The man had resumed his mask of sardonic 
 harshness. "I've opened up to you wide an' 
 talked 'bout my little girls. I want to warn 
 you; don't you never pass what I said on to 
 somebody else. Understand? I know you'll 
 keep a shut mouth 'less sometime, in spite of 
 yourself, you get tanked up. If you ever do 
 open up an* Gallopin' Dick hears of it, our 
 friendship is done finished. Besides that, I'll 
 knock your blasted head off!" 
 
 Vick met the threatening glare in the eyes of 
 the older man with a smile. 
 
 " I'm tellin' you plain, Gallopin'," he said, " I 
 ain't sure you're man 'nough to do that. Any- 
 how, I ain't aimin' to spill a word of what you
 
 At the Cross-Roads 105 
 
 told me. If I did, I reggon for such a low-down 
 trick I'd stand still an' let you knock my head 
 off." 
 
 Gallopin', carrying his habitual scowl, limped 
 back to his place behind the bar, while Vick 
 roused Shad into some semblance of life. That 
 Saturday night the lad reached home earlier 
 than usual. And he was sober when he got 
 
 there. 
 
 ****** 
 
 To Shad's bewildered disgust Vick did stop 
 drinking, for a time. Loyal to the painful end, 
 the stolid youth swore that he too would "cut 
 out the stuff." He meant it then but the very 
 next Saturday night Vick did his duty by his pal 
 and piloted him home. 
 
 Vick was harassed by his own tribulations in 
 the days that followed. There was nothing to 
 do; nowhere to go save during the hours he 
 was permitted to spend with Eva Wann. The 
 boy felt that if he could always be with her, his 
 reformation would have been much easier. To 
 Vick the girl was an intoxicant. Strong drink 
 could not have more surely bewitched him of his 
 senses. 
 
 For several nights Gallopin' Dick covertly 
 watched him as he moped in his misery around
 
 106 Saturday Nights 
 
 the saloon. The lad was among the crowd yet 
 not of it. Gallopin', with long years of experi- 
 ence, knew that Vick could not forever with- 
 stand the unceasing urge of Shad to " be human 
 and have a drink." Gallopin' must have given 
 some thought to the problem. 
 
 "Vick," he said one night, taking care to 
 avoid any manner of seriousness, "things are 
 kinder slow, ain't they? Why don't you join 
 the Guards?" 
 
 "Huh? The Guards?" 
 
 " Sure. The military, you know. There's a 
 chanct for a lad like you to get next to some 
 good people. They're always pullin' off some 
 stunt, too, excitin'; boxin' an' the like." 
 
 "That so?" Vick was interested. 
 
 "They got a first-class gym, with a bath an' 
 eve'ything, so I hear. Man, if I was younger 
 an' had legs that was mates, I'd go in myself. 
 Ain't no hard work to it; just parades an' such 
 doin's on Memorial days an' such times. Why 
 don't you join 'em, Vick? Then you'd have a 
 place to go on your off nights." 
 
 "Reggon they'd take me, Gallopin'?" 
 
 Gallopin* smiled his delight. 
 
 " Glad to get you. One of the officers works 
 'cross the way. He drops in sometimes for a
 
 At the Cross-Roads 107 
 
 beer. Was tellin' me today that they was 
 wantin' recruits." 
 
 "How often d'you have to go?" 
 
 "Drill two nights a week." 
 
 Vick considered. His regular engagements 
 with Eva, in addition to two drill nights, would 
 about fill his hours of recreation. Idle time in 
 or about the saloon made difficult going of his 
 determination not to drink. 
 
 "I b'lieve I'll join," he said; "me an* Shad." 
 
 "Him?" 
 
 "Sure, him! He's always stuck to me, ain't 
 he? If it'll do me good it'll do him good." 
 
 "All right, take him along. It might help the 
 rummy, at that." 
 
 When the matter was broached to Shad he 
 promptly declined to consider the proposition. 
 
 " I don't wanter be no soldier, Vick." 
 
 "Aw, take a tumble, Shad. Who's askin' you 
 to be a soldier?" Vick was mildly sarcastic. 
 "This is just play." 
 
 "I don't wanter even play bein' a soldier. 
 Sometime or 'nother they'll take these here play- 
 boys an' give 'em some shootin' to do. An' 
 when you shoot at somebody somebody's 
 more'n likely to shoot back at you." 
 
 "What if they do?" Vick scornfully replied.
 
 108 Saturday Nights 
 
 "You're a man, ain't you, same as me? All 
 you think 'bout is lickin' up whisky!" 
 
 Ultimately Shad was shamed into agreement 
 and was sworn, along with Vick, into the ranks 
 of the Burleyton Guards. Vick was ardent. 
 The venture appealed to him, but Shad was 
 more than reluctant. Yet even he admitted, 
 after several drills, that play-soldiering, as he 
 termed it, was interesting. 
 
 In the first weeks the chums were regular in 
 their attendance when drill nights rolled around. 
 Vick took care that Shad accompanied him, not 
 permitting the chum's interest to lag. 
 
 It was not long, however, before the interests 
 of B Company and Eva Wann clashed. The 
 girl feared that Vick's increasing interest in the 
 Guards would mean decreasing interest in her 
 and that she was determined to prevent. She 
 began her campaign by claiming drill nights as 
 her own and made it plain to Vick that he must 
 be with her those evenings if at all. 
 
 At first she had her way; then one day Vick 
 decided to resist. He would fight fire with fire. 
 The previous evening Eva, knowing the next was 
 drill night, had suggested that Vick call, but he 
 had refused to promise. Knowing his weakness 
 where Eva was involved, he realized that some-
 
 At the Cross-Roads 109 
 
 thing more amusing, or more of a duty, than 
 drill was necessary to keep him away from the 
 Wann flat. Determined not to yield, he chanced 
 upon a happy thought. Just before he left 
 home he promised Hesba he would later come 
 back for her and take her to a show. 
 
 The brown-eyed girl was delighted. To-night, 
 Vick assured himself, he would miss the drill but 
 whatever happened he would not disappoint 
 Hesba. 
 
 In Gallopin' Dick's Vick stood talking to his 
 chum. "You run 'long, Shad. I ain't goin' to 
 the armory to-night." 
 
 "Ain't goin' to drill? Why?" 
 
 "Got other fish to fry." 
 
 Shad thought he understood. 
 
 "Ain't girls hell, now?" he inquired of the 
 world in general. "They sure a keep a man 
 worried up ! " 
 
 He ignored Vick's glare and, strolling over 
 to a table, settled himself for the evening. With 
 his pal not there the armory held little attraction 
 for Shad. 
 
 Vick sauntered through the night toward home 
 and the waiting Hesba. The nearer he approached 
 the house the slower he walked and at the corner 
 he came to a full stop. He could see a light in
 
 110 Saturday Nights 
 
 Mrs. Cooper's front room and imagined he 
 discerned a gleam of white in the shadows of 
 the tiny porch. 
 
 For a full minute the lad stood in indecision; 
 then, surrendering to the sudden urge, he spun 
 on his heel and hurried down Yarder Street. 
 As he went he tried to put the thought of that 
 
 waiting figure on the porch out of his mnd. 
 
 ****** 
 
 With the uncomfortable feeling of one evad- 
 ing a duty Vick climbed the gloomy steps to the 
 Wann flat. At his knock Eva opened the door 
 and he stepped into the parlor. Upon the couch, 
 in the very spot where he had sat so many times 
 with Eva, lounged the grinning Dill, resplend- 
 ent in a new suit of shrieking checks. 
 
 Vick did not speak to his enemy, he dared not. 
 Once he opened his mouth his tongue would be 
 beyond his control. Inarticulate in his anger he 
 turned upon the smiling girl. 
 
 "Hello." Eva spoke coolly, too coolly. "I 
 wasn't 'spectin' you, Vick, you didn't tell me 
 you was comin.' I had the date open an' I give 
 it to Mr. Dill." 
 
 Mr. Dill widened his expansive grin and 
 settled himself more comfortably, enjoying the 
 humiliation of his rival.
 
 At the Cross-Roads 111 
 
 "All right," Vick muttered and turned to 
 leave. 
 
 "Oh, you're not goin'?" Eva's voice was 
 clingingly sweet. 
 
 " I'm goin'." The lad spoke thickly. He could 
 not trust himself there, in front of Dill, to say 
 more. Eva followed him into the hall, and took 
 care to close the door behind her. 
 
 'You're not mad," she cooed. 
 
 "Mad mad?" he incoherently replied. "I 
 could choke the life outer that fellow ! " 
 
 " But you're not mad at me, Vick." 
 
 She nestled close to him, challenging him, 
 luring him. He swept her rudely into his arms 
 and she yielded him her lips. He crushed them 
 with his own, hurting her, and she thrust herself 
 from him. Eva had yet to lose command of her 
 calculating self. There must no tinge of pain 
 for her in the love she accepted. She was exact- 
 ing, requiring nothing more or less than total 
 submissiveness. In return she gave nothing. 
 
 "I reggon I can't stay mad with you," Vick 
 whispered. 'You walk on me, you treat me 
 like you would a dog, an' I have to take it!" 
 
 She smiled in the darkness. "Then why're 
 you leavin' me?" 
 
 " Get rid of that fellow an' I'll stay."
 
 112 Saturday Nights 
 
 "You had your chanct to come. Last night 
 you wouldn't promise." 
 
 " I hated to miss the drill." 
 
 "My Gawd, an' still you say you love me! 
 You put 'em tin soldiers first ahead of me!" 
 
 "You don't understand 
 
 "I understand a plenty!" she stormily 
 interrupted. 
 
 "Won't you tell him to go, Eva?" 
 
 A thrilling silence in the dark, then at length 
 a much subdued youth spoke. 
 
 "Can I come to see you tomorrow night, 
 then?" 
 
 "I reggon so." 
 
 She left him there in the hall and Vick, im- 
 partially cursing himself, Dill, and the girl, 
 plunged' down the stairs. He was white and 
 drawn of face when, half an hour later, he 
 slammed through the doors of Gallopin' Dick's. 
 Shad was yet there and the two stepped to the 
 bar. 
 
 "Whisky," Vick said to Gallopin'. 
 
 The man showed his surprise. " Now, boy " 
 
 Vick allowed himself a weary gesture. 
 
 "I'm sick of that talk!" he snapped. 
 
 "Drink, then!" Gallopin' growled. "Swim 
 in it, sink in it, drown in it, you blasted fool!"
 
 At the Cross-Roads 113 
 
 Next morning Vick met Hesba in the down- 
 stairs halls, both on their way to work. The lad 
 would have avoided a meeting but the girl con- 
 fronted him. He halted irresolute, shamefaced 
 and something more. Here was a new Hesba, 
 chin high in regal resentment, brown eyes 
 snapping their anger. 
 
 "I enjoyed the show last night," she said 
 evenly. 
 
 "Aw, Hesba" 
 
 " I just want to remind you that I didn't put 
 myself in your way. I didn't ask you to take 
 me. And I waited. Whatever faults you got 
 I had no reason to think you were a liar!" 
 
 "But I wasn't," Vick protested. 
 
 Her brows lifted in open disbelief. "Then 
 why did you break the engagement?" 
 
 "Somethin' come up that kept me 'way; I'll 
 tell you sometime," he mumbled, averting his 
 face. 
 
 "You don't have to tell me; I'm not expect- 
 ing any apology from you!" Vick winced. 
 The words cut. "When you'd rather be with 
 Eva Wann why make an engagement with me, 
 and then break it?" 
 
 "I didn't mean to, Hesba," earnestly. "I 
 meant to come back for you. But she, Eva I
 
 114 Saturday Mghts 
 
 got to thinkin' 'bout her. I tried to come, I got 
 far's the corner, but I had to, somethin' made me 
 turn an' go to her." 
 
 "You mean to tell me," Hesba flashed, "that 
 you're her slave? She walks on you, Vick Joyce. 
 You've no more spirit than a cur." 
 
 "I had to go." 
 
 Hesba laughed her scorn, but she lowered her 
 lids that he might not see the pain in her eyes. 
 
 " I can't say I like your taste," she remarked, 
 tossing her head. "Eva Warm!" 
 
 The disdain in the vibrant voice lashed him. 
 Inwardly, Vick raged, raged that one held him 
 to the sway of her passing whims and that the 
 other comprehended the helpless humiliation of 
 it. He was ready to force a way past her but 
 with his first move Hesba stepped aside as if she 
 were glad to, as if she might not touch one so 
 base. Some mornings the two walked together 
 as far as Main Street but not this morning.
 
 Chapter 10 
 
 \ 
 
 CAVE-MAN TACTICS 
 
 It was late afternoon at Dearborn's. Dad 
 Updike, from some investigation upstairs, came 
 down to the press room and peering over his 
 silver-framed spectacles searched the place even 
 unto its darkened corners. Patience fled the old 
 man's face and upon his homely features a frown 
 appeared. 
 
 "Dag that love-sick Vick!" he ejaculated. 
 
 One long stride placed him within reach of a 
 tier of steam pipes, one which bent abruptly 
 down into the smoking room. Upon it Dad 
 rapped smartly with an iron weight. 
 
 Below, Vick heard his chief's signal of wrath. 
 He hurriedly ended a whispered conversation 
 with the queenly Eva and hastened up to his 
 impatient superior. 
 
 "Dag it all, Vick!" Dad exclaimed. "You 
 ain't never on the floor when I want you. Ain't 
 you never goin' to stay 'way from that gal a 
 hour at a time?" 
 
 115
 
 116 Saturday Mghts 
 
 "Aw, Dad," Vick remonstrated, evading the 
 reference to Eva. "I ain't been gone over two 
 minutes. I ain't no slave." 
 
 " Naw you ain't no slave, not to your work." 
 Vick flushed. "All you got to do is to put in 
 your time right here an' not hang 'round that 
 red-headed gal in the smokin' room." 
 
 "I don't hang 'round her!" Vick retorted, 
 flushing in his anger. "An' she ain't red- 
 headed!" 
 
 "She ain't, ain't she?" Dad growled. "Any- 
 how, the color of her hair ain't got nothin' a-tall 
 to do with it. You're shirkin' your job, that's 
 the sum total of it ! " 
 
 "I ain't!" Vick flared. "I'm on the job 'most 
 all the time. Can't I leave for a minute?" 
 
 "Aw, Vick," the old fellow was almost plead- 
 ing, " I wouldn't mind it so much if she was the 
 gal for you. But she's making a clown outer 
 you, lad." 
 
 "That's my funeral." 
 
 "I ain't sayin' it ain't," said Dad, quietly, 
 "but so be it happens that I'm a mourner. I 
 reggon I got a right to a word or so. 'Seems 
 to me, boy, if I wanted a gal I'd get me one 
 that's loyal. Anyhow, one what wouldn't put 
 me up for a promiscuous laugh from all hands
 
 Cave-Man Tactics 117 
 
 in a tobacco fact'ry, just because I was crazy 
 about her." 
 
 " She is loyal," Vick protested. 
 
 " Loyal! " The lanky foreman laughed at the 
 idea. "If she's loyal to you, Vick, then the 
 word ain't got the same meanin' it use to have." 
 
 "What d'you mean?" 
 
 " She ain't loyal, that's all. You went to 
 school more'n I ever did, I reggon, an' you 
 know the full meanin' of the word." 
 
 " She is loyal," Vick said stubbornly. 
 
 "Vick," earnestly, "I'm goin' to speak a plain 
 piece. That gal ain't good 'nough for you. She 
 flirts, why, dag it, boy, she flirts with eve'body 
 in the fact'ry. Sure, lad," Dad continued, "if 
 she was a gal who might make you a good wife 
 some day, why, I wouldn't care if you did waste 
 a bit of time with her. But she ain't, an' you 
 can't." 
 
 " I don't think any more of you for tryin' to 
 blacken her character." Vick's voice was strained. 
 
 "Right this minute I know you don't, Vick." 
 Dad was never more serious in his serious life. 
 "But I weighed my words. Like I said, she's 
 a flirt, a cold-blooded flirt, an' I know it. She's 
 purty, I got to admit, but when you've said that 
 you've said all of it."
 
 118 Saturday Nights 
 
 "You got to prove that, Dad Updike!" Vick 
 snapped. 
 
 "Hey?" Dad stared his surprise over his 
 glasses. "Prove it? Well, now " 
 
 "You got to" relentlessly. 
 
 " Well, now," deliberately, " I reggon I can." 
 The old man held his tongue for an instant's 
 thought. "I ain't much to look at in the way 
 of hem' handsome. That's truth, ain't it?" 
 
 "Yes," Vick brutally agreed. 
 
 Dad grinned. " Then, if the gal'll flirt with 
 me, an old man, just cause I'm a male, you'll 
 b'lieve, won't you, that she's one of nature's 
 nuisances, a rattle-brained flirt?" 
 
 Vick was silent. 
 
 "Won't you?" Dad was gentle. "Come 
 now. A fair test, lad." 
 
 " I reggon so." 
 
 "All right. The quittin' whistle'll blow in 
 a minute. When it does you put yourself where 
 she can't see you an' you'll find out that old 
 Dad's been talkin' sense." 
 
 " 'Tain't fair, spyin' on her." 
 
 Dad countered shrewdly: 
 
 ' 'Tis fair in a case like this here. If she's a 
 nice gal, nice 'nough to be your wife, she'll pay 
 no 'tention to the carryin'-ons of a ugly old guy
 
 Cave-Man Tactics H9 
 
 like me. If she ain't a nice gal you want to 
 know it." 
 
 They were in Updike's office when someone in 
 the engine room jerked wide the throttle of the 
 whistle and Dad made ready for the street. 
 Chuckling with the zest of the game he motioned 
 Vick to secrete himself. Dad had, since first he 
 heard the gossip about Eva and Vick, observed 
 the girl keenly at every opportunity, and he felt 
 no quaver of conscience when he stationed 
 himself in the office door. 
 
 She came mincing through the main aisle, her 
 bright eyes darting this way and that, as if in 
 quest of masculine prey. Dad struck a jaunty 
 pose and called. 
 
 "Hello, purty!" 
 
 Vick, behind the door, winced at the caressing 
 inflection of the old man's voice. 
 
 " Hello, gran'pop," Eva coquettishly answered. 
 The call of the male was compelling and she 
 stopped, flashing a smile. 
 
 "What's your hurry?" 
 
 "Hurry? It's gettin' time to eat, ain't it?" 
 
 "Aw, plenty of time. Come here a second. 
 How 'bout me an' you just us goin' uptown 
 some night an' havin' a big supper? After a 
 show, just you an' me?"
 
 120 Saturday Nights 
 
 With incredible boldness, from the anguished 
 viewpoint of Vick, Dad fondled the girl's smooth 
 chin with a bony forefinger. The eyes of the 
 lad hardened. The girl, his girl, did not resent 
 the impudent action; moreover, she roguishly 
 dimpled, apparently enjoying the familiarity. 
 
 "Go on, gran'pop! You wouldn't do it." 
 
 "Who, me? Wouldn't I, now?" Dad spoke 
 gaily. "The old boy ain't so old, p'haps, as he 
 looks. How 'bout it, little purty?" 
 
 Eva, still smiling, measured him. 
 
 " I got the coin, all right," Dad boasted. " I 
 ain't so handsome as some of the young pups 
 'round here, but I got the coin an' they ain't. 
 How 'bout it, Miss Lady?" 
 
 "It's a bet, Dad. I'll go with you." 
 
 "What night?" 
 
 "'Most any." 
 
 "What 'bout Vick, though? S'pose it's his 
 night to see you?" 
 
 "Aw, why worry," Eva carelessly retorted. 
 " He ain't bound to see me any partic'lar night. 
 We can easy put him off." 
 
 Dad grasped a willing hand and squeezed it 
 tightly. The old fellow must have played the 
 game himself in his day. 
 
 "How 'bout a little hug, Eva; just one to
 
 Cave-Man Tactics 121 
 
 show your word's good, that we understand each 
 other," Dad suggested, speaking confidentially, 
 though not so low that Vick could not hear and 
 hearing, bit his lips till the blood came. 
 
 Laughing, she gazed archly up at Dad, 
 neither denying nor giving the desired per- 
 mission. Dad was there for a purpose. He 
 relentlessly grabbed her, and as relentlessly 
 hugged her. Still laughing, Eva broke free and 
 walked off, smoothing her ruffled feathers. 
 
 "Don't forget!" Dad called, grinning shame- 
 lessly. 
 
 Still grinning, Dad turned into the office. 
 "Well, Vick" 
 
 The remark was never ended. The grin froze 
 tight for an instant, then gave place to a look of 
 fear as the older man saw Vick charging at him, 
 his fists swinging, his face bloodless in jealous 
 fury. 
 
 The foreman, strong and active in spite of his 
 age, might have put up a defense if there had 
 been time, but before he could move Vick struck. 
 The blow caught Dad upon the point of his chin. 
 His spectacles sailed into a corner, breaking into 
 bits, his gangling legs failed him, and he settled 
 to the floor out. 
 
 Vick ran for his coat and cap. He felt no pity
 
 122 Saturday Nights 
 
 for the stricken man. There was in his heart, at 
 the moment, no room for any emotion but hate, 
 hate of everyone, everything Dad, the girl, 
 and himself. 
 
 "Damn the old hypocrite!" he raged as he 
 stepped into Main Street. "Damn Dearborn's 
 I'm done with the rotten dump an* eve'ybody 
 
 in it!" 
 
 ****** 
 
 To Sarah's consternation Vick began to loaf 
 and, making things worse in the beginning, he 
 did not tell his sister why he had given up his 
 job. Sarah was bound to have the facts. At 
 Lynn's first call she got the truth from him. 
 
 She pleaded with Vick to apologize to Dad 
 and petition for his place again. The vehemence 
 of the lad's refusal startled her. He swore 
 that never again would he work at Dearborn's 
 and to himself he vowed he would not go near 
 Eva Wann. 
 
 Moodily engrossed with the struggle to keep 
 away from the girl Vick idled for hours in 
 Gallopin' Dick's, to that worthy's outspoken 
 disgust. At meal times the lad dispiritedly 
 dragged himself to the house in Yarder Street. 
 
 The first Saturday after the quarrel Shad, at 
 Vick's request, brought him the envelope con-
 
 Cave-Man Tactics 123 
 
 taining what money he had earned. Of this 
 Sarah received nothing. That night Vick 
 squandered every cent, seeking, and finding, 
 forgetfulness. 
 
 He came home with the dawn, finding an 
 apprehensive Sarah. This was the first time 
 Vick had stayed away the entire night and his 
 wan face showed the strain of his dissipation. 
 
 "Vick, Vick," Sarah pleaded, "what are you 
 comin' to?" 
 
 " Lemme 'lone, go to sleep," he mumbled, and 
 fell upon the cot in the kitchen. 
 
 Some hours later, sober and sick, he promised 
 Sarah he would on the morrow seek a job. But 
 he steadfastly refused to humble himself, as he 
 phrased it, to Dad Updike. Anything else. 
 
 Next morning Vick confided in Gallopin'. 
 The saloon man was not without a certain 
 amount of influence. After lecturing the lad he 
 gave him a note to an official of the street car 
 company, and that day saw Vick on the rear 
 platform of a Main Street car, a beginner, work- 
 ing under the eyes of an experienced conductor. 
 
 As the week passed, Vick felt the longing to 
 see Eva grow stronger and stronger, and even 
 while he cursed himself for his weakness, he 
 knew that the longing would master him in the
 
 124 Saturday Nights 
 
 end. If there could have been any plausible 
 explanation of the scene with Updike Vick 
 would have rushed to her and, on his knees, 
 gladly begged her forgiveness for his neglect. 
 But he realized, now, that Dad had described 
 her exactly. She was what she was, but what- 
 ever she was he loved her. 
 
 On Sunday Vick knew himself no longer 
 able to resist the attraction. In the afternoon he 
 went to her, abject in his surrneder. It was a 
 conquered lad that climbed the stairs to the 
 Wann home. 
 
 Eva opened the parlor door. 
 
 "Vick, where've you been?" she demanded, 
 as one might have greeted the return of a 
 strayed dog. 
 
 "I've been sick, Eva; sick for you." 
 
 "Aw, Vick!" 
 
 " I want to have a long talk," Vick continued 
 soberly. "Let's go out some place. Up on the 
 bluff." 
 
 He did not mention her behavior with Dad. 
 It could not have done any good. On the street 
 corner below they boarded a car and rode out to 
 The Heights. Eva was vivacious, while Vick 
 was silent. He was angry with himself that he 
 was content just to be near her.
 
 Cave-Man Tactics 125 
 
 Reaching The Heights they left the trolley 
 and sauntered down a path to the bluff that 
 overhung the shallow falls of the river. On a 
 grassy spot they seated themselves. 
 
 The river was low, yet even then the current 
 was tremendous. The water rushed swiftly past 
 gigantic bowlders, partly submerged, their tops 
 rusty-brown of color. Below the rocks, nearer 
 the smoother water of Tobacco Flats, the slanting 
 ends of fish-traps jutted above the surface. The 
 slatted bottom of one held captive a floundering 
 fish, its scales agleam in the sunlight. 
 
 " Now we can talk," Vick began. " Of course, 
 I'm comin' to see you to-night, too, but we can't 
 talk at your home like we can out here by 
 ourselves." 
 
 "You're right 'bout that," Eva laughed. 
 ' You sure won't be able to talk much to-night." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " 'Cause Mr. Dill is comin'." 
 
 Vick's gray eyes darkened with anger. They 
 sat near the edge of the bluff, thirty feet above 
 the water. The girl indolently plucked a butter- 
 cup to tatters while Vick stared morosely at the 
 stream below. 
 
 His gaze lifted and was caught and held by 
 the dull glow of the summer sun on the roofs of
 
 126 Saturday Nights 
 
 Tobacco Flats. Farther along, the ramshackle 
 abodes of Little Hell clustered indiscriminately 
 in the protection of the river's arm, where it bent 
 and swept gracefully onward in a majestic 
 curve. With passionate impatience Vick turned 
 to the girl, love alive on his face. 
 
 " Eva, you got to break that date with Dill," 
 he said. 
 
 "Got to? An* why?" A tormenting smile 
 played about the corners of her mouth. 
 
 " 'Cause I love you." 
 
 "That ain't no reason." She laughed 
 mockingly. 
 
 "Ain't it?" he gravely questioned. "You 
 know I love you." 
 
 "Do I? Three-four have told me that; 
 Hawley Dill for one." 
 
 "Dill! He Aw, it makes me mad to even 
 think 'bout that fellow! My love is true, Eva, 
 it's love that'll live live clean through till 
 we're old. I tell you, my life won't be nothin' 
 if you ain't in it!" 
 
 "No?" In the blue depths of Eva's eyes 
 lurked provoking deviltry. 
 
 "Nothin' a-tall!" Vick vehemently affirmed. 
 "I hate to think of tryin' to live without you. 
 I b'lieve you love me, too, but you got a streak
 
 Cave-Man Tactics 127 
 
 of somethin' in you I can't understand. Looks 
 like you just won't give in to me. An' I don't 
 see how you can keep on fightin' my love, girl. 
 It's big big! It ought to draw you to me like 
 iron to a magnet!" 
 
 "A pity it don't," Eva drawled, a golden 
 butterfly at her rounded throat. 
 
 Vick trembled with a mighty longing to take 
 the girl in his arms and smother with kisses the 
 cool white skin against which the yellow glowed. 
 He restrained himself. He knew that Eva was 
 well aware that to him she was irresistible. This 
 was the day to play for all. She should not melt 
 him into his usual submissiveness. 
 
 "Listen!" he said roughly. "You got a date 
 to-night with that Dill. I'm tellin* you now, 
 Eva," his voice was guttural, "when he comes 
 to-night you won't be there 'less first you 
 promise to marry me." 
 
 "I won't!" she snapped. 
 
 "You will or" 
 
 "What?" she flashed. 
 
 'You've played with me long 'nough," Vick 
 evaded. 
 
 "Me played with you?" Her eyes were 
 wide in pretended innocence. 
 
 "Eva," the lad pleaded, "let's don't have no
 
 128 Saturday Nights 
 
 more foolin*. See I'm beggin' on my knees. 
 I'm willin* to beg. That ain't nothin', girl, to the 
 misery I been livin' in in the mortal dread that 
 somebody else Dill, maybe might get you!" 
 
 He caught her hands and kissed them hotly. 
 Eva was apparently unmoved by the passionate 
 pleading. She determinedly freed her hand 
 from his grasp. 
 
 "I ain't goin* to many you not yet, any- 
 how," she told him. 
 
 "Don't you love me?" 
 
 " I ain't so sure," smilingly. 
 
 Vick laid a hand upon her arm and the girl 
 shrank in mock fear. Moodily he watched her 
 as she stood erect, to him adorable in her beau- 
 tiful youth. He sprang beside her. 
 
 "You ain't treatin' me right!" 
 
 Eva shrugged her shapely shoulders. 
 
 "Oh, well, what's the diffrunce," she answered. 
 "Le's go home." 
 
 For a time Vick stood motionless, looking at 
 the mocking girL "Eva," he said at length, 
 carefully selecting his words, "I've begged for 
 the last time. Xow, right now, you got to 
 choose. Me or the river with me!" 
 
 "You're crazy." 
 
 "Crazy for you."
 
 Cave-Man Tactics 129 
 
 Uneasiness stirred the girl. "Stop playin', 
 Vick. I'm goin' home," 
 
 "To Dill? You ain't. You don't seem to 
 b'lieve that if you won't marry me you ain't 
 goin' to many nobody." 
 
 Eva stared, angry, her face colorless but for 
 the scarlet spots of rouge. She noted Vick's 
 look of determination and for the first time she 
 feared him. 
 
 " We can drown together. Death won't mean 
 much to me, with you." 
 
 "You're crazy," she said again. 
 
 " I ain't goin' to live without you. I love too 
 hard." 
 
 Eva realized, now, that the lad she had trifled 
 with was desperate. She turned to flee but Vick 
 caught and held her. In his madness he lifted 
 her from the ground and strode to the edge of 
 the cliff. The girl screamed as he jumped. 
 
 That cry of terror seemed to bring Vick back 
 to sanity. Gone now was his wild desire for 
 destruction and he cursed himself as he fought 
 the deadly grip of the current. Swiftly they 
 were swept along, at times perilously close to 
 the brown-topped rocks. In a little came calmer 
 water and Vick succeeded in lifting the uncon- 
 scious girl's head clear of the muddy river. The
 
 130 Saturday Nights 
 
 effort took all his remaining strength and he 
 realized he could not battle the current much 
 longer. Twice they went under, then the water 
 swept them with stunning force against the 
 slimy slats of a fish trap. 
 
 In desperation Vick dragged the girl free of 
 the sucking water. He heard a shout and looked 
 toward the shore. From the Burleyton side a 
 boat was putting out, the oars of a fisherman 
 dipping energetically. To Vick's unutterable 
 relief Eva gasped and opened her eyes. 
 
 " You're safe, Eva," he said. " Help is comin' 
 right now." 
 
 For once Eva had no flippant answer ready. 
 
 " This here's a mess," Vick contritely continued. 
 
 Still she would not speak. Realizing she was 
 safe, her only thoughts were of her appearance, 
 and she busied herself squeezing the water from 
 her hair. She coiled the damp locks and some- 
 how secured them in place as the boat bumped 
 against the trap. 
 
 "Fall in?" came the query of the sun-tanned 
 occupant. 
 
 "Off the bluff back there," Vick replied. 
 
 Apparently Eva was satisfied with the ex- 
 planation and Vick breathed easier. 
 
 "Hop in. I'll take you ashore."
 
 Cave-Man Tactics 131 
 
 The bedraggled pair clambered into the boat 
 and the fisherman turned the prow toward his 
 shack. 
 
 " Row us down the river, will you, near to the 
 fact'ries," Vick requested. " The lady's wet an' 
 can't go through the streets up here like that. 
 It'll be 'bout dark when we get down there." 
 
 Landing, they walked through the twilight to 
 Eva's home. At the foot of the stairway Vick 
 halted. 
 
 "Can you ever forgive me, Eva?" he asked. 
 "Won't you say somethin'?" 
 
 "I'll say somethin', Vick Joyce," the girl re- 
 plied harshly. "You're a blamed fool!"
 
 Chapter 11 
 THE WAY OF A WOMAN 
 
 Vick slept fitfully that night. In his dreams 
 he saw Eva's terror-stricken face as, with her in 
 his arms, he leaped from the bluff; each time in 
 mid-air he awoke, to catch himself, every muscle 
 tense, staring fearfully into the darkness. 
 
 With the first hint of daylight he left the cot 
 and dressed. Some time later Sarah made her 
 appearance and prepared breakfast. While 
 Vick was forcing himself to eat, Mrs. Cooper 
 came up for little Katie and Sarah departed 
 with Hesba for her cigarette machine at 
 Winter's. 
 
 With no thought of work Vick moped all day 
 at home, striving in vain to get away from the 
 shuddering horror of remembrance. His con- 
 science was tender and it ached. Ever with him 
 was the thought that he had deserved drowning, 
 if nothing worse, for taking Eva with him into 
 the clutch of the yellow river. Even now the 
 lad could scarcely comprehend the marvel of 
 
 132
 
 The Way of a Woman 133 
 
 their escape. It -could have been nothing less, he 
 concluded, than the work of God. And, on his 
 knees, he gave thanks that were as incoherent 
 as they were sincere. 
 
 Of one thing Vick was assured, and he tried 
 to face the issue squarely. He had lost Eva for- 
 ever. In his ignorance of women and their ways 
 he had imagined that he understood the workings 
 of Eva's mind. Now, there were to be no more 
 happy evenings for him in the Wann parlor. 
 He had no blame for the girl, but there was no 
 excuse for him, unless the overwhelming strength 
 of his love palliated his action of yesterday. 
 
 It was past six when Sarah came home from 
 the factory. After supper Vick, wholly ab- 
 sorbed in his desolation, walked down Yarder 
 Street. At Main he espied Shad in front of 
 Gallopin' Dick's awaiting his appearance. 
 
 "Where you been?" Shad asked. "Gallopin' 
 says you ain't been in today." 
 
 "I ain't been feelin' so good." Vick's voice 
 was disconsolate. 
 
 Shad stepped closer, out of hearing of others. 
 "Got a message for you, Vick from Eva 
 Wann." 
 
 The weary stoop vanished from Vick's shoul- 
 ders and his eyes flared his interest.
 
 134 Saturday Mghts 
 
 "What is it?" he demanded. "What did she 
 say?" 
 
 Shad grinned at the abrupt change in Vick's 
 bearing. 
 
 "She just told me to tell you she wanted to 
 see you." 
 
 "Did she tell you that?" Plainly Vick was 
 incredulous. 
 
 "She sure did." 
 
 For an instant the unexpected summons gave 
 him hope; then came the gloomy thought that he 
 was being summonsed, criminal that he was, to 
 receive Eva's sentence of punishment. His 
 shoulders drooped again. 
 
 " Shad, I'm in trouble," he muttered. 
 
 " Tell me, Vick. Maybe I can help." 
 
 " It's 'tween me an' her, Shad. You can't do 
 nothin'." 
 
 "I reggon I can't," Shad sulkily agreed. 
 "Things is gettin' mighty thick 'tween you an* 
 Eva Warm. You got right many secrets." 
 
 "Maybe I'll tell you this one after to-night. 
 It all depends on what's what." 
 
 With a "so-long" not especially cheerful Vick 
 left Shad and started for the girl's home. 
 
 Eva must have been waiting, for the door 
 opened at his first tap. Vick entered the room
 
 The Way of a Woman 135 
 
 hesitatingly. The light of the familiar lamp was 
 low and he could not discern her face distinctly. 
 Motionless, she stood in front of him. The lad 
 was half afraid to end the silence, fearing an 
 avalanche of bitter accusation. 
 
 "Eva I did you send " he faltered. 
 
 "Vick yes I sent for you. I'm glad you 
 came," she said, and there was laughter, the mirth 
 of unrestrained joy, in her voice. 
 
 Vick looked his amazement. Eva laughing, 
 when he had expected bitter reproaches ! 
 
 ' You ain't mad, girl? " he asked in wonder at 
 this miracle. 
 
 "I ain't mad, Vick. ... An' Vick. What 
 you asked me 'bout on the bluff 'bout love. I 
 think I know now." 
 
 With one irresistible sweep he gathered her in 
 his arms and she rested there, smiling. T4ie glo- 
 rious fact that she acknowledged her love was all 
 that Vick desired to learn. Just at the moment 
 the whys and wherefores did not interest him. 
 
 " You forgive me, Eva?" 
 
 Vick's madness on the river bank must have 
 made an impression upon the girl's heart, stir- 
 ring within her something of an echo of his 
 honest love. 
 
 4 'Course I forgive you, foolish," she whis-
 
 136 Saturday Nights 
 
 pered, "love made you do what you done. An' 
 it made me know what love is." 
 
 Vick murmured his thankfulness and kissed 
 her once more, lingeringly. Then he gently 
 grasped her arm and led her to the couch in the 
 corner. 
 
 "Le's talk," he suggested. 
 
 " 'Bout what? "archly. 
 
 " 'Bout our love an' marriage." 
 
 So they talked of their love and their mar- 
 riage. Though the wished-for ceremony ap- 
 peared only on the dim horizon of the vague 
 future, Vick was fatuously happy. To him it 
 seemed that all he wanted of life was within his 
 
 grasp at last. 
 
 * # * * # 
 
 Summer merged slowly into fall, then cold 
 weather. To Vick that winter was overlong and 
 filled with discouragement. With the contem- 
 plation of marriage as a stimulus he tried to save, 
 with the idea of bringing nearer the happy day. 
 But the capricious Eva was firm in her demands 
 for entertainment; therefore, the lad accumu- 
 lated little. For lack of something better he 
 stuck to his job on the street cars. 
 
 There were innumerable petty disputes and 
 one or two explosive quarrels. Vick could not
 
 The Way of a Woman 137 
 
 think of a happier manner of spending an even- 
 ing than to sit beside Eva on the couch in the 
 garish parlor. But uptown the night crowds 
 lured the girl. Quiet evenings at home were dis- 
 tinctly not her idea of a good time. She liked 
 best the crowded places where her beauty won 
 the bold, admiring glances of many men. Vick 
 stormed, but Eva had her way. 
 
 And then there was Dill. Vick never suc- 
 ceeded in wholly eliminating him. Dill, too, 
 worked on the cars and usually dropped in to 
 see Eva on those nights when Vick had to work. 
 At first Vick was furious arid it required all 
 Eva's wiles to cajole him into good humor. She 
 protested most solemnly that Dill was nothing 
 to her and that he called as a friend of the fam- 
 ily. Vick was not satisfied, but Dill continued 
 his haphazard visits and, as Eva carefully 
 explained, would not be driven away, however 
 curt the invitation to go. Vick came to believe 
 that Dill was extraordinarily thick-skinned. 
 
 But Eva's vanity required an admirer always 
 at her feet. To herself she said that Vick must 
 defend his own interests. Night runs, and drills 
 at the army left her many an evening free ; that 
 is, free of Vick. Sometimes those evenings were 
 rather a relief.
 
 138 Saturday Nights 
 
 An evening of early spring found Vick with 
 Eva. The windows of the parlor were open 
 and, though a discordant rumble arose from the 
 street, the invigorating air strove to banish the 
 musty closeness of the winter that was gone. 
 
 For a week Vick had worked a noon to mid- 
 night run and in the interval, that seemed age- 
 long to the lover, he had not luxuriated for the 
 briefest moment in his lady's smile. But the lad 
 had reason to suspect that the evenings had not 
 been terribly boresome to Eva; Dill had called 
 with suspicious frequency upon the Wann fam- 
 ily while Vick stamped impatient feet on the 
 rear platform of a jouncing street car. There- 
 fore, Vick was not excessively happy, though he 
 could not complain of the warmth of the girl's 
 greeting. Now, as they sat upon the couch Eva 
 commented with elaborate carelessness: 
 
 "Vick, I hear the car men've organized a 
 union." 
 
 * You heard right," was the short reply. 
 
 "I s'pose so," she returned easily. "I gen- 
 'rally do. Hawley Dill says things are rotten 
 an* gettin' worse all the time." 
 
 On general principles Vick hated to agree with 
 Dill, but he could not deny that Eva's informa- 
 tion was true.
 
 The Way of a Woman 139 
 
 " Things are rotten," he admitted. 
 
 "What're the men goin' to do 'bout it?" 
 
 " Somethin's got to be done. Twelve hours a 
 day, an' Sundays, an' just 'nough wages to live 
 on that is, if you're honest. Some ain't." 
 
 "Meanin' Dill, I reggon," Eva said sweetly. 
 " Well, all I got to say is he's smart 'nough to 
 get a decent livin'. You ain't." 
 
 "Smart!" Vick retorted with heat. "Any- 
 body can steal!" 
 
 " Some gets caught," she laughingly retaliated. 
 
 "Aw, it ain't such a great stunt gettin' money 
 if you don't care how you get it." 
 
 "What Hawley Dill does ain't stealm'," Eva 
 retorted. "I don't call it that. The comp'ny 
 owes eve'y man a livin' and it's up to 'em to 
 get it." 
 
 "It is their fault in a way," Vick admitted. 
 "They ought to make the men's wages large 
 'nough for 'em to live on." 
 
 "I'm glad you got a union, anyhow. Maybe 
 now you can make 'em do better by you. 'Course 
 you joined, Vick." 
 
 "I joined. What d'you think I am?" 
 
 " I knew you would." 
 
 " Nothin' else for me to do. The comp'ny ain't 
 treatin' us right. Times are hard an' a fellow
 
 140 Saturday Mghts 
 
 can't quit an' pick up a job eve'y day. The 
 bosses know it an' they're treatin' us like slaves. 
 They fine us for the least thing." 
 
 " Dill says the union'll give the men the upper 
 hand." 
 
 " I ain't so sure 'bout that." Vick was bound 
 to be honest. " Maybe it will an' maybe it 
 won't." 
 
 "Dill says there's always one thing, one club 
 the men have." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 " Strike." 
 
 Vick groaned. "Eva, that's the worst thing 
 we could do, strike ; 'less things get down to real 
 starvation. Then it might do some good. Any 
 other time a strike '11 hurt us more'n the 
 comp'ny." 
 
 " Dill says " 
 
 "That's all I been hearin' since I got here. 
 Dill says!" Vick interrupted. "He must have 
 been talkin' to you all week ! " 
 
 "No, he ain't been talkin' to me all week," 
 Eva replied coldly. 
 
 "That crook is a born anarchist, Eva. He's 
 forever lookin' for a pot of trouble, so he can put 
 his little stick in it an' stir it. The more row it 
 makes the better he likes it."
 
 The Way of a Woman 
 
 "He's nervy 'nough to stand up for his 
 rights!" 
 
 "He ain't nervy 'nough to do nothin' on the 
 level. He ain't much of a man ; he's a sneak ! " 
 
 "He's man 'nough to fight for what he 
 wants." 
 
 "There are ways an' ways to get what's 
 comin' to you, an' strikes ain't always the best 
 way. I'm a workin' man an' I b'lieve in the 
 rights of workin' men, but I try to think. I 
 read. Strikes hurt the workers most, even when 
 they seem to win. Dill's got a gang together, 
 fellers just like him. They're goin' to ask the 
 comp'ny for the world an' a white-washed fence 
 'round it. If they don't get eve'ything right 
 away they're goin' to try an' start a strike." 
 
 " They ain't askin' for a thing but what they 
 ought to have." 
 
 "You know 'bout that, too, hey? I'm tellin* 
 you, Eva, Dill is a wrecker. He wants to have 
 his way or bust everything to pieces. To get any- 
 thing for us men the union ought to feel its way 
 'long easy-like an' take things gradual. That 
 way they'll get somethin'." 
 
 By nature Eva was a militant rebel and Vick's 
 conservatism made no appeal to her. Her brain 
 was full of Dill's fiery theories of force.
 
 142 Saturday Nights 
 
 "I b'lieve like Dill," she stated positively. 
 "If the comp'ny won't give the men what they 
 want what they ought to have show 'em that 
 you ain't beggin' dogs. Show 'em you're human 
 bein's. I hope they do strike an' quick!" 
 
 "I don't," Vick insisted. "Not yet; not till 
 we try peaceful ways. First we ought to see 
 what we can get by bargainin'." 
 
 "You can't bargain!" Eva triumphantly an- 
 nounced. "They ain't goin' to deal with the 
 union. For 'em the union ain't." 
 
 " You seem to know more 'bout it than I do," 
 angrily. 
 
 " I know a plenty." 
 
 "Do you really want to see a strike, Eva?" 
 
 Her eyes flashed as she answered. " I cert'ny 
 do. I say the men's got to strike if the comp'ny 
 don't give in ! " 
 
 "But, girl," tenderly, "that'll mean our mar- 
 riage is put off longer." 
 
 Yearningly, Vick placed an arm about her 
 slender shoulders. She thrust it away, angrily 
 impatient, and jumped to her feet. 
 
 " I don't care ! " she exclaimed. " If you ain't 
 man 'nough to stand up for your rights we never 
 will get married ! "
 
 Chapter 12 
 WHEN BURLEYTON WALKED 
 
 At noon of the second day after his argument 
 with Eva, Vick, obeying instructions of officials 
 of the union, ran his car into the barns and left 
 it there. With scores of other men, sullen of 
 feature, he walked out. The strike was on. 
 
 That day gave the city its first taste of riot- 
 ing. The Heights viewed the outbreak with a 
 sour face, indicating exceeding distaste; Tobacco 
 Flats, in the beginning zestfully curious, hoped 
 frankly for free and more sustained entertain- 
 ment ; while from the first Little Hell roared its 
 vociferous approval. 
 
 An unimportant percentage of the car men, 
 fearful of wageless weeks or seeking favor, 
 remained at their posts, and the officials of .the 
 railway company with that remnant of their 
 organization, a remnant which rapidly dimin- 
 ished, endeavored to maintain a haphazard 
 schedule. 
 
 None of the hapless crews made more than 
 
 143
 
 144 Saturday Nights 
 
 one trip. On The Heights they were not dis- 
 turbed. Through the streets of Tobacco Flats 
 they merely ran a gantlet of taunts and invec- 
 tive. Abuse the men might have withstood, but 
 in the lower end of the city, rounding the loop 
 through Little Hell, they got a taste of battle. 
 There they were bombarded with stones and 
 other handy missiles till the cars, one by one, 
 lurched all but dismantled into the barns. That 
 night the tie-up was complete. 
 
 Then, perforce, Burleyton walked. 
 
 Rioting continued spasmodically in the vicin- 
 ity of the creek that edged the railway property. 
 The next day saw the advent of professional 
 strike breakers. Downtown a rumor persisted 
 that the railway company had demanded protec- 
 tion of the State; also, that the Governor was 
 considering the advisability of calling out the 
 Guards. 
 
 Sarah did not go to work. She appeared to 
 sense disaster in the strike and worried over 
 Vick. Little Katie had spent a rather feverish 
 night and, though Mrs. Cooper was thoroughly 
 trustworthy, the mother felt that she herself, for 
 a day at least, should attend to the child. Truth 
 to tell, Sarah was spiritless and was not equal to 
 the monotonous grind at Winter's.
 
 When Burleyton Walked 145 
 
 "You just got the blues, Sary," Mrs. 
 Cooper smilingly assured her. 
 
 "Maybe so," Sarah listlessly returned, "but I 
 feel like somethin' bad is goin' to happen." 
 
 At noon she was in the kitchen warming up a 
 lunch. Katie was asleep and Vick would not be 
 home for the mid-day meal. Busy at the stove 
 the girl heard the tread of heavy feet on the 
 landing outside and she faced the door. 
 
 Ja&per Timmons shambled in. Sarah twisted 
 her fingers and gasped in the misery of her 
 surprise. 
 
 " You needn't look so hard," the man sneered. 
 " It's your husband, all right, Missus Timmons." 
 
 Brutal of feature as ever he was and meaner 
 of aspect. The scraggly promise of a beard 
 darkened his face. Sweaty hair, lank and un- 
 combed, stuck to his frowning forehead as he 
 tossed a battered hat into a corner and deliber- 
 ately selected a chair. He was much at home. 
 His little red-flecked eyes measured the woman 
 before him. None of that rounded comeliness 
 had been hers the day he left. He moistened 
 his lips. 
 
 " I'm back," he stated. 
 
 " I see you are " dully. 
 
 " To stay," the man went on, punishing her.
 
 146 Saturday Nights 
 
 "In in Burleyton?" she faltered. 
 
 " Cert'ny in Burleyton. I've come back to my 
 fambly," Timmons assured her. 
 
 Sarah shuddered. In the past few weeks she 
 had come to realize that she was much in love 
 with the gentle-mannered Lynn. And she was 
 certain only that a vague fear that Timmons was 
 still living had kept the lover from speaking of 
 that which was in his own heart. She had been 
 was quite willing to become Sarah Lynn. 
 
 Of course, she had considered divorce, yet the 
 rumor of Timmons' death had impressed the girl. 
 She had wanted to believe the man was dead. 
 She had flinched from the course of divorce. 
 There had been Katie to consider. After all, 
 Timmons was her father. 
 
 And now here the man sat, in all his ugliness, 
 ruthlessly shattering dreams in which he owned 
 no place. 
 
 "We don't want you back," Sarah told him, 
 striving to keep alarm from her voice. " You left 
 us when we most needed you, an' now you've 
 come back when we don't need you or want you. 
 I had all but forgot you; I put you out of my 
 mind long ago. .You ain't got no place in my 
 life." 
 
 "I ain't?" Timmons leered. "I'm still your
 
 When Burleyton Walked 147 
 
 husband, ain't I? I'm willin' to take keer of 
 you an' the child. How you goin' to keep me 
 from doin' it?" 
 
 " We don't want you hack." 
 
 "Aw, you can't fool Jasper; you just heen 
 hopin* I'd come back, ain't you?" He was en- 
 joying himself immensely. " If you hadn't been 
 waitin' for me all this time you would have got 
 a divorce by now." 
 
 Sarah eyed him with disgust. 
 
 " Divorces cost money." 
 
 "You could have got somebody to pay the 
 price for you. How 'bout my friend Lynn?" 
 The man winked significantly. 
 
 "You leave him out of this. Mr. Lynn is a 
 gentleman." 
 
 "Meanin' I ain't?" Timmons suggested, 
 flaring. 
 
 Sarah would not answer. 
 
 "Anyhow, I'm back," he continued. "I'm 
 makin' good money an' I'm able to take keer of 
 you. I wanter do it, too for a while." He 
 laughed brutally. "I'm your husband an' the 
 law says you got to live with me." 
 
 ; ' You left me once," Sarah said firmly, white 
 and tight of lip. " You'll never get the chance 
 to do me dirt again, law or no law."
 
 148 Saturday Nights 
 
 Katie, barefooted, toddled into the kitchen, 
 digging pink knuckles into sleepy eyes. 
 
 " So that's the little one?" Timmons jocularly 
 observed, surveying the child with interest. 
 "Little Sarah?" 
 
 "Katie," Sarah coldly corrected. 
 
 " Katie, then," Timmons said. " It don't make 
 no diffrunce to me but you remember I used to 
 think one time that Sarah was a mighty purty 
 name, an' I thought you might have named her 
 that just to please me." He grinned maliciously. 
 " She's a good-lookin' kid, if I do say it that 
 shouldn't. Come here, Katie, an' talk to your 
 popper." 
 
 The child turned, looked again at the visitor, 
 and ran to her mother. Timmons chuckled 
 gleefully. 
 
 " Skeered of her own father," he jeered. 
 
 "Why shouldn't she be?" Sarah asked quietly. 
 
 " She'll soon get used to me," complacently. 
 
 " She'll never get used to you," Sarah retorted. 
 " You ain't comin' with us ! " 
 
 'You got it wrong; I cert'ny am." The man 
 glanced at the clock on the table. "Right now 
 I got to go. I got to get back on the job. The 
 chief let me off for a little, bein' as this was my 
 home burg. Do you know what I'm doin' ? "
 
 "I don't want to know!" 
 "You ain't got to, just so it brings the coin 
 in. I'm comin' back. You can be watchin' 
 
 for me." 
 
 ****** 
 
 Vick divided his time between Gallopin' Dick's 
 and strike headquarters in a hall near-by. When 
 he reached home in the late afternoon Mrs. 
 Cooper met him on the front porch and handed 
 him a card countersigned by his Guard com- 
 pany commander, ordering him to hold himself 
 in readiness for an emergency, and in any event 
 to report the following morning at the armory. 
 
 Upstairs, Sarah disconsolately told him of 
 her unwelcome visitor. 
 
 "He can't come here!" Vick protested. 
 
 "He says he is comin'," Sarah replied help- 
 lessly. 
 
 "Aw, don't you worry, Sis," Vick assured her. 
 " I'll see that he don't. I'll throw the brute out 
 if I ever catch him in here. He'll find out 
 mighty quick that I ain't the kid he slapped 
 'round the place the day he left you. Don't 
 you worry, Sis." 
 
 "He might hurt you, Vick." 
 
 "Who? Me? You let me worry 'bout that 
 If I ain't 'fraid I don't see why you should be.
 
 150 Saturday Nights 
 
 I don't b'lieve he'll try to come here, anyhow. 
 He's bluffin'. He wants to skeer you. Don't 
 you let him." 
 
 " He talked like he meant it." 
 
 "Did Mrs. Cooper see him?" 
 
 "No. She was down to the store." 
 
 "Did you tell her he'd been here?" 
 
 "Yes. She says he can't come in her house." 
 Sarah could not repress a smile at the memory 
 of the irascible old woman. 
 
 " That settles it, then. If he tries to get up 'em 
 stairs she'll murder him with that cane of hers. 
 Timmons always was more'n half skeered of 
 Mrs. Cooper." 
 
 After supper Vick sought Shad at the saloon. 
 That lad was a picture of gloom. He, too, had 
 received a Guard summons and was certain that 
 trouble was brewing. 
 
 "Vick," he exclaimed, " 'em gangs outer Little 
 Hell ain't goin' to be satisfied till some of 'em's 
 been shot up good an' proper. An' it's us 
 Guards what's got to do the shootinV 
 
 "It ain't the car men that's stirrin* up the 
 trouble, it's 'em hoodlums," Vick answered in 
 disgust. 
 
 "I know one car man what's in it up to the 
 neck."
 
 When Burleyton Walked 151 
 
 "Dill, hey? That roughneck would burn 
 down the barns if he got a chance." 
 
 "I reggon he would." 
 
 " It's him an' a few others stirrin' up the gangs 
 outer Little Hell that's keepin' things boilin'." 
 
 "Dill's goin' to cause more trouble, too, if 
 somebody don't cage him," Shad prophesied. 
 
 " He's hard to catch, Shad. He's tricky." 
 
 " What's Eva say 'bout you goin' out with the 
 Guards?" Shad inquired, frankly curious. 
 
 "Ain't seen her yet," Vick dejectedly replied. 
 " I'm goin' down there now. . . . She'll be 
 as sore as a stumped toe." 
 
 Shad grinned. 
 
 " 'Tain't nothin' to laugh at, Shad," Vick re- 
 marked. "Here I'm strikin' an' by to-morrow, 
 anyhow, I got to go out with the Guards an' 
 help the street car comp'ny, in a way, to beat my 
 own people. I didn't want to see no riotin', 
 Shad; I wanted us to win in a peaceful way." 
 
 The lad was visibly harassed. He left the 
 saloon and walked slowly to Eva's home. He 
 planned to explain the involved situation to her. 
 He would seek her sympathy. She, at least, 
 should understand. 
 
 The girl was expecting him. 
 
 " Eva, I'm in a mess," Vick said, immediately
 
 152 Saturday Nights 
 
 broaching the painful subject. ''The Guards 
 are goin' out in the mornin'." 
 
 Eva was silent. 
 
 " If I ain't in a place to be misunderstood by 
 eve'ybody then there ain't no such place, that's 
 all." 
 
 "What if the Guards do go out? What's 
 that got to do with you?" Eva demanded. 
 
 "I'm one of 'em, ain't I?" 
 
 " You b'long to the union." 
 
 "An* I also an' moreover b'long to the 
 Guards." 
 
 "You ain't goin' out with 'em, are you, 
 Vick?' 
 
 "I got to.' ' 
 
 "You ain't!" 
 
 "How can I get outer it? That's what I 
 wanter to know." 
 
 "I don't exactly know, but if I got anything 
 to say 'bout it you ain't goin' to help the car 
 comp'ny; you ain't goin' 'gainst your own 
 folks!" 
 
 "Aw, Eva." 
 
 "Listen here, Vick." The girl's voice was 
 hard. ;< You're a workin' man an' the car men 
 are your workin' brothers. How can you have 
 the nerve to take a gun an' help beat 'em in a
 
 When Burleyton Walked 153 
 
 fight like this here, your own fight? Don't you 
 want to win the strike?" 
 
 "Sure I do," Vick insisted. "The Guards 
 ain't goin' to take sides, Eva. They're goin' to 
 protect property, to keep the rioters from 
 burnin' the barns an' things like that. The 
 union don't stand for crime. The Guard'll be 
 the law, same as policemen. Don't you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 "I understand this much. If you go out 
 with 'em imitation soldiers you go 'gainst the 
 union. Eve'ybody'll think so an' you'd just 
 as well be so." 
 
 "But I'm in the Guards, swore in," Vick 
 protested. "If I wasn't I wouldn't join 'em 
 now. But bein' as I'm in I got to stay in an' 
 obey orders." 
 
 "You ain't got to," Eva persisted. 
 
 "How can I keep outer it? I'd give a leg to 
 know. It's sure got me worried, Eva." 
 
 "All you got to do is to stay 'way from the 
 armory in the mornin'. Don't show up." 
 
 "They'd send a squad after me the first 
 thing." 
 
 "Hide, then, an' keep in hidin' till after the 
 trouble has bio wed over." 
 
 Vick's back stiffened. "I couldn't do that,
 
 154 Saturday Nights 
 
 girl. You ought to be the last one to ask me to. 
 I ain't a sneak." 
 
 "Dill says" 
 
 Wrath reddened the lad's face. "Eva," he 
 roughly interrupted, "don't drag the name of 
 that bum into our talk. That's one thing I ain't 
 goin' to stand for. We can straighten out our 
 squabbles 'thout no help from him. He's mainly 
 the cause of this here strike " 
 
 "He's proud of it!" 
 
 "An* the cause of a whole lot of the riotin*. 
 If it wasn't for him an' his friends from over in 
 Little Hell the Guards wouldn't have to get 
 into this here bus'ness a-tall." 
 
 "He hates the comp'ny an' all that b'longs 
 to it," 
 
 " I know he does. An' he hates eve'ything an* 
 eve'ybody that amounts to somethin'. An* his 
 hate is more'n liable to lose us the strike." 
 
 "Anyhow, you oughtn't to fight 'gainst your 
 own brothers, your own fellojv workers." 
 
 "I ain't," Vick promptly denied. "I'm goin' 
 to fight 'gainst the rioters. An' I know that 
 none of the car men are doin' it, 'cept Dill an* 
 maybe two-three more scums like him." 
 
 "If you had the nerve you'd be helpin' him 
 'stead of knockin' him," Eva coldly commented.
 
 When Burleyton Walked 155 
 
 " Eva, you don't b'lieve really in riotin'? If it 
 keeps up there's likely to be some killinV 
 
 "I don't care!" she snapped. "I b'lieve in 
 anything that'll beat the car comp'ny!" 
 
 "Aw," Vick muttered in his vexation, "your 
 head is is crammed full of Dill's crazy talk." 
 
 Shrewdly calculating, the girl tried new tac- 
 tics. She threw aside her repellant manner and 
 snuggled close to the lad on the couch. She had 
 appealed to the loyalty she knew he held for his 
 fellow workers and that had failed, now she tried 
 other methods. 
 
 " \Tck, you love me, don't you ? " she whispered. 
 
 "You don't have to ask me that," he gravely 
 answered, sensing something of what was coming. 
 
 "You still want me to marry you?" 
 
 " More'n anything eke." 
 
 "If you'd leave your own folks in this here 
 trouble I'd be 'shamed of you. Could I marry 
 you then?" 
 
 "But, Eva" 
 
 "Could I?" she relentlessly insisted. "Could 
 I marry you if I was 'shamed of you?" 
 
 "I reggon not if you was 'shamed of me." 
 
 ;< You know I couldn't, Vick. I couldn't even 
 think of it. Eve'vbodv we knew would be down 
 
 % 
 
 on vou."
 
 156 Saturday Nights 
 
 "Aw, Eva, if you could just see things like I 
 see 'em. I sure need your understanding girl." 
 
 "Vick," she said as if on impulse, "if you 
 stick to the union, if you stay 'way from 'em 
 soldiers, I'll marry you any time you say. I'll 
 marry you to-morrow if you'll promise." 
 
 The lad was surprised into bewilderment. 
 "You, you'd marry me to-morrow?" 
 
 "To-morrow." 
 
 "But I ain't got nothin'. We'd need more 
 money to live on than I've got." 
 
 " It don't make no diffrunce, Vick. I'm will- 
 ing to work for what I need till you get on your 
 feet." 
 
 Vick was not of iron. " Eva ! " he whispered. 
 
 He stared dumbly ahead, lids half closed, 
 motionless, and struggled with desperate fierce- 
 ness to control himself. The girl, her head 
 against his shoulder, her silken hair caressing 
 his cheek, seductively appealing, confidently 
 awaited his answer. At last he sighed his 
 renunciation and broke the silence. 
 
 "I can't," he said. 
 
 The smile that had softened her face vanished 
 and she jerked upright, her features hard. 
 
 "Can't what?" she demanded. 
 
 "Can't decide," Vick evaded wretchedly.
 
 When Burleyton Walked 157 
 
 She jumped to her feet, storming. 
 
 "You can't decide?" she taunted him. "An* 
 all your talk of love what of that? Don't you 
 want me?" 
 
 "More'n anything!" 
 
 " Then why don't you take me?" 
 
 "I want to, Eva, but there's somethin' inside 
 me, somethin' I can't explain to you, that won't 
 let me be a sneak. To run an' hide it ain't in 
 my blood! I'd be disgraced. The men of the 
 Guards I got their respect an* I want to 
 keep it." 
 
 " What do I care 'bout 'em? " she raged. " It 
 all comes down to that, me or the soldiers. 
 Whichever way you want the most; make up 
 your mind!" 
 
 "Looks like I can't," Vick muttered de- 
 jectedly. "I'm pulled this way an' that. Gawd 
 knows I want you, Eva, but it ain't in me to 
 hide, to be a sneak. I got to face this tangle. 
 I can't dodge it by runnin'. If I did, even if 
 I had you, it'd worry me the rest of my life." 
 
 "I ain't got no more to say." She was the- 
 atrically contemptuous. "I've spoke my piece. 
 If you go with the soldiers you're done with me. 
 I'll never have no more use for you." 
 
 Vick was silent.
 
 Saturday Nights 
 
 "You'd better go now," the girl continued 
 harshly. "When the soldiers come past to- 
 morrow I'll be here. I'll see 'em. An' if you're 
 with 'em . . ." 
 
 Vick rose, heavy of mind and body. 
 
 "'Nother thing. Hawley Dill's been after 
 me a long time. You ain't the only one. He 
 wants to marry me, too. Maybe he's not such 
 a pretty boy but he's a man what's loyal." 
 
 Vick winced. With no word of parting Eva 
 let him go. And well into the small hours of 
 the morning he walked the streets in an agony 
 of indecision, first swayed by his mad love for 
 Eva, then under the compelling influence of a 
 battling conscience that bade him retain his 
 self-respect.
 
 Chapter 13 
 THE DECISION OF VICK 
 
 Vick mechanically opened his locker. His face 
 was haggard, proclaiming his need of rest. His 
 thoughts were not of soldiering but of a girl in 
 a tawdry parlor. The lad absent-mindedly 
 nodded to Shad who, sturdy in his khaki, stood 
 at ease within hearing. 
 
 " So you're here, after all," Shad commented. 
 "Thought you was goin' to pass us up." 
 
 "I had to come, Shad. But 'tween Eva an' 
 this here bus'ness I'm 'bout half nutty." 
 
 " I thought she'd try an' keep you back." 
 
 " She did." 
 
 "There ain't no meddlin' girl what can tell me 
 to do this or that," Shad boastfully remarked. 
 
 "I had a bad night of it, Shad. But I de- 
 cided an' here I am." 
 
 "At the last minute," Shad pointed out. 
 
 "It's a wonder I'm here a-tall. I couldn't 
 make up my mind till the last minute, if you 
 want to know." 
 
 Decisively Vick jerked his belt a notch 
 
 159
 
 160 Saturday Nights 
 
 tighter, snapped the buckle, and turned again 
 to Shad, who grasped his rifle, ready to descend 
 to the drill room. 
 
 "Aw, I never thought 'twould come to this." 
 He viciously slapped his hat upon his head. 
 " Was a man ever in such a devil of a fix? The 
 fellows I worked with'll think I'm dead 'gainst 
 'em." The door of the locker slammed shut. 
 "They ain't goin' to understand; they ain't 
 goin' to look at both sides like me." 
 
 The last of the late arrivals ran down the 
 stairs. Below could be heard the barking 
 commands of the officers. 
 
 "Come on. We'd better get down," Shad 
 admonished. 
 
 The chums fell in with the company line and 
 Captain Gregg, with physique and bearing of a 
 commander, examined with critical eyes the 
 dressed ranks. Units of the battalion were to 
 be stationed at various strategic points of the 
 city. To the lot of B Company fell the car 
 barns, where the strike breakers were quartered. 
 
 The previous evening the railway officials had 
 once more tried to operate their cars, but with 
 no success. Again and again had they been 
 driven back to the barns. By now the city was 
 seething. Tobacco Fiats was as wildly clamor-
 
 The Decision of Vick 161 
 
 ous as Little Hell. On Main Street in the 
 factory section a car had been blocked by a 
 human barricade. The opportune arrival of a 
 fire company had transformed impending trag- 
 edy into laughing farce, when the firemen turned 
 their hose upon the mob, which broke and fled, 
 leaving the pathway clear. 
 
 Into Main Street, lined with curious spec- 
 tators, B Company wheeled. Here Shad began 
 snickering immoderately and Vick forgot his 
 for-and-against musings for the instant and 
 glanced toward the crowd. There he saw the 
 cause of Shad's mirth, a young woman of 
 mountainous proportions. Her quivering cheeks, 
 which the unusual exertion of walking had 
 changed from baby-pink to scarlet, were inflated 
 in the manner of toy balloons; she gazed with 
 withering contempt upon the passing troopers 
 who must have been, from her viewpoint, ranks 
 of grinning idiots. Pinned upon her ample 
 bosom was a tag which bore the legend : * ' WALK 
 AND HELP THE BOYS." These tags 
 were conspicuous; in fact, everyone seemed to 
 wear one. They cost nothing. 
 
 The Guards as they advanced neared Eva's 
 home. Vick was absolute in his tight-lipped 
 determination not to turn his head, but Shad's
 
 162 Saturday Nights 
 
 discreet nudge shattered his impassiveness and 
 his eyes, with no conscious bidding, flashed up 
 to a window of the parlor. Eva was there. And 
 Vick knew that she saw him. He read scorn of 
 himself in the very tilt of her pretty head. The 
 lad braced his shoulders more firmly, set his 
 jaws, and stonily stared at the sun-burned neck 
 in front of him. 
 
 Farther along, on the edge of the creek that 
 marked the boundary of Little Hell, were the 
 barns, squat, red and ugly. The company swept 
 up with a clatter of accoutrement, in their wake 
 a throng of curious idlers, many of whom had 
 trailed them across the city. A few minutes 
 after arrival several squads were detailed to 
 clear the vicinity of loiterers. The crowd melted 
 away. 
 
 Vick and Shad were in the same squad. 
 Briskly rounding a corner they advanced, bay- 
 onets fixed, upon a group of men and shawl- 
 wrapped women who stood blocking the 
 sidewalk. 
 
 "Move on," the Corporal said. 
 
 "For what?" came a snarling query. 
 
 Vick flared crimson as he recognized Dill. 
 
 "Orders are to clear the streets of loit'rers," 
 the Corporal crisply returned.
 
 The Decision of Vick 163 
 
 Standing close to Dill Vick espied Eva even 
 as she spoke. 
 
 "Vick Joyce!" 
 
 The words were laden with scorn. If the girl 
 had raised a hand and cursed him aloud she 
 could not have hurt him more. 
 
 "Aw, Eva," he said. "If you'd listen when 
 I explain " 
 
 She left Dill and stepped close to the point 
 of Vick's bayonet. Instinctively, he lowered it. 
 Her eyes snapped; she was wild with anger. 
 
 "You can't explain!" she cried, passionately. 
 "You can't explain!" 
 
 "That ain't no way to carry on," Vick 
 mumbled. 
 
 : ' You're dead right, Eva, he can't explain," 
 Dill interjected. "He's a dirty scab that's 
 why!" 
 
 At the epithet the Corporal awoke to his 
 responsibility and placed himself between the 
 two. 
 
 "Get a move on!" he ordered the turbulent 
 Dill. 
 
 Dill would not hurry. He insolently surveyed 
 the speaker, then, swaggering a step or two, he 
 grasped Eva's arm. 
 
 "Come on," he said, leering triumphantly at
 
 Saturday Mghts 
 
 Vick. "We don't want to talk to no traitor." 
 
 "Eva!" Vick called impulsively, disregarding 
 the many eyes, " I'll try to see you to-morrow." 
 
 The girl disdainfully measured him. Never 
 had Vick felt so little. 
 
 "I don't never want to see you again," she 
 said with deliberate emphasis. ; ' You're so low 
 down you hurt my eyes ! " 
 
 She went away with Dill, who laughed long 
 and loud. 
 
 Later, when the squad had returned to the 
 barns, Shad in his tactless way tried to speak 
 something of his sympathy. 
 
 "Vick, she sure handed you a dose." 
 
 "Aw, you go to blazes!" Vick growled. 
 
 The officials of the company lost little time in 
 putting their new cards into play. Just after 
 noon a car left the barns with a crew of strike 
 breakers and guard of militia. Awed by the 
 loaded rifles of the soldiers even lawless Little 
 Hell gave no trouble, save for shouted epithets. 
 The strike breakers retaliated with expansive 
 grins. Apparently the company was deter- 
 mined to give the public some sort of service, 
 though no passengers ventured to ride. 
 
 On one side of the barn the Guards were "at 
 home." In congenial groups they lounged
 
 The Decision of Vick 165 
 
 about, endeavoring to speed the dragging hours. 
 On the other side of the cavern-like structure, 
 across the line of pits, other groups were assem- 
 bled, their features not clearly discernible in the 
 gloom. They were the strike breakers. Adven- 
 turous spirits, they had temporarily deserted 
 their places in other cities in response to the lure 
 of munificent wages. Hard of face and dirty 
 they were, ready for any desperate undertaking. 
 
 The block of the buildings and grounds was 
 girded by a cordon of sentries, a line no one 
 might penetrate without a pass countersigned 
 by Captain Gregg. Vick, on a lonely post at 
 the intersection of an alley-like street, paced 
 slowly in the shade of the barns and brooded 
 over the latest altercation with Eva. 
 
 "There's the sneaky mutt!" 
 
 The speaker was so close that Vick jumped. 
 Sneering at him was Dill, accompanied by seven 
 or eight cronies out of Little Hell, who had 
 been to the fore in most of the rioting. 
 
 "Lookit the tin soldier!" 
 
 Their taunts and profanity continued till, en- 
 couraged by Vick's silence, Dill shouted: 
 
 "Come on, boys, le's go on through! He 
 ain't got nerve 'nough to shoot ! That's ' Dirty ' 
 Joyce!"
 
 166 Saturday Mghts 
 
 "Dirty Joyce! Dirty Joyce!" the gang 
 hooted. 
 
 Vick's temper rose to the breaking point. He 
 had reckoned on a scene somewhat like this and 
 had sworn to ignore his tormenters. It was his 
 honest desire to avoid personal contact with any 
 striker. He wanted to stay immersed. He did 
 not want to rise to the surface of publicity in 
 this boiling pot of trouble. 
 
 But when his enemy shouted the epithet 
 which his crowd derisively echoed, Vick's vision 
 blurred. Unreasoning, forgetting his military 
 training, he threw his rifle from him. 
 
 "Naw, I won't shoot, you yelpin' dogs!" he 
 cried hoarsely, threatening with his fists those in 
 the van. " I'll stop you with these! " 
 
 In an instant they were upon him, those of 
 the rear bravely starting the rush. With the 
 fury of a maddened animal Vick brushed aside 
 the cursing men nearest, fighting to get at Dill. 
 And in the struggle he won to him, scarcely 
 heeding the blows which showered on his head 
 and shoulders. 
 
 'You black-face' snake!" Vick snarled, and 
 his fist landed squarely against Dill's leering 
 lips with a smash that made his muscles leap in 
 exultation.
 
 The Decision of Vick 167 
 
 'You lyin' crook!" Vick went down, over- 
 powered by numbers. 
 
 For a moment the attackers milled in inde- 
 cision, then seized suddenly by panic they 
 ran, led by Dill, and vanished into the mouth 
 of the narrow street opposite. Vick's rifle went 
 with them. 
 
 The lad gained his feet, unhurt physically 
 save for a bruise or two, but sick with rage. 
 The uproar disturbed a sentry around the cor- 
 ner, who had been sleepily leaning against a 
 telegraph pole. He ran to the scene, and 
 startled by Vick's disheveled appearance, fired 
 into the air. The two young soldiers were 
 almost at once the center of a rapidly increasing 
 group. 
 
 To the questions of his Corporal, Vick dumbly 
 shook his head. He could not speak as he 
 blinked his eyes to hold back the tears of humili- 
 ation. A lane opened in the crowd at the 
 approach of Captain Gregg. 
 
 "What's wrong here?" came the query. 
 
 Vick saluted. " I was rushed, sir." 
 
 "How? Who by?" 
 
 Vick's thoughts were swift. Though he was 
 not particularly happy in keeping Dill from the 
 grasp of military law, this was a personal mat-
 
 168 Saturday Nights 
 
 ter and should be settled in a personal manner. 
 
 " I don't know, sir." 
 
 "Why didn't you stop them?" 
 
 "Didn't have time, sir. They was on me 
 before I knew it," Vick answered. He could 
 not, to save his life, have told this stern-eyed 
 man that in a surge of unreasoning anger he 
 'had thrown away his rifle. 
 
 The Captain spoke tersely. "The Guards 
 have no room for a man who loses his head in 
 a crisis. . . . Were you afraid ? " 
 
 He shot the question, eying Vick closely. 
 
 "No, sir!" The answer was emphatic. 
 
 "Where is your rifle?" 
 
 "They they took it, sir." 
 
 "Corporal!" the officer snapped. "Detail a 
 man for this post ! Place Joyce under guard ! " 
 
 Vick trudged heavily toward the barns, his 
 head low. He could feel the eyes of his fellows 
 
 Coring a hot spot in the small of his back. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Vick, morose and spiritless in his disgrace, 
 moped in his corner. Darkness came and with 
 it Shad, and the guard he relieved hastened 
 away, glad to be free of the monotonous duty. 
 A ham of a hand, heavy with the weight of 
 friendship, slapped down on Vick's shoulders,
 
 The Decision of Vick 169 
 
 awakening him into some semblance of life. 
 
 "Brace up, Vick," his chum said, cheerily. 
 "The fellows don't think you was skeered. I 
 been listenin' 'round. They got a purty good 
 idea why you didn't use your rifle." 
 
 Vick made no reply. 
 
 "Dill, wasn't it?" Shad guessed. "Why'n 
 hell didn't you let daylight through him, Vick? 
 . . . The rat orter be croaked," he added as a 
 matter-of-fact after-thought. 
 
 Vick related the details in full, bitterly cen- 
 suring himself for not retaining his temper. 
 
 "But I couldn't have shot 'em, Shad," he 
 concluded. "Not over a thing like that. I 
 couldn't shoot an' Dill knew it. He wouldn't 
 have took the least risk to hisself. An' now 
 the Cap'n thinks I'm no good; maybe he thinks 
 I'm a coward." 
 
 "Aw, I don't reggon he does," Shad con- 
 soled. "You got in bad before the whole 
 Comp'ny an' he had to take some notice of it." 
 
 "Anyhow," Vick stated positively, "I've 
 made up my mind to one thing. Before this 
 here mix-up I promised myself that I'd keep 
 out of any big doin's that might come up. In 
 this here mess I wanted to keep unnoticed as 
 much as I could. But now, now I got to prove
 
 Saturday Mghts 
 
 myself. The first big thing that comes my way 
 I'm going to take a chance at it. I got to." 
 
 :< Yep, you got to," Shad gravely agreed. 
 
 "So far, there ain't but one consolation for 
 me in the whole bus'ness," Vick continued. "I 
 bet I mashed that ugly curl all over Dill's mouth 
 before they did keel me over." 
 
 "That ought to help some," Shad grinned. 
 
 "But I ain't satisfied; they still got my rifle. 
 I been thinkin', Shad. Now listen," very earn- 
 estly, "I got to get that rifle. If I could steal 
 out of here for an hour or two I'd have it with 
 me when I got back." 
 
 'You want to get the pair of us shot or 
 somethin'?" Shad politely inquired. 
 
 " Aw, this ain't no time for kiddin'." 
 
 "Aw, 'taint no time for stealin' outer here, 
 either. You'd never make it, Vick." 
 
 "I got to get that rifle back," stubbornly. 
 
 "Tell it to the Cap'n," Shad suggested. 
 " He's square. He'll know exactly how you feel 
 'bout it. How 'bout me askin' him to come over 
 here for a talk?" 
 
 Vick considered. "You got it right, Shad, 
 for once in your life. See if you can get him 
 over here for a minute." 
 
 Shad hastened away and shortly returned
 
 The Decision of Vick 171 
 
 with Captain Gregg. The officer listened in 
 sympathetic silence. 
 
 At liberty for the night Vick hurried from 
 the barns and at once sought the lights of Main 
 Street. Not far from Gallopin' Dick's he 
 stopped for a moment in a drug store, then 
 trudged up Yarder Street to his home. 
 
 Sarah and Katie happened to be out. In the 
 kitchen Vick knelt before his cot and dragged 
 from beneath it an old soap box. Into the 
 accumulated rubbish of years he plunged and 
 at last found that which 'he had come for. 
 
 Hesba heard him when he descended the stairs 
 and she ran into the lower hall. At the grim- 
 ness of his face she stopped involuntarily, 
 startled. 
 
 "Vick!" Her brown eyes were wide. "What 
 is it? Is anything wrong?" 
 
 "Notiiin'much." 
 
 "Can't I can't we help you?" 
 
 Vick's features softened and he laughed, 
 though there was little of mirth in the ring of it. 
 
 "Hesba, can't nobody help me. I got to 
 straighten this out myself." 
 
 The girl followed the lad to the porch and 
 stared after him in dread until he swung into
 
 172 Saturday Nights 
 
 the shadows beyond the gaslight on the corner. 
 
 Vick's course was mapped in his mind. First 
 he must find Dill. With no hesitancy he headed 
 for the Wann flat. 
 
 In many a mood, gay or despondent, had the 
 lad climbed those stairs, but never before had 
 he sought admittance to Eva's parlor in such 
 a state of cold determination. 
 
 At his bid for entry the girl opened the door 
 and Vick strode into the room. Dill was there, 
 his lips swollen. 
 
 " What d'you want here?" Eva inquired. 
 
 "I didn't come to fuss with you, Eva," Vick 
 asnwered quietly. "We'll patch up our quar- 
 rel some other time, I'm hopin'. I come to talk 
 with Dill." 
 
 Eva turned to the youth on the couch. He 
 shifted uneasily, beady eyes interrogating Vick. 
 
 "He knows what I came for," Vick deliber- 
 ately continued. "The sneak an* his gang run 
 over me today an' took my rifle off with 'em. 
 I've come for it." 
 
 " I hope you got better sense than to look for 
 it here," Eva observed. 
 
 "I know it ain't here, Eva," Vick replied 
 patiently. "But Dill's here an' he knows where 
 the rifle is."
 
 The Decision of Vick 173 
 
 "What do I know 'bout your gun?" Dill 
 aggressively demanded. 
 
 "You know all 'bout it, I reggon. It went 
 with your gang." 
 
 "S'pose it did?" Dill sneered. 
 
 "I know it did. An' you're goin' to get it 
 back for me." 
 
 "Like hell I am!" 
 
 Vick stood over his enemy, his pose frankly 
 threatening. "I ain't got no time to play. 
 Where's that rifle?" 
 
 " In better hands than 'twas," Dill retorted. 
 
 "I ain't goin' to ask you but once more." 
 Vick's voice was harsh and the blood of combat 
 reddened his face. "If you don't tell me then, 
 I'm goin' to handle you rough, right here in 
 front of Eva. I can do it an' you know it. 
 . . . Where's that rifle?" 
 
 " Over in Little Hell," Dill surlily informed 
 him. 
 
 "All right, I'll take your word for it. Hop 
 along, now. We're goin' over an' get it, you 
 an' me." 
 
 "You?" Dill looked his amazement. "You're 
 goin' over into Little Hell?" 
 
 "I'm goin' where the rifle is. I'm goin' to 
 have it."
 
 174 Saturday Mghts 
 
 Dill laughed nastily, a wicked gleam in his 
 eyes. 'You ain't got the nerve!" he retorted. 
 " There's a bunch over the creek that'll eat you 
 up" 
 
 "I'll sit heavy on their stomach," Vick said 
 shortly. "Le's go!" 
 
 They passed Eva on their way out, Vick in 
 sturdy silence and Dill in evil triumph. When 
 they had passed, the girl made the slightest 
 movement to stop them, but her face hardened 
 and she restrained the impulse. 
 
 With no word the two strode across the bridge 
 that spanned the creek below the car barns, 
 nearer the river. Once, on the Little Hell side 
 as they walked through a shaft of light from 
 a shop window, Dill took pains to scan the 
 features of the man that walked beside him. 
 And in that instantaneous glance he saw some- 
 thing that caused his tongue nervously to caress 
 his lips. 
 
 'You're a fool for comin'," Dill warned. 
 
 "That's what you think." 
 
 "Must have a gun on you," sneeringly. 
 
 "Don't need one," curtly. 
 
 ;< You can't blame what happens on me. 
 You're makin* me show you where the gang 
 hangs out."
 
 The Decision of Vick 175 
 
 "lam that." 
 
 "That uniform ain't goin' to help none, if 
 that's what you're figgerin' on." 
 
 "Aw, get a move on," Vick answered dis- 
 gustedly. "All I want from you is that rifle." 
 
 At the river's edge, well into Little Hell, 
 Dill led the way into a tumble-down rookery. 
 Their weight made the worm-eaten flooring of 
 the passage creak dismal protest and Vick's 
 hand flew to Dill's collar. 
 
 "Don't you holler!" he warningly whispered. 
 "Where's the rule?" 
 
 " Second floor," Dill muttered. 
 
 "Go on up," Vick commanded, retaining his 
 hold. "I'm tellin' you again, don't holler!" 
 
 " There ain't no need." Vick knew the wicked 
 leer twisted his lips. " There's 'nough up there 
 to handle three-four like you. You're in for it 
 now, damn you!" 
 
 " You look out for Dill," Vick coldly advised. 
 
 Through an open door down the hall from the 
 landing Vick saw the streaming light of a lamp. 
 Dill, who would have lagged behind, was un- 
 ceremoniously thrust forward. Unannounced 
 they crossed the threshold. 
 
 Vick recognized the three that were inside, 
 the most notorious of Little Hell's rowdies,
 
 176 Saturday Nights 
 
 youths repulsive and dissipated of feature. Sur- 
 prised, they scrambled to their feet, leaving 
 strewn on the floor a deck of cards. Amaze- 
 ment, distrust of Iftieir sight, was dominant in 
 their demeanor, and fear fear that others in 
 that uniform were near. 
 
 "He's by hisself, fellers," Dill triumphantly 
 squealed. "He's come to get his gun!" 
 
 The eyes of one of the trio turned for an 
 instant toward a closet door on the farther side 
 of the littered fireplace, and Vick noted the 
 glance. 
 
 lf We got him now, got him good!" Dill 
 snarled in his hate. "The scab! Get to him, 
 you!" 
 
 Vick's hand darted in and out of his inside 
 pocket and was jabbed under Dill's nose, who 
 shrank abjectly, thinking the object Vick held 
 was a revolver. As he cringed the ruffian felt 
 against his face a stinging spray of liquid. He 
 gasped and immediately began to struggle for 
 breath, no longer interested in the subduing- of 
 Vick. 
 
 With oaths intended to be fear-inspiring the 
 other gangsters ran at Vick. The lad's right 
 hand flashed toward them and the two at his 
 right hand began to paw at their faces, choking.
 
 The Decision of Vick 177 
 
 The fist of the remaining rowdy thudded against 
 Vick's cheek and he tottered back to the door- 
 way. Recovering, the lad closed with the man 
 who had struck him and he, too, fell back as a 
 jet of the liquid spatted upon his forehead. 
 
 "I'm blinded!" he howled. 
 
 The room reeked with the fumes of ammonia 
 as Vick made his way unmolested through the 
 gasping quartette. They had lost all interest 
 in his movements. He reached the closet and 
 wrenched open the door as the rowdies, recover- 
 ing their breath, began to curse him in their 
 helpless anger. 
 
 It was late when Vick returned to the barns. 
 There was a man-sized bruise under his eye and 
 he was worn with the strain of his adventure, 
 but he was jubilant. He had with him his rifle.
 
 Chapter 14 
 A SATURDAY XIGHT 
 
 After supper, when pipe and cigarette were 
 being appreciated by the veterans of a day- 
 OT-SO, there sounded the blare of a bugle. With 
 hasty sprucings-up and puzzled mutterings B 
 Company fell in. Captain Gregg immediately 
 strode to the front. 
 
 " Men," he addressed them, " several cars have 
 made round trips this afternoon with little dif- 
 ficult}'. The railway officials have decided to 
 continue the trips tonight. For the initial run 
 they have asked me for five men." The Cap- 
 tain's pause was impressive. " I need not point 
 out the danger; it is obvious. I want the five to 
 be volunteers. Xow, who will go?" 
 
 Vick was ranked directly in front of the 
 officer. His heart jumped at the suggestion of 
 real danger, of this chance to disprove the Cap- 
 tain's vague insinuation of cowardice. Before 
 the last word was uttered the lad stepped for- 
 ward. At his side was Shad, the loyal. Then, 
 
 178
 
 A Saturday Nigbt 179 
 
 in almost the same instant, the entire company 
 moved forward a pace. 
 
 The features of the Captain hardened as he 
 sternly suppressed a glow of excusable pride. 
 He searched Vick's face, and the lad met the 
 challenging stare with confidence. Captain 
 Gregg stepped back to take in the line; Vick 
 knew he was to be one of the five. 
 
 The car sent out was of the open, summer 
 type. The night was still as, with its guard 
 aboard, it left the barns. The chief of the strike 
 breakers stood at the controller. The name 
 under which he submerged his identity was 
 known and hated by many organizations of 
 working men, for he had amassed a comfortable 
 fortune from the business of fighting strikes and 
 strikers all over the country. 
 
 Slowly the car rumbled through iJhe lighted 
 streets. Ploots and threats greeted the troopers 
 and once Shad instinctively dodged as a stone 
 fell into the car. He forced a grin as he ob- 
 served the grim features of Vick, who disdained 
 to glance where the missile struck. 
 
 "All right, old Vickery," Shad whispered, 
 attempting a cheerfulness he did not feel, 
 "you'll duck, too, I'm bettin', when we hit the 
 loop in Little Hell. That's where the lights
 
 180 Saturday Nights 
 
 don't shine so bright, an' there's plenty of nice 
 dark alleys." 
 
 "Aw, shut up," Vick muttered. 
 
 "All right, pal, but you duck when the 
 duckin's good or you'll grow a lump on your 
 head as big's that fellow's nose that " 
 
 While talking Shad turned for another view 
 of the strike breaker on the rear platform. He 
 had, when boarding the car, casually scanned 
 the man's rough profile, but now saw clearly his 
 full face. 
 
 "Vick! Look what's with us!" Shad ejacu- 
 lated. " The fellow on the back end ! " 
 
 Vick looked and saw Jasper Timmons. 
 
 "I might have known it," he said, disgusted. 
 "I might have known Timmons was one of the 
 strike breakers." 
 
 "Did you know he was here?" whispered 
 Shad in surprise. 
 
 "I knew he was in town. He went to the 
 house an' worried Sarah. He's got her all 
 worked up an' nervous. She thought sure he 
 was dead." 
 
 " Eve'ybody did," Shad commented. " It cer- 
 t'ny made me jump to see him back here. Is 
 he goin' back with your sister?" 
 
 "He says he is but he ain't."
 
 A Saturday Night 181 
 
 Timmons noticed the lads looking his way. 
 He must have recognized Vick. Scowling 
 blackly, he turned his back. 
 
 The car approached the loop. Situated in 
 that part of the city inhabited by the rougher 
 element, it offered an unequaled field of endeav- 
 ors for the rioters. Here and there a dim light 
 from a dingy window gleamed half-heartedly 
 into the night; the globes of the city lights had 
 proved tempting targets for missiles thrown by 
 unerring marksmen. 
 
 Into this dismal district lurched the car, the 
 motorman increasing the speed as it advanced. 
 Across his forehead spread a deep furrow as he 
 peered along the glaring beam thrown by the 
 headlight, which the car seemed striving to over- 
 take. Vick sat low, now, his wits keenly alert, 
 expecting momentarily the crash of a stone or 
 the thud of a bullet in the wood work. 
 
 From the mouth of an alley a streak of flame 
 split the darkness. This shot must have been a 
 signal, for other flashes followed and a brick 
 splintered the back of the bench within reach of 
 Vick. The car swayed madly as it slowed to 
 round a corner. The cap of the motorman 
 dropped from his head and Vick gazed with 
 fascination at a livid blue scar at the base of the
 
 182 Saturday Nights 
 
 man's skull, a memento, perhaps, of some pre- 
 vious strike riot. 
 
 One of the guards straightened suddenly, then 
 collapsed in his seat, staring with compressed 
 lips at the splotch of blood that steadily widened 
 about the tiny tear in his sleeve. Very carefully 
 he placed his rifle on the floor at his feet. An 
 incandescent light popped. It showered its 
 fragments on Vick. The mob had sprung a set 
 trap. Shad, chalky of cheeks and forehead, 
 grunted and cursed as he fired at the will-o'-the- 
 wisp flashes. 
 
 The loop was almost completed when the car 
 suddenly stopped. With an oath of fear the 
 man in front aroused Timmons into action. 
 That worthy leaped to the ground. From the 
 darkness a crowd 'began to gather. Under the 
 guns of the troopers, watchfully silent, it kept 
 its distance. 
 
 "The trolley's broke, chief!" Timmons 
 shouted. " The trolley's busted ! " 
 
 "Go to it, then!" the chief yelled, cursing 
 again. "What 're ye standin* there for? Get 
 up there ! " 
 
 Timmons cringed, daunted by the venture. 
 From some hidden place a shot was fired. The 
 man sucked hoarsely, and sagged to the pave-
 
 A Saturday Night 183 
 
 ment. In the dim light those in the car could 
 see a small hole just above his right brow. 
 Sarah would be harassed no more. 
 
 "Gawd!" Shad muttered. "Coin' to be 
 somethin' doin* now." 
 
 " We got to get outer here," Vick whispered. 
 
 The lad dropped to the ground and, agile as 
 a monkey, he gained the car roof. As his fig- 
 ure was silhouetted against the sky an uneasy 
 movement among the onlookers disturbed the 
 silence. Perhaps the very audacity of the act 
 held tense fingers inactive for a moment. The 
 trolley pole lay flat, its base spring broken. 
 Vick lifted it and thrust the wheel hard against 
 the wire overhead. 
 
 "Go 'head!" he yelled. 
 
 Slowly the car gathered headway; then, 
 faster and faster it lurched along. Behind, some 
 of the mob came to life and sent after it a scat- 
 tering fire. 
 
 Vick, holding the wheel against the wire, was 
 a fair target. A staggering blow against his 
 shoulder nearly dropped him, but he struggled 
 to keep his footing, seeing in the blurred dis- 
 tance the arc lights of the barns. There was 
 safety. 
 
 The car rolled over the bridge crossing the
 
 184 Saturday Nights 
 
 creek and the wheels shrieked at the sudden stop 
 before the barn. On the car top Vick still held 
 the pole to the wire, though each instant he 
 threatened to pitch to the ground. Shad was 
 the first to reach him. As the stricken lad col- 
 lapsed his chum caught him and lowered him 
 
 gently to the roof. 
 
 ***** 
 
 At the hospital, after his wound had been 
 dressed, Vick passed a restless night, not fully 
 regaining his senses until the coming of dawn. 
 He came gradually to a sense of himself, hear- 
 ing afar off the murmur of a voice, like thunder 
 faint in the distance. 
 
 "Did I fall?" he muttered. 
 
 "No, you're all right now," someone spoke 
 soothingly. " There is no need to talk." 
 
 A cheerful nurse leaned over him, a hand of 
 professional gentleness upon his shoulder. Im- 
 pulsively impatient, Vick tried to shift his body 
 into a more comfortable position. The effort 
 caused a stab of pain. 
 
 "What's the matter with me?" he wanted to 
 know. 
 
 His head felt large and tight; his shoulder, 
 where bandages securely swathed him, seemed 
 held in some huge vise.
 
 A Saturday Night 185 
 
 "Hospital?" he murmured, eyes roving about 
 the bare walls of the room. 
 
 "Yes," the nurse answered. "Just be quiet 
 now and rest. Let me do the talking." 
 
 "Last night they brought me here?" 
 
 "Yes, last night. Your Captain came with 
 you, and Private Fish. They haven't been gone 
 long. They stayed until they were satisfied you 
 were coming along all right." 
 
 " Good old Shad," Vick murmured. He 
 mused a moment. "An' the Cap'n came, too?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," the nurse smiled. "But you 
 needn't hint. I'm not going to tell you what he 
 said. It might enlarge your head." 
 
 Vick grinned wanly. "It feels too large as 
 'tis." 
 
 He swallowed with a grimace the medicine 
 she had been preparing and soon fell asleep. 
 
 In the early afternoon the lad felt better. 
 Indeed, he asked to be taken home. His sur- 
 roundings disturbed him. The atmosphere of the 
 hospital impressed him dismally. Strongly he 
 felt the call of the familiar little house in 
 Yarder Street. That was where he belonged; 
 that was where he would be. 
 
 The nurse entered and smoothed the covers, 
 much rumpled with Vick's squirming.
 
 186 Saturday Mghts 
 
 '* You have a caller, your girl friend." 
 
 Eva! Strangely, the knowledge of her near- 
 ness brought to Vick no rush of happiness. He 
 had no time for self-analysis. With the going 
 of the nurse the girl tripped smilingly into the 
 room, arrayed in her gaudiest. 
 
 "Vick?" she cried, and theatrically kissed 
 him. 
 
 "Well, Eva," he gravely returned. 
 
 She pulled a chair up close and taking his 
 hand began to stroke it. A sense of ownership 
 pervaded her, and Vick was somehow annoyed. 
 
 "Vick the other day on the street I 
 didn't mean what I said. 'Bout hatin' you. I 
 was so mad " 
 
 Vick squirmed, mentally and bodily. He 
 wanted to forget that five minutes. 
 
 "Aw, Eva," he said, "you wouldn't listen to 
 me, you wouldn't let yourself understand. I 
 tried to make it plain. I had to go out with 
 the Guards even if I was one of the strikers. 
 To be a striker don't mean to be a law breaker, 
 a rioter." 
 
 "I know now, Vick," the girl answered. "An' 
 I orter have known in the beginnin' that you 
 wouldn't do anything but what you was sure 
 was right."
 
 A Saturday Mght 187 
 
 "I was in a awful mess, Eva. You hurt me 
 ter'ble, goin' 'gainst me like you did. A mean 
 hole, an' I had to climb out the best way I could. 
 I had to be decent. I couldn't crawl. Ar' I 
 still b'lieve I done what a man had tc do." 
 
 She leaned over him, fragrantly close, her 
 eyes sparkling in her animation. 
 
 "Vick," she said breathlessly, "of course you 
 done right an* nothin' but. Now, to-day, you're 
 a reg'lar hero. This mornin's paper is full of 
 you an' what you done last night. It praises 
 you up to the sky, all 'bout your braveness an' 
 all. Your picture ' 
 
 Vick growled his vexation. "Where'd they 
 get a picture of me?" 
 
 "Why, I lent the reporter the one you gave 
 me, Vick," Eva archly confessed. "An' one of 
 mine, too." 
 
 Vick studied the pretty face, flushed as it was 
 with exultation, and a smile which held amused 
 derision played with the corners of his mouth. 
 
 " You ain't mad, are you, Vick?" 
 
 " I ain't got strength to get mad, Eva." 
 
 He began to comprehend, to get an inkling, 
 of the functioning of her shallow mind. She 
 rejoiced in his momentary fame. She had come 
 to him, had claimed him as her own, after flout-
 
 188 Saturday Nights 
 
 ing him in his hour of misery. Just now he was 
 necessary to her, she had coupled her name with 
 his in the publicity he would have avoided. Her 
 insatiable vanity was rejoicing in Vick's fame 
 and she had welcomed the opportunity to have 
 her picture in the paper. 
 
 Eva was about to speak when the nurse ush- 
 ered an important personage across the thresh- 
 old. The man, portly and prosperous, advanced 
 briskly and pompously to the edge of Vick's 
 bed. 
 
 "Joyce?" he inquired with condescending 
 assurance. 
 
 "Yes, sir," Vick answered, wondering who 
 the man might be. 
 
 "Joyce, ahem," the visitor began, fussily 
 wiping his glasses and setting them firmly upon 
 a dignified nose, "representing the Burleyton 
 Railway Company I have been appointed to 
 perform a task which gives me pleasure." He 
 bowed, more pompous than ever, as if address- 
 ing an audience. 'Your brave, your heroic 
 act" 
 
 "Aw," Vick interrupted, flushing. 
 
 "Ahem! The company, in view of your 
 splendid courage of last night, has authorized 
 me to call and tell you that a check of sizable
 
 A Saturday Night 189 
 
 proportions will be sent you to-morrow as a 
 practical token of its appreciation." 
 
 "How much?" Eva demanded, her eyes shin- 
 ing greedily. 
 
 "One hundred dollars." 
 
 " I don't want it," Vick said. 
 
 "You don't want it?" The gentleman was 
 incredulous. His grandiose air evaporated. 
 
 "That's what I said." 
 
 Eva spoke no word, but with her eyes the girl 
 begged Vick to accept the gift. 
 
 " I don't understand," the personage spoke. 
 
 "You can't see it like me, maybe, Mister," 
 Vick explained, a bit fretfully. "I ain't done 
 nothin' for the comp'ny, an' to be plain 'bout 
 it, I ain't goin' to. What I done was for myself, 
 nobody else." 
 
 "In that case," the visitor stiffly announced, 
 " nothing remains for me but to go." 
 
 "Suits me," Vick said indifferently, and the 
 indignant gentleman strode from the room. 
 
 "Vick!" Eva protested. "Are you crazy?" 
 
 " Not much, I ain't." 
 
 "Why didn't you take the money, then? If 
 we had that much we could be married as soon's 
 you get well. Lemme run after him. Lemme 
 call him back!"
 
 190 Saturday Nights 
 
 She started to her feet, but his eyes held her. 
 "Tain't no use. Let old money-bags go. I 
 wouldn't have a cent of their money." 
 
 More and more clearly, as he lay there, the 
 lad realized the calculating nature of the girl. 
 A definite feeling of repugnance surged through 
 him. He wished to be free of her presence; she 
 irritated him. He turned his face that she 
 might not see the revulsion he knew was in his 
 eyes. 
 
 Unannounced, Sarah came in, accompanied 
 by a scared, wide-eyed little Katie and Hesba 
 Wyatt. At their entrance Eva stiffened, her 
 bold eyes hardening as she recognized Hesba. 
 Neither spoke, but brown eyes and blue met in 
 a challenging stare, and the brown were not 
 the first to falter. Behind them was the strength 
 of womanhood unspoiled. Eva flushed as her 
 glance wavered and Hesba turned to Vick, leav- 
 ing for the returning gaze of the other girl only 
 an indifferent shoulder. Sarah leaned close to 
 kiss the lad. 
 
 "Tell her to go, Sis," Vick whispered. 
 
 Sarah required no urging. She had long dis- 
 liked Eva, but with womanly wisdom she had 
 never revealed her aversion to her brother. 
 
 " Vick wants you to go," she said coolly.
 
 A Saturday Night 191 
 
 " Me ? Vick ! " Eva exclaimed. 
 
 The lad buried his face in the pillow and 
 would not answer. Eva was of the world and 
 her emotions were not for her features. She 
 shrugged her shapely shoulders to convey to the 
 other girl that she was not one to be disturbed 
 by a mere whim, and passed out. 
 
 Sarah and Hesba drew chairs up close, and 
 Katie perched herself primly upon the bed, to 
 be as near as possible to Uncle Vick. The lad 
 talked eagerly, vividly describing the events that 
 had placed him in the hospital. 
 
 "It was awful at home this mornin', Vick," 
 Sarah commented, when he had finished. 
 " When we first heard that you were in the hos- 
 pital Mrs. Cooper carried on ter'ble an' " 
 
 "Hesba cried," Katie positively interjected. 
 
 "All of us cried," Hesba hastened to explain. 
 Apparently, Vick did not see the flush which 
 the child's remark had brought to her cheeks. 
 
 " Eve'ybody had a good time, I reggon," the 
 lad grinned. "A regular old cryin' bee." 
 
 Sarah could laugh now; Hesba, too. 
 
 "We thought sure you were dying," the girl 
 confessed. "At first we cried for sorrow and 
 then we cried for gladness. We came to you 
 as soon as they'd let us."
 
 192 Saturday Nights 
 
 "I'm cert'ny glad you got here when you 
 did," Vick answered, his words for both, but his 
 gaze was for Hesba alone. " She was gettin* on 
 my nerves." 
 
 "What about us?" Hesba spiritedly retorted. 
 "Maybe we've made you talk too much and 
 you'll get nervous again." 
 
 "No danger," Vick warmly protested. Sarah 
 smiled, noting that she and Katie were to all 
 intents non-existent. "You, you don't jar 
 'gainst a fellow, somehow. You're easy-like 
 an' an* restful." 
 
 Hesba saw Sarah scanning her face and in 
 the sister's eyes was a surprised interest. The 
 girl blushed. Then Vick, sensitive to Sarah's 
 new alertness, talked to the two of them. Sarah 
 listened with no change of countenance as the 
 lad told of Timmons' death. She was not a hypo- 
 crite. She owed the man no pretense of mourn- 
 ing and she did not mourn. She was glad for 
 Katie's sake, and her own, to be free of him.
 
 Chapter 15 
 VICE'S NEW VIEWPOINT 
 
 At home, immured in his all but forgotten 
 books, the tattered, dog-eared cronies of more 
 youthful days, Vick lounged and read away the 
 long days of convalescence. 
 
 Since the morning they had transferred him 
 from the hospital Vick had not ventured upon 
 the street. But to-day the lad wearied of the 
 limitations of the two-roomed flat. A change 
 of surroundings, a breath of outdoors, became 
 indispensable to his contentment of mind. For 
 once his books bored him. 
 
 The lad found his cap and coat and cau- 
 tiously, like a child, negotiated the difficult de- 
 scent to the hall below. There he came upon 
 Mrs. Cooper and Katie. 
 
 "Look at the boy, now," the old woman 
 exclaimed, apparently for the sole benefit of the 
 child. " Goin' out, an* him as weak as a day-old 
 kitten!" 
 
 "Aw, I'm 'most well now, Mrs. Cooper." 
 
 193
 
 194 Saturday Nights 
 
 "I ain't the one to try an' keep you in, my 
 young man," Mrs. Cooper remarked, with 
 kindly sarcasm. " If you've made up your mind 
 to go, you'll go in spite of what an old woman 
 might say." 
 
 Vick smiled. 
 
 "But wait," she continued, reaching toward 
 the dilapidated hall rack. " Take this with you, 
 anyhow. 'Nother leg ain't goin' to hurt you. 
 You ain't got your strength yet, Vick." 
 
 The lad would not have the cane. Feeble as 
 he was, he would not take the risk of being 
 thought effeminate. In the warm sun of the 
 late afternoon he slowly traversed the half-dozen 
 blocks that stretched between the house in 
 Yarder Street and Gallopin' Dick's. 
 
 A faint flush coloring his wan cheeks, Vick 
 entered the saloon. But for Gallopin' behind 
 the bar, the place was empty. The bumping of 
 the swinging doors drew the man's attention 
 from his task of the moment. 
 
 "Who let you out?" he all but yelled. 
 " Why'd you crawl 'way down here, hey? Ain't 
 you got no sense a-tall, you simp? You're a 
 weak sister; you look like you got both feet in 
 the grave!" 
 
 Vick just stood and looked, his eyes scanning
 
 Vick's New Viewpoint 195 
 
 in turn each familiar object. The bawling voice 
 of Gallopin' was nothing less than music. 
 
 :< You ought to stay home. You ain't got the 
 strength of a crippled flea," Gallopin' growled. 
 
 Despite his ungracious welcome he hobbled 
 from behind the bar and assisted Vick to a table. 
 
 "Aw, Gallopin'," Vick drawled, seating him- 
 self. " I ain't dead yet, not by a long sight." 
 
 "You will be, an' blasted quick, if you don't 
 take better care of yourself," Gallopin' darkly 
 prophesied, and abruptly took himself off to 
 serve a customer. 
 
 When time for supper ticked around Vick 
 felt no particular hunger and he did not go 
 home. A sandwich sufficed him. An hour or so 
 after, Shad sauntered in. 
 
 "So you're out, hey?" Shad greeted. "How 
 they runnin', Vick?" 
 
 "Slow, Shad, slow," Vick answered dispirit- 
 edly. " I got to go to work, an' soon." 
 
 " Aw, you ain't well 'nough." 
 
 "I soon will be an' I ain't got no job. It's 
 got me all blue." 
 
 "What good is worryin'? I wouldn't worry." 
 
 "You, what d'you know about worry?" Vick 
 sarcastically demanded. "You ain't got sense 
 'nough to worry. Listen here. All the time I
 
 196 Saturday Nights 
 
 been home my sister's been takiri' keer of me, 
 an' her workin' in a cigarette f act'ry. It's tough 
 on her, Shad." 
 
 Shad complacently lighted a cigarette. :< You 
 can't help it." 
 
 "Naw, an' I can't help from worryin'. 
 either." 
 
 " You can go back on the cars." 
 
 "I can, but I ain't," Vick decisively an- 
 nounced. 
 
 Shad lapsed into thought. ; "Em fellows 
 played hell, didn't they?" he commented. 
 "Just's well say they lost the strike. Eve'y- 
 thing they got in the end they could have got 
 by not strikin'." 
 
 "Sure," Vick agreed. "The comp'ny was 
 willin' to come 'cross with a raise, just's much, 
 I reggon, as they got. 'Twas like I always said. 
 The men let Dill an' two-three more wild-heads 
 like him run 'way with 'em. What 'em crooks 
 wanted would have busted the comp'ny wide 
 open." 
 
 : ' You had it right all the time." 
 
 "They wouldn't listen to me. I kept my 
 head an' talked sense. But they wanted ex- 
 citement, an' they got it, if nothin' else besides. 
 Dill an' his gang messed the w r hole works up."
 
 Vick's New Viewpoint 197 
 
 "That reminds me," Shad remarked, tact- 
 lessly. " When you said Dill's name it made me 
 think of Eva Warm. I got a message for you." 
 
 "'Nother one?" Vick asked, scarcely 
 interested. 
 
 " Yep ; she tells me somethin' to tell you 'most 
 eve'y day. She said to tell you she wants to 
 see you bad. If you can't get down to her 
 house she'll meet you on some corner 'most any 
 night, she says. She acks like she's crazy to 
 have a talk with you." 
 
 Vick grunted. 
 
 "Sure is a turn 'round, ain't it?" Shad con- 
 tinued. "You used to rush her hard, but now 
 she's rushin' you, 'pears like to me." 
 
 "I don't want to see her, Shad," Vick said. 
 " I'm done with her. You tell her I said so." 
 
 "Who? Me? Not me!" Shad ejaculated. 
 That youth knew and respected the lashing qual- 
 ity of the girl's tongue. 
 
 Vick smiled at Shad's emphatic refusal. He 
 was certainly correct in his surmise. In the 
 game they now played, the game Vick wished 
 at an end, the girl was the seeker. Numerous 
 messages had Shad delivered while Vick was 
 shut in, messages that at first threatened sever- 
 ance of their acquaintanceship, then those that
 
 198 Saturday Nights 
 
 begged for reconciliation on any terms. Vick 
 had ignored all of them. 
 
 Yet in spite of his resolve to keep his future 
 free of her, to put her entirely from his life, 
 yearning for her persisted. Within his being 
 love of Eva was imbedded deeply. The uproot- 
 ing was being accomplished slowly and pain- 
 fully. At times, even now, he had to fight the 
 attraction of her, the call of her physical charm. 
 But that Sunday in the hospital there had been 
 vouchsafed him a rational period, when he dis- 
 cerned the inherent selfishness of the girl. With 
 sickening realization had come an aversion which 
 
 grew stronger and stronger as the days wore on. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Vick spent the morning in content, having for 
 recreation a book from the shop of the negro 
 cobbler, but after dinner he found the story no 
 longer held him. A feeling of -dissatisfaction 
 possessed him, an indefinable rebellion against 
 things as they were that urged him out-o'-doors. 
 For a time he resisted the feeling, but it got 
 the better of him. He cast the book aside and 
 went to the door. 
 
 Yarder Street stretched peaceful in the con- 
 genial warmth of the Sabbath sun. Vick, unset- 
 tled of mind, stood upon the front porch, glanc-
 
 Vick's New Viewpoint 199 
 
 ing up and down the cobbled thoroughfare. 
 There was no place he particularly cared to go. 
 
 He dropped to the top step and sat there, 
 staring moodily at the ground. Footsteps 
 creaked the boards behind him, and looking up, 
 he saw Hesba and Katie, dressed for the street. 
 
 "Oh, Uncle Vick," Katie greeted, "we's 
 goin' walkin'." 
 
 "That's nice, baby," Vick answered, mobiliz- 
 ing a smile. 
 
 Hesba spoke as she passed and her brown 
 eyes softened as they searched the troubled 
 countenance of the lad. Vick watched her down 
 the pavement, his gaze never straying from her. 
 At the corner the girl glanced back, hesitated, 
 and then stopped. A few words to Katie and 
 the child came back as quickly as her chubby 
 legs allowed. She grasped Vick's hand. 
 
 "Uncle Vick, come an' go walkin' with us, 
 me an* Hesba." 
 
 The lad gave the child no attention. His 
 mind and his eyes were for the girl, who saun- 
 tered slowly on. 
 
 " Come on an* go walkin'," Katie imperiously 
 repeated, tugging. "You got to!" 
 
 Vick still gazed with hungry eyes. 
 
 "Aw, now, Katie. Hesba don't want me."
 
 200 Saturday Mghts 
 
 "She do, she do. Hesba said to make you 
 come!" urged the child. 
 
 So Vick went walking with Katie and Hesba. 
 
 That night on his cot the lad's last sleepy 
 thoughts were of a girl with hair and eyes of 
 demure brown, with features of no especial 
 beauty, yet attractive of Hesba Wyatt.
 
 Chapter 16 
 ANOTHER SATURDAY NIGHT 
 
 Saturday night in the back room of Gallopin' 
 Dick's saloon. A pool table, warped by extreme 
 age, occupied the center of the floor, its vari- 
 colored balls of imitation ivory huddled in a 
 corner where some disgruntled player had left 
 them. At the moment several boisterous 
 patrons were clustered at one end of the room 
 rolling dice for drinks. Grouped about several 
 tables were men playing cards. 
 
 At one table Vick sat with three companions. 
 His cap was twisted at an aggressive angle, 
 his coat hung limply from the back of his chair, 
 his face was flushed. He was drunk. 
 
 In the early afternoon Vick and Shad had 
 as usual foregathered in Gallopin's. Shad, who 
 h<id had a drink or two, was expansively genial. 
 He had that noon been the recipient of an 
 increase in pay and he was fired with the desire 
 to celebrate. There was but one way. Blithely, 
 he suggested that they go on a "tear." Vick, 
 
 201
 
 202 Saturday Nights 
 
 in the depths of despondency, was ready for 
 anything short of suicide to rid himself of the 
 memory of a luckless week of job hunting. 
 
 Shad, ever a spendthrift, was generous with 
 his money. In spite of Vick's protests he 
 insisted upon a division of wealth and finally 
 prevailed upon his chum to share his luck. It 
 was to be spent, he argued, and it made little 
 difference which of them shoved it over the bar. 
 
 Through the late afternoon and early even- 
 ing they had stuck together, wandering in aim- 
 less fashion from saloon to saloon, slighting few 
 that happened in their path. Shad had fallen 
 by the wayside somewhere where, Vick did 
 not know. Missing his chum, he had turned 
 toward their starting point, Gallopin's. 
 
 What money Vick had left lay uneasy in his 
 pocket and on reaching Gallopin's, he hurried 
 into the back room in search of a vacant chair 
 and a card table. He had found one and there 
 he had remained. 
 
 Now, with a growl of disgust, the lad threw 
 his cards from him. The gambler sitting oppo- 
 site cackled his mirth and appropriated the 
 stakes. 
 
 " Thought you had me that time," he ingrati- 
 atingly commented.
 
 Another Saturday Mght 203 
 
 "If I had your luck," Vick retorted sourly, 
 "I'd never work another lick." 
 
 " I am kinder lucky," the other admitted. He 
 cast a sly glance of amusement at the grinning 
 pair who made up the game and they answered 
 with fleeting grimaces. 
 
 Vick was fast losing the little self-control he 
 had retained, and the gambler decided to waste 
 no more time on the unsuspecting victim. The 
 next deal the lad picked up a hand he thought 
 could not be beaten but it was, and he lost his 
 last penny on the play. 
 
 He stared stupidly at the better hand. " I'm 
 done. I'm broke." 
 
 As he left the table, coat slung under an 
 arm, he found his uncertain progress barred by 
 a stranger who leaned against the pool table. 
 This fellow, too, was a bit unsteady, but if ever 
 clothing spelled ready money his did. 
 
 "Hard luck," he remarked genially. 
 
 "What's it to you?" Vick inquired. 
 
 "Nothing at all," the stranger answered, and 
 smiled. "What's the use of getting nettled? 
 To prove there's no hard feelings let's you and 
 me have a little drink." 
 
 Vick was willing. He felt the need. To- 
 gether they leaned against the bar, and the lad
 
 204 Saturday Nights 
 
 gave Gallopin' scowl for scowl as lie curtly 
 ordered whisky. 
 
 "Is this your hang-out?" the stranger 
 inquired. 
 
 "Uh-huh." 
 
 "I don't reside in this part of the town and 
 it's all strange to me. How about you and me 
 knocking about a bit?" 
 
 "I'm broke." 
 
 " Consider yourself heeled, then." A fat roll 
 of bills was displayed. "I've got the legal ten- 
 der and I'm looking for a friend to help me 
 blow it. I'm on a toot, but there's no fun toot- 
 ing all by your lonesome. Every now and then 
 I break away from the ties that bind and get lit 
 up like a street lamp. It is a habit. Ever feel 
 that way?" 
 
 "Eve'y Sattiday, at least," Vick said. 
 
 "Every Saturday?" 
 
 " Sattiday's payday," Vick explained. 
 
 The stranger gravely nodded. "I under- 
 stand, I think. If you have the inclination on 
 other nights, you lack the wherewithal. What 
 do you say? Are you game for a night of it 
 with me?" 
 
 "Game's my middle name," Vick boasted. 
 "First we'll go hunt for Shad."
 
 Another Saturday Night 205 
 
 "Who is he of the fishy name, may I ask?" 
 
 "You may ask. Shad's my pal, friend, an' 
 there ain't no better in this man's town. We 
 started out together to-day an' he got knocked 
 out somewhere down the line." 
 
 "Down the line? That sounds interesting." 
 
 Another drink, and the two shouldered a path 
 to the swinging doors. Vick was in the rear. 
 An impulse bade him give a backward glance 
 and he caught Gallopin's gaze intent upon him. 
 Vick swore and passed out. Gallopin', with his 
 perpetual watchfulness, was getting on his 
 nerves. 
 
 The seekers of pleasure traveled the length 
 of Tobacco Flats. They inquired for the elusive 
 Shad and had a drink in every saloon they 
 encountered in their random ranging. 
 
 They never found Shad. The last thing Vick 
 recalled was his new friend atop a barrel, gustily 
 singing, and he could sing, at the hilarious urge 
 of the hangers-on in a bar in lower Main Street. 
 
 The stranger was a stellar attraction. At the 
 finish of each song he leaned forward in an 
 attitude of comical expectancy. If the applause 
 warranted, to his mind, he would buy a drink 
 for the crowd and sing another song. The 
 ballads were many, the homage was vociferous.
 
 206 Saturday Nights 
 
 When Vick came to a realization of himself 
 the sun of Sunday morning was in his face. 
 He found himself, alone, lying on a plot of grass 
 in the familiar alley back of Gallopin' Dick's 
 saloon. Of his comrade in dissipation there was 
 no trace. 
 
 The lad sat up and the act made him wish he 
 had not moved made him wish he might never 
 move again. A triphammer inside his skull 
 began to hit throbbing blows at regular, and 
 frequent, intervals. Vick groaned aloud and 
 with feverish palms tried to allay the ache. 
 
 Incident by incident he painfully recalled the 
 events of the unrestrained hours of Saturday 
 night until the memory of the barroom min- 
 strelsy of his companion came to mind. What 
 had happened after that Vick could not remem- 
 ber. Evidently he had staggered into the yard 
 and gone to sleep. 
 
 The lad struggled to his feet. He could not 
 find his cap. He staggered from the mouth of 
 the alley thence on up Yarder Street. He was 
 going home. In Tobacco Flats, during the first 
 daylight hour of Sunday, the thoroughfares are 
 far from populous and Vick met no one. The 
 early sun hurt his eyes as he approached the 
 house and stole up on the porch. The front
 
 Another Saturday Night 207 
 
 door was unlocked and he grunted his satisfac- 
 tion that it was unnecessary to arouse anyone 
 inside. He had, of course, to reckon with Sarah. 
 She would scold bitterly. That he would have 
 to endure. But there was one who would survey 
 him with eyes of accusing scorn, withering scorn 
 he could not face. Emphatically, he did not 
 want to meet Hesba Wyatt. 
 
 Sarah did scold. She let Vick know she was 
 ashamed of him, that he was far along the dis- 
 sipated path of Jasper Timmons, and freely 
 voiced lashing phrases of like nature in hei> 
 resentment of his behavior. 
 
 When the lad would have thrown himself on 
 his cot she would not let him. He sat, a picture 
 of misery, fully as ill as he looked, while Sarah 
 awakened Katie and prepared for the brother 
 a place in the front room. She had work to do 
 in the kitchen, she said, and did not want him in 
 her sight. 
 
 It seemed to Vick that he had scarcely won 
 the sleep he wooed when Sarah aroused him. 
 He eyed her stupidly. 
 
 " There's men comin' up to see you, Vick." 
 
 "Who's it?" Vick mumbled. 
 
 " Mr. Jessup an' another man." 
 
 The jumping ache of Vick's head did not
 
 208 Saturday Nights 
 
 keep him from wondering at a visit from 
 Gallopin' Dick. 
 
 "What time is it?" he demanded. 
 
 "After 'leven most twelve." 
 
 "Tell Gallopin' an' whoever the other one is 
 to come up," said Vick sourly. 
 
 He slipped on trousers and shirt and was 
 sitting on the edge of the bed when Gallopin' 
 hobbled in, followed by Dugg, the policeman. 
 Dugg was not in uniform. 
 
 Since the night of the raid on the lumber yard 
 gang, when the officer had captured, and then 
 released, Vick and Shad, the lads had come to 
 know a sort of affection for Dugg, who in- 
 clined to the belief that youth should be handled 
 with tolerance. And it was not at all surprising 
 to see him with Gallopin' Dick, whose saloon 
 was on his beat. The two were cronies of long 
 standing. 
 
 As the men came in from the hall Vick eyed 
 them inquiringly, not troubling himself to rise. 
 There were no greetings. With the antagonistic 
 air of one who has no time to waste on a 
 distasteful task Gallopin' planted himself in 
 front of the lad. He jerked from a pocket a 
 cap. 
 
 "Ain't this here yours?" he demanded.
 
 Another Saturday Night 209 
 
 " Sure, it's my cap," Vick replied. 
 
 Dugg saw to it that the doors were closed 
 while Gallopin', a scowl Barkening his face, pro- 
 duced a soiled handkerchief and displayed for 
 the benefit of Vick an initial V. 
 
 "How 'bout this here?" he demanded. 
 
 "Mine, too," Vick answered, mystified. It 
 was one of a half-dozen given him his last 
 birthday by Sarah. 
 
 The man towered over the lad, his under jaw 
 outthrust, his attitude domineering. His eyes, 
 under their lowering brows, were as hard as 
 flint. 
 
 "Listen, Joyce!" Vick stiffened at the men- 
 ace in the voice. "Last night I was robbed!" 
 
 "Robbed? How?" Vick was incredulous, 
 bewildered. 
 
 "How?" The man's laugh was bitter. "You 
 ask me? Listen, you! When I closed up at 
 midnight I left 'bout three hundred 'n fifty 
 dollars in my safe. A while ago, like I always 
 do on Sunday mornin's, I come down to the 
 place to straighten things up. An* I found the 
 safe busted ! " 
 
 "Busted?" Vick echoed. 
 
 "An' the three-fifty gone!" 
 
 It came to Vick, then, like a blow, that tEe
 
 210 Saturday Nights 
 
 visit of Gallopin' and the one-time good-natured 
 policeman meant that somehow they thought him 
 involved; thought he at least knew something 
 of the robbery. The realization stung him and 
 with an angry gesture he jumped to his feet. 
 
 "What's all that got to do with me, Gal- 
 lopin'?" he indignantly inquired. "What did 
 you an' Dugg come to me for?" 
 
 "You know why, blast you!" Gallopin' swore. 
 "Behind the bar, right in front of the safe, I 
 found this here cap an' nose piece. You say 
 yourself that they're yours an' I know it. Don't 
 that mean nothin' to you, Joyce?" 
 
 "Not a damn thing!" Vick defiantly retorted. 
 
 "It does to me an' Dugg, an' it will to a 
 judge an' jury." Gallopin' was vindictively 
 cold. 
 
 Vick's anger burned in his cheeks but by an 
 effort he kept control of his tongue. 
 
 "Gallopin'," he said, slowly and earnestly, 
 " le's get this here bus'ness straight. You mean 
 to say I robbed you? " 
 
 "I mean to say you helped rob me, at the 
 least!" Gallopin' retorted. "You an' that flashy 
 yegg got my money. Where's he at?" 
 
 "The fellow I was knockin' 'round with last 
 night?"
 
 Another Saturday Night 211 
 
 "Yes that yegg." 
 
 "I don't know where he's at," Vick said, a 
 bit surlily. "An* what's more, I don't keer. I 
 don't even know his name." 
 
 Gallopin' turned to the stolid officer. 
 
 " Just to think, Dugg," he said, " after all my 
 interest in Joyce, tryin' to make him ack like a 
 man, he goes an' does me dirt like this. I used 
 to think there was somethin' in him, that he was 
 better than most of the fact'ry lads. But he's 
 proved to me he ain't no good whatever. They 
 are boozers, but so is he, an' they don't steal!" 
 
 "Aw, Gallopin'," Vick said, appealingly, 
 "you don't really mean to say I robbed you?" 
 
 "I don't?" Anger again flared viciously in 
 the man. "I cert'ny do mean just that, an* 
 what's more to the p'int, I'm goin' to prosecute 
 you. The other thief's got away, I reggon, but 
 I got you!" 
 
 "Good God, Gallopin'!" Vick gasped in 
 agony. "This is ter'ble. You ain't got no 
 proof!" 
 
 "What 'bout the cap an' handkerchief?" 
 
 Vick's strength left him. He swayed, beads 
 of sweat gathered on his forehead. He found 
 his seat again and hid his face in his palms. 
 
 For the first time Dugg spoke.
 
 212 Saturday Nights 
 
 "Look here, Joyce," he said gruffly. "If 
 you ain't guilty, prove you ain't." 
 
 Aroused by hope Vick lifted his head. 
 "How?" blankly. 
 
 "How the devil do I know?" Dugg returned. 
 "I ain't no Sherlock, I'm a cop. But if you 
 wasn't in Gallopin's this mornin' when the safe 
 was opened you must have been somewheres 
 else. Where was you?" 
 
 Vick thought, thought hard. "When did it 
 happen?" 
 
 "Some time past midnight." 
 
 A shrug of his shoulders and Vick stood 
 again, helplessness in each line of his face. 
 
 "Gallopin'," he spoke, "I got to tell you. I 
 can't remember where I was past midnight last 
 night. That's the God's truth. I was drunk, so 
 drunk I don't remember nothin'. When I left 
 your place with that fellow we roamed all over 
 Main Street. The last I do remember we was 
 in a barroom down by the creek, the whole 
 crowd singing. The next thing I knew I woke 
 up in the alley back of your place." 
 
 "Can't you remember nothin' else?" Dugg 
 ponderously inquired. 
 
 "Not a thing. 'Em hours is a blank to me. 
 'Tween that time I can't remember where I was
 
 Another Saturday Night 213 
 
 or what I done. I might have gone into Gal- 
 lopin's, but if I did I didn't know what I was 
 doin'. That's the truth, an' nothin' but!" 
 
 The saloon man grunted. 
 
 "Seems to me, GaUopin'," Dugg thought- 
 fully remarked, "if Joyce helped the yegg pull 
 off the job he would have got somethin' outer 
 it; his share of the swag." 
 
 "Sure!" Vick eagerly interjected. "That 
 proves it. I ain't got a cent." 
 
 "We don't know that," GaUopin' remarked. 
 "Search him, Dugg. Search the place an' his 
 clothes." 
 
 Vick stood while the officer clumsily searched 
 his trousers pocket. Dugg had begun the task 
 of searching the bed and its covers when Gal- 
 lopin' espied Vick's coat lying across a trunk. 
 
 "Look into the coat," he growled. 
 
 The outside pockets yielded nothing of inter- 
 est. Dugg's thick fingers slipped into an inside 
 pocket. He grunted. 
 
 "Here 'tis," he said, and drew forth a roll of 
 bills. 
 
 GaUopin' hobbled closer. 
 
 " Fifty dollars," he counted. " Blast you, that 
 settles it. You can't lie outer it now!" 
 
 Vick was aghast, "Gallopin\ I swear," he
 
 214 Saturday Nights 
 
 faltered. "I swear I didn't know the money 
 was there!" 
 
 "Aw, tell it to the judge," Gallopin' brutally 
 advised. 
 
 " You own up, now, don't you? " Dugg asked. 
 "There ain't no way you can get outer it. 
 You're in a tight hole, to my way of thinkin'." 
 
 "Makes no diffrunce whether he owns up or 
 not," Gallopin' said. " He's headed for the pen 
 right now." 
 
 Vick saw no hope. The finding of the money 
 broke his spirit. He raged at his gay acquaint- 
 ance of Saturday night. Now, the lad was 
 convinced that he had in drunken recklessness 
 helped rob Gallopin' Dick. More than once 
 Vick had imagined himself in the depth of 
 misery but now, in this black moment, he knew 
 stark despair. Dry-eyed, he stared at Gallopin' 
 Dick. 
 
 " We know 'nough," the man rasped. " Serve 
 the warrant, Dugg." 
 
 "Warrant?" Vick gasped. 
 
 His imagination pictured what would follow. 
 He saw himself led, a criminal, past the frank- 
 eyed Hesba. He thought of her first, somehow, 
 then of Sarah. 
 
 "Man! Gallopin' !" he cried, desperate. "Ain't 
 you got a heart ? Gimme a chance ! "
 
 Another Saturday Mght 215 
 
 Gallopin' turned from him. Dugg reached 
 into a pocket and Vick watched with startled 
 eyes for the warrant that would make him a 
 prisoner. But Dugg's hand reappeared empty. 
 The big policeman hesitated and cleared his 
 throat. 
 
 "Look here, Gallopin'," he suggested, "can't 
 you give Joyce a chance, like he asks for? It's 
 his first job, you know. An' if the pen gets him 
 for a year or two that'll be the last of him 
 an ~~~" 
 
 "What do I keer?" Gallopin' was savage. 
 
 Dugg persisted, brushing aside as inconse- 
 quential the interruption. Vick hung on his 
 words. 
 
 "Prison ain't goin' to get your money back. 
 You know it an' I know it. Give Joyce a 
 chance, is my advice, an' let him pay back the 
 money little by little." 
 
 "Pay back! "Gallopin' snorted. "Hell! He 
 ain't got a job!" 
 
 "Aw, he can get one," Dugg assured him. 
 "Would you be willin' to pay the money back, 
 Joyce, all of it, even what the yegg got 'way 
 with?" 
 
 "Would I?" Vick began to live again. "I'd 
 be willin' to pay back twice as much. I'd be
 
 216 Saturday Nights 
 
 willin* to do anything to get outer this here 
 trouble. My word of honor, I would!" 
 
 "Your word of honor ain't worth a row of 
 bent pins!" said Gallopin' scornfully. 
 
 " He'd pay, I reggon," Dugg commented, 
 "knowin' he's got a standin' invite to the pen if 
 he don't." 
 
 "I'll pay I promise." 
 
 Dugg drew Gallopin' into a corner and there 
 the two whispered while Vick waited in agonized 
 suspense. At Dugg's plea Gallopin' apparently 
 gave up his desire for vengeance. 
 
 "All right," he said, turning to Vick, "you 
 get your chance. But you got to pay me, an' 
 you got to pay me six per cent on the money. 
 You got to get a job an' pay me a part of your 
 wages each an' eve'y Sattiday. An' if you miss 
 once . . ." 
 
 Dugg assumed command. "Le's see. They 
 pinched three hundred an' fifty an' you got the 
 fifty back from Joyce. That leaves three 
 hundred. What can you make in a week, 
 Joyce?" 
 
 "Any kind of a man can make fifteen dol- 
 lars," Gallopin' broke in. "I don't want my 
 money back a dollar at a time, either." 
 
 "All right. Say he makes fifteen a week. If
 
 Another Saturday Night 217 
 
 he means well he ought to be willlin' to pay you 
 half of what he makes, say eight a week. Is 
 that 'nough, Gallopin'?" 
 
 " It'll be 'most a year before I get my money 
 back." 
 
 "Aw, he's goin' to pay you int'rest," Dugg 
 reminded, a note of kindness in his voice. " He 
 can't pay no more. He's got to live." 
 
 " That's all he orter have, just 'nough to live 
 on, an* none to throw 'way on booze." 
 
 "You hear, Joyce?" Dugg turned to Vick. 
 "What d'you say? You can take it or leave it." 
 
 " I take it," Vick answered. " I'll pay. You 
 can b'lieve me or not but when the robbery was 
 done I wasn't responsible for any act of mine. 
 But I ain't kickin', I'll take my med'cine, even 
 if 'tis bitter as hell. But I wanter to say one 
 thing this last half a hour has learned me 
 somethin' somethin' I ain't ever goin' to 
 forget." 
 
 "Le's hope so," Gallopin' growled. 
 
 The men clumped down the stairs and Vick 
 was alone. With no word to Sarah of his 
 trouble he shaved and dressed, and left the 
 house. At the corner of Main Street he boarded 
 a car and rode out to the end of the line, where 
 he walked into the woods.
 
 218 Saturday Nights 
 
 Darkness had come when Vick returned to 
 Yarder Street. In the solitude beyond the city 
 he had fought his fight. Of pride stubborn 
 and reckless of consequence he had none. Of 
 humility honest and clean he had his share. 
 
 To-morrow, in the morning, he would go down 
 to Dearborn's, seek Dad Updike, and ask, beg if 
 need be, for his old job. He would apologize 
 humbly for striking the old fellow. If Dad 
 would have none of him, it could hot be helped. 
 He would not be dismayed. For him some- 
 where there was a man's job and he would find 
 it. He had to. And life for him from now on 
 should be something more than Saturday nights.
 
 The early sun of Monday morning shone 
 down on a forlorn Vick. Near the entrance of 
 Dearborn's he loitered, a 'heel against the wall, 
 where Shad had left him just before the factory 
 whistle shriekingly proclaimed the hour of seven. 
 That had been quite a while before and not yet 
 had Vick mustered the courage to face Dad 
 Updike. 
 
 A car rumbled past. Up at the corner it 
 stopped and Vick's roving gaze noted the owner 
 of Dearborn's as he stepped to the cobbles. As 
 dignified as ever the old man strutted to the 
 pavement and headed for the office door. As he 
 neared Vick he scanned the face of the lad ; then, 
 recognition coming, he stopped. 
 
 "Bo-oy!" he roared, and parting his beard he 
 spat into the gutter. "Boy! Where have you 
 been?" 
 
 The boom of old Dearborn's voice was har- 
 mony to Vick. To be noticed, to be spoken to, 
 
 219
 
 220 Saturday Nights 
 
 by that important personage was cause for hope. 
 
 "ISTowheres, sir," Vick answered. "Just been 
 knockin' 'round." 
 
 "What are you doing standing out here?" 
 
 "Nothin*, sir." 
 
 "Nothing? Boy, are you working?" 
 
 " Naw, sir. Not right now." 
 
 "Not right now!" Sarcasm, gentle enough, 
 came from the bearded lips. "Well, why don't 
 you go to work?" 
 
 "I ain't got no job," Vick informed him. 
 
 "You get into the factory, now, and get to 
 work." 
 
 "Yes, sir," eagerly. "Who must I report 
 to?" 
 
 "Who? Updike, of course!" The old fel- 
 low bellowed his astonishment at Vick's palpable 
 ignorance. 
 
 "Dad Mr. Updike will he do you reg- 
 gon he'll take me back, sir?" 
 
 "Of course, of course. He's had a dozen 
 assistants, I reckon, since you ran off. He's 
 hard to suit, it seems. He discharged them all." 
 
 'Yes, sir," Vick said cheerfully. 
 
 " I'm certain Updike has missed you," the big 
 boss continued. " He mopes around like an old 
 hen with a lost chick."
 
 Back at Dearborn's 221 
 
 "I'm cert'ny obliged, Mr. Dearborn," Vick 
 declared earnestly. "I'm goin' right in." 
 
 The lad watched him walk away. At the 
 office door the old gentleman wheeled with 
 soldierly precision and passed through, aggres- 
 sively vigorous, his shoulders squared. 
 
 In the factory, Vick stood a moment on the 
 floor of the hive-like press room, returning to 
 the dusky workmen nod for nod, smile for smile. 
 In the tiny office he stepped up to Dad, assum- 
 ing the manner of one wholly at ease. But his 
 feet were hesitant and his smile was dubious. 
 
 "Hello, Mr. Updike," he ventured. 
 
 Mr. Updike leisurely wiped his spectacles and 
 carefully adjusted them. 
 
 "If it ain't Vick," he commented. 
 
 :< Yes, sir, it's me," Vick replied, gaining con- 
 fidence. "I met Mr. Dearborn outside on the 
 street an' he told me to come in, that you might 
 let me come back again." 
 
 "Are you sure by now that you wanter come 
 back?" ' 
 
 "Dead sure, sir." 
 
 "I'll be glad to have you, then. It's a right 
 hard job to get hold of a man that's got some 
 sense." Vick warmed. "When do you wanter 
 go to work?"
 
 Saturday Nights 
 
 "Right now," eagerly; then solemnly, "I got 
 to tell you how sorry I am I hit you that day. 
 I'm awful sorry. I ought to have come back 
 an' told you before, but my meanness wouldn't 
 let me. You was right 'bout the girl all the 
 time. I found that out." 
 
 "Aw, we'll call it off, we'll forget it," Dad 
 answered awkwardly. "I was part to blame. 
 Young blood an' wild is easy to flare up. I 
 ought to have been ready for you." A wide 
 grin. " I ought to have known you'd lose your 
 head an' get fightin' mad." 
 
 "I did that," Vick gravely admitted. "But 
 I was mad at her an' took it out on you." 
 
 "You couldn't have hit a gal," Dad pro- 
 tested, his old eyes twinkling. "An* you just 
 had to hit somebody." 
 
 " Seems like I had to, sir." 
 
 "An' you did," Dad supplemented, somewhat 
 ruefully. 
 
 "I was a fool." 
 
 "Was?" the foreman dryly questioned, and 
 peered slyly over his glasses. 
 
 " That's the word, was," Vick stoutly affirmed. 
 "I'm done with her. She proved to me what 
 little she keered for anybody, outside of Eva 
 Wann. I'm cured of that sickness, Mr. Updike."
 
 Back at Dearborn's 223 
 
 At noon Dad shared his lunch with Vick. 
 The last crumbs cleaned up, the old man left the 
 room. A short while later he returned and 
 beckoned to Vick. 
 
 " Somebody out there askin' for you." 
 
 "Shad?" ' 
 
 "No, that gal." 
 
 "I'll see her," Vick said evenly. 
 
 She stood expectant near the head of the stair- 
 way to the smoking room. Seeing Vick ap- 
 proaching she stepped forward eagerly to meet 
 him. 
 
 "Vick? So you're back at Dearborn's!" 
 
 " Seems so," Vick answered. 
 
 She stared at him, the flush of joy fading 
 from her face. Because he withheld himself, 
 Vick now was something for the girl to desire. 
 
 "Ain't you glad to see me, Vick?" 
 
 "Not partic'larly." 
 
 " Vick ! " reproachfully. 
 
 "What's the use of lyin', Eva?" 
 
 "No use of lyin', but you didn't use to ack 
 this way to me." 
 
 " Nor you to me. When I was goin' with you 
 you didn't need no door-mat at your house; you 
 wiped your feet on me." 
 
 She stood speechless.
 
 224 Saturday Nights 
 
 "An* you tried to use me just once too often; 
 that day in the hospital." 
 
 "You treated me dirty, that day!" Eva 
 flared. "Gettin' your sister to drive me out!" 
 
 " I didn't want you there. I saw your greedi- 
 ness; Gawd knows 'twas plain 'nough. You 
 ain't capable of lovin' nobody." 
 
 Eva knew her selfishness. The topic must be 
 avoided. 
 
 "You loved me the day you jumped me into 
 the river," she reminded him. 
 
 " If you call that love. I wanted you. I was 
 wild over you." 
 
 "I loved you for that it made me." 
 
 'You say that, now, but you didn't stick to 
 me in my trouble. I needed your understanding 
 an' I didn't get it." 
 
 ; ' You mean the strike? Dill talked me 
 
 " I know he did," Vick interrupted. " That's 
 where you're weak, Eva. You ain't satisfied to 
 be loved by one. You want to have a bunch of 
 'em danglin', runnin' after your smiles." 
 
 "I don't." 
 
 "No?" Vick displayed his disbelief. 
 
 " I've been wantin' to see you, bad, Vick." 
 
 'Yes?", very impersonally. 
 
 "I've been waitin' for you to ask me again."
 
 Back at Dearborn's 225 
 
 "Ask what?", blankly. 
 
 "Ask me to marry you." Her smile once 
 would have brought his immediate surrender. 
 
 "Now, listen, Eva," Vick said, confused. 
 "That ain't no way for a girl to talk." 
 
 "Why ain't it?", boldly. 
 
 " I don't want to marry you, that's one reason 
 why. If I got to be plain talkin', Eva " 
 
 "You don't care nothin' for me?" 
 
 "Nothin'." 
 
 "You never did!" she declared angrily. 
 " You're a sneak, Vick Joyce, for leadin' me on. 
 You forced your comp'ny on me many a time 
 an* now when you do get me to tell you my 
 love" 
 
 " Not love; it ain't in you to love. You'd take 
 love; you'd ask for love, an' you'd get love, but 
 you couldn't give nothin' in return for it." 
 
 Eva, seeing her cause was hopeless, unleashed 
 her tongue. 
 
 " I've lowered myself, that's what I've done," 
 she cried, "talkin' to you like that! Now you'll 
 tell eve'ybody!" 
 
 "I ain't proud of it." 
 
 " I'm goin' to quit this here place, it's gettin* 
 too common. I won't work under the same roof 
 with you! You're a sneak an' a liar!"
 
 226 Saturday Nights 
 
 "Rave on, you can't make me mad." Vick 
 grinned to back the statement. 
 
 "An' a dirty scab!" she added, and flounced 
 away. 
 
 The six o'clock whistle blew permission to its 
 own little world to leave the work for another 
 day, and Dad and Vick met in the foreman's 
 office. 
 
 "You know, Vick," Dad began idly, "I'm 
 sorter glad you're back. I'm 'most ready to get 
 outer here an' I want to leave the job in good 
 hands." 
 
 Vick was all attention. 
 
 "All my children have grown up an' gotten 
 from under my feet. Ain't nobody at home but 
 me an' the wife." 
 
 'You're good for a long time yet, Mr. 
 Updike." 
 
 "Maybe so, but I've already worked a life- 
 time an' I want to loaf a little before I pass on. 
 I ain't got so much, but 'nough, I reggon, to 
 take keer of me an' the old lady. 
 
 Vick was not equal to suitable comment. 
 
 "Here's what I started to say," Dad con- 
 tinued. "I want you to take a grip on your- 
 self an' take keer of your job. Little by little 
 I'm goin' to put the responsibility on you an' I
 
 Back at Dearborn's 227 
 
 want you to be able to stand up under it. Do 
 you reggon you can?" 
 
 Vick glowed. "I can try," he answered. 
 " I ain't goin* to say I can do this or that. All 
 I want is a try." 
 
 "That's the talk, lad. You act that way an' 
 when I get ready to go you'll be the press room 
 foreman. That's a promise." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Updike." 
 
 Dad's angular features grew stern. "One 
 more thing," he added sternly. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Pass up the misters an' the sirs," the fore- 
 man ordered, breaking into a smile. "Call me 
 Dad, lad." 
 
 Vick walked home in a mood of mild exulta- 
 tion. His swelling hopes filled the air about him 
 with youth's optimism. The lad had not for- 
 gotten his Saturday night transgression nor the 
 debt with which it burdened him, but this was 
 the first hour in many weeks he had known 
 peace of mind. 
 
 For he was headed somewhere. There was 
 a reason for his existence. He could foresee for 
 himself a place in the world, a tiny place and 
 insignificant, but his own. And he would win 
 to it.
 
 Chapter 18 
 UNRUFFLED WATERS 
 
 Dad puffed into the office one morning with a 
 bulky bundle under his arm. He heaved it 
 upon his desk. 
 
 "Books," he said, sententiously. "I want you 
 to have em, Vick. I won't never need 'em again, 
 I reggon." 
 
 Vick removed the newspaper wrapping. 
 
 " I want you to take 'em home, lad, an' study 
 'em. They're the best of my technical works 
 an' I got from 'em a lot of what I know. You 
 can learn the same way, if you want to." 
 
 "I'll study 'em, Dad," Vick promised. 
 
 "Books ain't so much by 'emselves," Dad 
 rambled on reflectively, "but when you work at 
 a thing eve'y day they're a big help. Here in 
 the fact'ry you get the practice; at home you 
 can get the the'ries from the books." 
 
 "I can easy see that." 
 
 "An* 'nother thing," Dad continued, in the 
 positive manner of one who knew, "they'll keep
 
 Unruffled Waters 229 
 
 you outer mischief if you tackle 'em serious. If 
 you really an' truly put your mind to 'em they 
 ain't a task, they're a pleasure. An' they'll 
 keep you from runnin' 'round at nights." 
 
 "They're just what I need, Dad," Vick said 
 thankfully, " though I ain't runnin' 'round much 
 these here nights." 
 
 He rewrapped the books and that evening 
 they went home with him. Later the lad laid 
 out for himself a course of study according to a 
 plan suggested by the zealous Dad. 
 
 Thus developed the habit of staying home 
 after factory hours and Vick's evenings were 
 not wasted. He gave himself diligently to the 
 books and his progress communicated to his 
 angular benefactor unfeigned gratification. In- 
 variably after supper Vick wiped while Sarah 
 washed the dishes, so eager was he to have 
 undisturbed possession of the lamp and table. 
 The kitchen was his study. And Sarah found 
 keen satisfaction in her brother's ambition. 
 However little he achieved in the end it held him 
 at home. This was no insignificant matter to her 
 who had been the wife of Jasper Timmons. 
 
 At times Vick's mind, despite determined 
 attempts at concentration, strayed away to the 
 haunts of Main Street, generally to the familiar
 
 230 Saturday Nights 
 
 interior of Gallopin' Dick's saloon, but tiie 
 time soon came when the old life made little 
 appeal to him except on Saturday nights. It 
 was to be a long, long time before the coming 
 of Saturday did not awaken in him an almost 
 irresistible yearning to return to his old haunts. 
 
 More and more he sought the company of 
 Hesba Wyatt. Sunday afternoons the two 
 rambled happily through the woods of the 
 plateau beyond The Heights. For these adven- 
 tures Vick provided car fare, which generally 
 left him penniless. Each Saturday he gave to 
 Sarah nearly all that was left of his wages, 
 keeping for himself only enough for existence. 
 Of course, Gallopin' received his share. 
 
 Of necessity, Vick wore shabby clothes he 
 had no others. In his extreme sensitiveness he 
 was watchful for any indication on Hesba's part 
 that she was aware of his threadbare coat, but 
 he watched in vain. Their friendship continued 
 uneventfully. Of entertainment that called for 
 expenditure of money she received none and it 
 did not appear to annoy her. The " little brown 
 thrush," as Vick thought of her, serenely pur- 
 sued her way, loyal always, content in his com- 
 panionship. She herself was not fond of showy 
 clothes and she was endowed with a temperament
 
 Unruffled Waters 231 
 
 which did not require excitement to make life 
 livable. 
 
 Mrs. Cooper rejoiced openly in this growing 
 friendship. 
 
 "They was made for each other," the old 
 woman declared as she and Sarah watched the 
 pair saunter down Yarder Street. "Made for 
 each other, I say." 
 
 Sarah smiled her sympathy. 
 
 " I'm cert'ny glad they're comin' to get 'long 
 so nice together after all this time," Mrs. 
 Cooper continued. 
 
 " I am, too," Sarah candidly admitted. " Hes- 
 ba's a sensible girl an' knows how to take Vick. 
 He's funny, sometimes, an' hard to understand. 
 Touchy." * 
 
 "Vick's good at bottom," Mrs. Cooper an- 
 swered, as if defense were necessary. "All he 
 needs is the right girl to hold him steady. 
 Hesba's quiet but she's deep, Sary. She's deep." 
 
 "Vick cert'ny has been doin' good since they 
 been noticin* each other," Sarah remarked. 
 "Hesba's been a big help to him." 
 
 "They was born for each other they had to 
 get lovin' like," vowed the old woman. 
 
 As for Vick, he began to think of himself as in 
 love again, but a sane love this time, no heedless
 
 232 Saturday Nights 
 
 infatuation. The weeks of autumn passed and 
 during the blustering months of winter Vick grew 
 to know the strength of his affection for Hesba. 
 He came now to rely absolutely upon her. 
 
 Regularly each Saturday at noon Vick 
 stopped in Gallopin' Dick's on his way home 
 and came away with his receipt. Gallopin' was 
 strictly business, neither friendly nor unfriendly, 
 and Vick was man enough not to dislike him 
 because of the debt. He himself had incurred 
 it. He would pay and clear his record. 
 
 Vague thoughts of marriage came at times 
 but he knew there was no hope until his debt 
 was paid, nor could he with the memory of the 
 Saturday night delinquency on his conscience 
 bring himself to declare his love. First he 
 would square himself with the saloon man and 
 then, later, perhaps . . . 
 
 Shad sorely missed the one-time pal of his 
 evenings. At lunch hour at Dearborn's on a 
 day toward the last of winter, he ran across 
 Vick in the press room. 
 
 "What d'you think of it, Vick?" he 
 questioned. 
 
 "Of what?" 
 
 "Of Eva Wann get tin' married," replied 
 Shad with a chuckle.
 
 Unruffled Waters 233 
 
 Vick's brows lifted in unconcerned surprise. 
 "Is she married?" 
 
 "Uh-huh. To Dill." 
 
 "Shad," Vick spoke thoughtfully, "that 
 makes me even with Dill, I reggon. He's done 
 me dirty tricks an' I had it in for him. But he's 
 married to her, you say. I'd have to hate him 
 mighty bad to wish him worse than that." 
 
 The boisterous winds of March roared their 
 forecast of approaching spring. Three more 
 Saturday calls upon the saloon man and Vick 
 would be free of the incubus that, financially 
 and mentally, had burdened him since mid- 
 summer of the year that was gone. He had 
 done wrong, but in making restitution he had 
 acted the man and that knowledge gave him 
 no small satisfaction. Months of rigid self- 
 denial had tempered him finely. No Saturday 
 night had found him other than master of mind 
 and body. 
 
 The lad doubted seriously if he could have so 
 well withstood the assaults of his craving appe- 
 tite but for the friendship of Hesba. She may 
 have intuitively guessed something of his 
 struggle; Vick did not know. In his weakest 
 moments he often escaped temptation by seeking 
 her companionship, and it had never failed him.
 
 234 Saturday Nights 
 
 For a time, now, Vick had been nerving him- 
 self for the ordeal of confession. Ordeal it 
 would be. The lad flinched from the task of 
 telling the girl of his lapse into thievery. But 
 that he would have to do. He had no doubt 
 of her love of him. Such a state cannot be 
 concealed from eyes that continually probe and 
 Vick's were ever alert for signs of affection. 
 Hesba owned no guile; she was as candid and 
 direct as a boy. 
 
 Of late, sustained restraint had been neces- 
 sary to keep Vick from blurting out his love. 
 And Hesba waited for him to speak, confident 
 that he would. 
 
 When the hour of his confession came it was 
 unforeseen. With Hesba he was sitting in the 
 front room downstairs one Sunday afternoon 
 when a sudden impulse to tell her swept him 
 into an account of the last wild Saturday night. 
 When he had finished he looked anxiously at 
 Hesba. 
 
 "I just had to tell you," he explained. 
 
 "Vick!" Hesba cried, vibrant with sympathy. 
 " WTiy didn't you tell me before? All this time 
 you've had it on your mind, by yourself. I 
 might have helped you!" 
 
 'You have helped me, Hesba, but I couldn't
 
 Unruffled Waters 235 
 
 make myself tell you before today. Just now I 
 had to; somehow it busted right outer me. An* 
 I'm glad, now, for there's somethin' else I want 
 to tell you. But you had to know the other 
 first." 
 
 Apprehensive, knowing what was coming, de- 
 siring to hear yet half fearful, Hesba drew 
 away, blushing and silent. 
 
 "Ain*t you int'rested, Hesba?" Vick asked 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Yes," softly. 
 
 "You know I love you." 
 
 "I have have thought hoped so." 
 
 " Well, I'm tellin' you I do." In the manner 
 of men in such matters, when sensing encourage- 
 ment, Vick waxed bold. "An* you love me, 
 don't you, Hesba?" 
 
 She nodded her head, her tongue shy, her eyes 
 curtained by their lashes. 
 
 "Say it, then!" Vick gently commanded. 
 
 "I love you, Vick." 
 
 Like a breath of a summer breeze the murmur 
 came, but the lad heard. 
 
 Masterfully he gathered her to him and she 
 hid her burning face against his shoulder, that 
 he might not read what was written there. Then, 
 that he might know the depth of her love, she
 
 236 Saturday Nights 
 
 raised her face, her lips offering their own sweet 
 invitation. 
 
 The glorious silence of perfect understanding 
 enveloped them in an atmosphere of happy con- 
 tent, but presently Vick awoke to the problem 
 at hand. 
 
 " Hesba, can you marry me, knowin' that XVe 
 been" 
 
 "Hush!" She pressed a tender hand agamst 
 his mouth, effectually smothering the hateful 
 word. "You shan't say it, Vick. It ain't fair. 
 You were to blame, in a way, but your chief 
 fault was in getting in that awful condition. 
 After that you were at the mercy of any evil 
 that came. You were unlucky, that night. But 
 you're a man, now, not a boy, and almost done 
 with the taint of it." 
 
 The girl smiled. "I've forgotten what you 
 asked me, Vick." 
 
 "Can you marry me, Hesba?" 
 
 "I don't see why I can't," demurely. 
 
 "Will you marry me?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The afternoon hours slipped away unheeded 
 as they planned for themselves a future in 
 which adversity had no place. They would clear 
 the remainder of the debt to Gallopin' from their
 
 Unruffled Waters 237 
 
 path and would save a little money. Then they 
 would be married. 
 
 A fortnight later, on a Saturday noon, Vick 
 was accompanied from the factory by the genial 
 Lynn. Together they walked up Main Street. 
 This was unusual. The foreman of the stem- 
 ming room had not been constructed for walk- 
 ing. He was by build and inclination one of 
 nature's riders. His home was in the suburbs, 
 quite a distance from Dearborn's. 
 
 "Vick," Lynn spoke abruptly, "I'm a lucky 
 man." 
 
 "What's wrong now?" 
 
 "I asked Sarah last night," the mountainous 
 fellow rushed on, "an' she's goin' to marry me." 
 
 Vick was stricken with a sense of loss. "Aw, 
 Lynn." 
 
 " You needn't be worried, Vick," Lynn hastily 
 continued, as if he had been reproached. "I'm 
 goin' to take good care of her an' little Katie. 
 I can an' will." 
 
 " I ain't doubtin' that a bit," Vick replied, and 
 laughed at his moment of selfishness. "But 
 what 'bout me?" 
 
 'You?" The day was not overwarm, but 
 Lynn's handkerchief was dabbed continually at 
 his forehead. "Ain't you goin' with us, Vick?"
 
 238 Saturday Nights 
 
 "I don't know. Where?" 
 
 " Out near where I'm livin' now. Better ad- 
 vantages for Katie, Sarah thinks. She's the 
 boss, I reggon." The big fellow chuckled. 
 
 " I ain't so sure I want to go 'way out there," 
 Vick said musingly. He was thinking of Hesba. 
 
 " Sarah thought you'd go with us. She wants 
 you to. I do, too. She made me promise to tell 
 you." 
 
 "Aw, she might have known 'twas all right 
 with me. Sarah's got sense. Besides, I ain't 
 marryin' you." 
 
 " She's makin' me mighty happy, Vick." 
 
 "Aw, go on, it ain't so one-sided. I got eyes. 
 Sarah's gettin' a good man an' I'm darn glad 
 of it. She deserves better than what she had 
 before. She's been a good sister, Lynn, better 
 than I been a brother. When does it come off ? " 
 
 "Monday." 
 
 Vick whistled. 'You cert'ny ain't losin' no 
 time." 
 
 " We've had it planned a long time, Vick." 
 
 At the intersection of Yarder Street they 
 stood and conversed until Lynn's car came 
 along. He clambered aboard and Vick im- 
 mediately crossed over to Gallopin' Dick's. A 
 few minutes later he emerged, in his pocket a
 
 Unruffled Waters 239 
 
 receipt in full. Once, as he swung b'thely to- 
 ward home, he patted the bit of paper and a 
 smile of gratification deepened the corners of 
 his mouth. 
 
 Sarah and Lynn were married the Monday 
 following. That evening Hesba and Vick went 
 for a walk. 
 
 "I'm square with the world now, Hesba," 
 Vick told her, when they were away from the 
 house. 
 
 "You know I'm glad, Vick." 
 
 " But now I've got another worry. I don't 
 wanter go with Sarah and Lynn ; I want to stay 
 where you are!" 
 
 "We can see each other often," the girl re- 
 flectively replied. "You can come down every 
 evening if you want to. But it wouldn't be the 
 same and and I don't Want you to go, either." 
 
 They walked some distance in thoughtful 
 silence. 
 
 "Aw, le's get married right now to-mor- 
 row," Vick suggested impulsively. " What's the 
 use in waitin', anyhow? Le's get married to- 
 morrow, Hesba. We can live with Mrs. Cooper. 
 What d'you say, girl?" 
 
 "I'm willin', Vick," answered Hesba quietly. 
 "There's not much use of waiting. Of course,
 
 240 Saturday Nights 
 
 it wouldn't hurt none if we had a nest-egg, but 
 we can start out even, anyhow." 
 
 "We can that," Vick agreed, a bit proudly. 
 
 "We've got to boUd oar future together," 
 she continued, "and the sooner we start the 
 better off well be in the long run, I'm thinkin V 
 
 "To-morrow then!" Vick was exultant "If 
 there was any way to harry it op it would be 
 to-night That's what I think of it, Hesba." 
 
 The gni laughed, her eyes bright. "No kiss- 
 ing, Vick, here in the street You may be dis- 
 appointed in me yet I'm just a girL" 
 
 "Yes, bat such a girl!" 
 
 "To-morrow's Tuesday," Hesba idly com- 
 
 "Tuesday's all right; any day's kicky for me 
 to marry you. That is, any day but Sattiday." 
 
 "Saturfay?" 
 
 "Hesba," Vick spoke earnestly, "once I used 
 to think that Sattiday was Hie only day in the 
 week. To me the other days didn't mean nothin' 
 bat work. Sundays was the rottenest of all 
 nothin' to do. But Sattiday nights, they was 
 the beginnin' an' the endin' of the week. 'Twos 
 only than that me an' Shad Fish had a little 
 money an' just's sure as Sattiday would roll 
 'round me an' him would get all tangled up with
 
 Unruffled Waters 241 
 
 booze. 'Twas 'bout all we ever looked forward 
 to." 
 
 "I know, Vick," Hesba answered gravely. 
 "A lot of men are like that. Give them their 
 hours of Saturday and the world could fall to 
 pieces for all they'd care." 
 
 "That's the way I felt," Vick ruefully 
 admitted. 
 
 "I think the days and nights are what you 
 make of them yourself. You don't have to 
 whoop and drink and play cards to enjoy life. 
 Of course, I'm a girl, but Sunday was always 
 my favorite day." 
 
 "Mine, too, since " 
 
 "Since when?" she teasingly interrupted. 
 
 "Aw, you know," Vick retorted, with an 
 expansive smile. 
 
 Late forenoon of the next day saw a rather 
 dilapidated cab roll up to the house in Yarder 
 Street, and Mrs. Vickery Joyce was assisted to 
 the curbing by her husband. Mrs. Cooper, 
 almost bursting in her pride, awaited them on 
 the porch. 
 
 Vick paid the darky driver, noting that he 
 had left the munificent sum of seventy cents. A 
 whimsical resolve seized him and he thrust the 
 coins into the driver's hand. Hesba well knew
 
 242 Saturday Nights 
 
 the pitiable state of their finances but she 
 laughed gleefully. 
 
 "Good!" she exclaimed. "We'll start with 
 nothing!" 
 
 Vick leaned close. "Nothin' but love," he 
 whispered. 
 
 Interested neighbors were watching them and 
 in spite of herself Hesba crimsoned. She ran 
 across the pavement and up the steps, into the 
 arms of her aunt.
 
 Chapter 19 
 WHEN A MAN'S A FRIEND 
 
 The Saturday that followed Vick and Hesba's 
 wedding day was Dad Updike's last day of 
 work at Dearborn's. Knowing that he was 
 capable, Dad cheerfully relinquished his post to 
 the lad. The old foreman had looked forward 
 to the permanent surrender of his authority over 
 the press room, to the time he might be assured 
 of the lasting steadiness of his youthful protege. 
 
 The evening of the next day, Sunday, was 
 destined to be a momentous time in the life of 
 the new foreman. It was close to dusk when 
 Vick and Hesba returned home after a lengthy 
 ramble. They had Shad to supper. Mrs. 
 Cooper was at the bedside of an ailing neighbor. 
 
 After the meal Hesba left the table as it was 
 and the trio chatted merrily for half an hour or 
 so. Shad grew nervous. 
 
 " I cert'ny hate to eat an' run," he said. 
 
 "Aw, you ain't got to," Vick responded. 
 "You ain't got a date." 
 
 243
 
 244 Saturday Nights 
 
 "Vick!" Hesba reproached. "How do you 
 know?" 
 
 "Don't mind him, Mrs. Vick, he's the same 
 old sinner, still thinkin' he knows it all," said 
 Shad. 
 
 "Anyhow, you didn't use to have dates," Vick 
 laughingly continued. 
 
 Shad was arrayed in his best and he com- 
 placently surveyed the neatness of his apparel. 
 
 "Used to ain't now," he retorted. 
 
 He was smiling, pleased with himself and the 
 world, when Vick accompanied him to the door. 
 
 " Vick, you sure picked a real one," whispered 
 Shad enthusiastically. "Man, she's a winner!" 
 
 "Your eyesight ain't failin* a bit." 
 
 " This here means the real end of our chum- 
 min', I reggon," Shad went on, his voice tinged 
 with regret. " You an' me ran together a long 
 time, Vick." 
 
 " We did that. You been a good pal, Shad." 
 
 "Many's the headaches we picked up 
 together." 
 
 "Not lately," Vick corrected, laughing. 
 
 " That's right," Shad agreed. " We ain't seen 
 much of each other nights for some time." 
 
 "There wasn't much to it 'cept headaches, to 
 tell the truth," Vick commented.
 
 When A Man's A Friend 245 
 
 "I ain't arguin', Vick. You got onto it 
 quicker'n me, that's all. She, Mrs. Vick, cut 
 me out an* it's turned out better that way. I 
 can see it, now. I didn't mind it so much as I 
 did the other time when you an' Eva Warm 
 was thicker'n thieves. That made me sick, Vick. 
 I couldn't see where you was betterin' yourself 
 none." 
 
 "I reggon I wasn't," Vick replied gravely. 
 " But she had me, Shad. She had me good an' 
 proper.' 
 
 "But your wife, why, she's fine!" Shad 
 waxed vehement. "Me I wouldn't mind 
 havin' one like her myself!" 
 
 "Aw, go on," Vick chuckled. "Don't forget 
 you're a girl-hater. How many times 
 
 "Hold on wait!" Shad was grinning. 
 "Can't a man change his mind?" 
 
 " Sure he can. An' I b'lieve you got one 
 picked out right now, Shad. You're in a mighty 
 big hurry to leave good comp'ny. Who is she?" 
 
 Shad, still grinning, backed away. " Not yet, 
 Vick, not yet. No names, no blames. I'm just 
 investigatin' 'round a little. That's all right 
 now." 
 
 The supper dishes were washed. Vick had 
 wiped the last plate and was stowing it in the
 
 246 Saturday Nights 
 
 kitchen safe when the door bell rang. Hesba 
 stood the broom in a corner and answered the 
 pealing summons. From the front room came 
 her cheery call and Vick hastily discarded Mrs. 
 Cooper's gingham apron. But his face dark- 
 ened as he recognized his visitors. Gallopin' 
 Dick Jessup and the officer, Dugg. Recollection 
 of another Sunday alarmed the lad. He did not 
 wait for them to speak. 
 
 " What d'you want? " he demanded. " Tryin' 
 to stir up something'?" 
 
 "Not a-tall, Vick, not a-tall," Gallopin' an- 
 swered earnestly, while Dugg uneasily shifted 
 his cumbrous feet. 
 
 "You can't hurt me!" said Vick defiantly. 
 "I've told my wife; she knows all 'bout it!" 
 
 "Now, Vick," Gallopin' spoke soothingly, 
 "you hold on a minute. Lemme do a piece of 
 talkin'. We, me an' Dugg, we got somethin' 
 important to say. Ain't we, Dugg?" 
 
 "We have," Dugg agreed solemnly. 
 
 Gallopin' smiled, endeavoring to convey the 
 friendliness of their intentions. Dugg had 
 trouble with his throat and rumblingly tried to 
 clear it. Gallopin' was the first to speak. 
 
 "Vick, you got to admit that the whole thing 
 done you good. It skeered you 'way from the
 
 When A Man's A Friend 247 
 
 booze an' straightened you out, brought you to 
 your common senses. You got to admit that, 
 ain't you now?" 
 
 "What thing?" 
 
 "The robbery." 
 
 Vick glowered. "It might have. What of 
 it?" 
 
 " 'Course it did," Gallopin' vigorously insisted. 
 " You had to pay me so much outer your wages 
 you didn't have nothin' left for booze. So, with 
 that, an' thinkin' I'd put the screws to you if 
 you didn't pay reg'lar, you was just bound to 
 go straight. Wasn't you?" 
 
 Vick would not answer. 
 
 "All right, just you remember that," Gal- 
 lopin' continued, with the air of one who had 
 scored. " It's well understood by us all. I want 
 to get that into your mind good an' deep before 
 I let the big news out. Now listen, an' hold 
 your head." 
 
 Vick was wide of eye, while Hesba in her 
 interest stepped closer to her husband. 
 
 'You never stole that money. The robbery 
 was a fake!" shouted Gallopin' Dick. 
 
 " What? " The word shot from Vick's mouth 
 in his shocked surprise. He could not compre- 
 hend; the statement was unbelievable.
 
 248 Saturday Nights 
 
 " You tell me. Come clean with it all! " Vick 
 demanded. "An' if it don't sound good to me 
 I'll knock" 
 
 "Vick." Hesba's voice calmed the lad. 
 
 "That's what we come for to tell the whole 
 thing," Gallopin' went on. "We would have 
 come before but Dugg's been sick an' just got 
 out. I had to have him 'long with me. He's in 
 this here biz'ness as deep as I am. Besides, I 
 thought you might get rambuctious an' I'd 
 need the help of his two big fists." 
 
 The attempt at jocularity made no impres- 
 sion upon Vick and a strained silence followed. 
 At length inspiration came to Gallopin'. He 
 jerked from a pocket a very corpulent roll of 
 bills and unceremoniously thrust it into Hesba's 
 hands. 
 
 "That's yours," he told her. 
 
 "Mine?" 
 
 'Yours. I ought to know. More'n three 
 hundred dollars there. An' if it hadn't been for 
 me an' Dugg, Vick wouldn't have a cent of it. 
 Or a wife like you, I'm bettin'." 
 
 " Take the money, Mrs. Joyce," Dugg urged. 
 " Gallopin's got it right." 
 
 "First lemme say that what we done was for 
 your good; not ours." Gallopin' was never more
 
 When A Man's A Friend 249 
 
 serious. "We didn't stand to get a cent outer 
 the deal an' besides, we got your hard feelin's. 
 The Sattiday night you picked that fellow up 
 in my place you remember, Vick?" Vick 
 nodded that he did. "Dugg come to me. I'd 
 just closed up. 'Twas that late. Dugg told 
 me you was out in the street, drunk an' helpless." 
 
 Vick's gaze wavered. 
 
 "Dugg had just come on duty. We picked 
 you up an' took you back in the alley where 
 you woke up. I was mighty sorry an' so was 
 Dugg to see you that way. They none of 
 'em don't last long with 'em kinder sprees. I 
 know. So there in the alley we stuck our heads 
 together an' schemed up the robbery. I took 
 your cap an' handkerchief an' hid the money 
 where you wasn't likely to find it in your pocket. 
 All that for evidence to convict you in your 
 own mind. We wanted to put you in a hole 
 you was bound to dig outer yourself, an' in the 
 diggin' make the man outer yourself that you 
 was meant to be. 
 
 "Till the mornin' Dugg stayed with you as 
 much as he could an' he was right there watchin' 
 when daylight come. You went home up Yar- 
 der Street. Later on in the day, like we had 
 schemed, we went to your house an' worked the
 
 250 Saturday Nights 
 
 fake on you. 'Twas our play to get you skeered 
 of prison an' I had to act mean. 
 
 "We fooled you like we wanted to. You 
 went to work to pay the debt and you quit 
 hittin' the booze. I had my eyes on you all the 
 time. An' you saved, not knowin', over three 
 hundred iron men. We knew that some day a 
 nice girl would more'n likely want you, an' we 
 wanted you to be as near good 'nough for her 
 as a man could be. A girl like your wife here 
 couldn't marry a rum-head. Did we do right, 
 Vick Joyce, or did we do wrong?" 
 
 Vick's head was bowed in shame. What 
 friends to have these men! 
 
 He lifted his head, blinking eyes that were 
 damp. He saw the outthrust hand of Gallopin'. 
 He clutched it hard, then found the hand of the 
 impassive Dugg. 
 
 "Gallopin'! Dugg! I" Vick could not 
 talk. 
 
 "It was wonderful!" Hesba declared. 
 
 " Gallopin', I wish I was able to thank you, 
 an' Dugg, an' tell you how I feel *bout it. I 
 can't I" 
 
 "Don't!" Gallopin' roughly interrupted, as- 
 suming his mask of gruff ness. "Me an' Dugg
 
 When A Man's A Friend 251 
 
 don't want no thanks. If you ain't mad with us, 
 we ain't mad with you. That's a bet!" 
 
 "Mad? Man, you two are the cause of me 
 buckin' up an' makin' good so far's I've gone. 
 An' I'm goin' farther." 
 
 "Aw, somebody had to do it." 
 
 "But you done it an' I'm tellin' you I'm 
 thankful." 
 
 " That's all right, Vick," Dugg spoke. "Just 
 think of us as friends hereafter an* we'll be 
 satisfied. Just so you ain't sore that we fooled 
 you." 
 
 "I got more sense than that, now, I hope," 
 Vick replied soberly. "You say there wasnt 
 no robbery?" 
 
 "None a-tall not on my beat." 
 
 "Who was the fellow I was with, I wonder? 
 You told me he was a yegg or somethin'." 
 
 The men exchanged glances. 
 
 "'Nother lie," Gallopin' grimly answered. 
 "He ain't no yegg. He's a writin' fellow who 
 blows downtown eve'y now an' then to get on 
 a jag. One time he explained to me. Some- 
 times his brains get clean 'way from him an' he 
 has to slow it up with whisky. After he's been 
 on a toot an' has got over it he starts in to write 
 again an don't drink no more till the wheels
 
 252 Saturday Nights 
 
 start buzzin' too fast again. His mind got too 
 much alive, he said." 
 
 The visitors made ready to go. 
 
 "By the way," Dugg spoke placidly, "there's 
 somethin' else this here hard-face vilyun done to 
 you that I might's well tell while the tellin' is 
 good. He made it his bus'ness to see old man 
 Dearborn an' Dad Updike an' fix things right 
 for you." 
 
 "Aw, Dugg," Gallopin' protested in con- 
 fusion. 
 
 "I ought to have 'spected somethin'," Vick 
 remarked. "Things come my way too easy. 
 'Nother debt, Gallopin'. I'll pay, if the time 
 ever comes." 
 
 "Aw, forget it!" Gallopin' growled, with a 
 show of weariness. "Dugg's a good cop, maybe, 
 but he's got a woman's tongue. Meam'n' no 
 offense to you, Mrs. Joyce," he hastily added. 
 
 "None is taken," the girl assured him, smil- 
 ing, "but I must side with Mr. Dugg. That 
 kind of secret is better told; it ought to be."
 
 Chapter 20 
 THE FUTURE BECKONS 
 
 They were alone. At Hesba's suggestion 
 Vick carried chairs out upon the little square 
 porch which overlooked the walk. An April 
 shower, short as it was torrential, had swept 
 clean the cobbles of Yarder Street. 
 
 "Mr. Jessup has proved he's a good man," 
 Hesba musingly remarked, "but to look at him 
 you'd think he's brutal and hard-hearted. It's 
 a pity he has such a hard face. Nobody could 
 be blamed for thinking he was mean." 
 
 "An* to fool people still worse Gallopin' talks 
 mean," Vick replied. 
 
 "I read a book once," Hesba went on, "in 
 which there was a hangman. He was terrible. 
 The description of him made a lasting im- 
 pression on me. Mr. Jessup's face reminded 
 me of him." 
 
 Vick chuckled immoderately. "Gallopin' 
 wouldn't hang a fly. Listen, Hesba. I'll tell 
 you somethin' he told me a long time back. 
 
 253
 
 254 Saturday Nights 
 
 He's got five think of it, five! little girls 
 at his home that he's swore to raise right, an' 
 he's goin' to raise 'em right, regardless. He'd 
 die for any one of 'em, an' willin', I reggon. 
 I thought he was mean, too. He fooled me, all 
 right. But the man's heart is so big he's 'shamed 
 to let folks know he's even got one. Come to 
 think of it I bet he's always doin' good on the 
 sly, like what he done for me." 
 
 "He showed his heart to us, Vick." 
 
 " He did," Vick agreed. " I'm in debt to him 
 again, but not the same way, I'm thankful to 
 say." 
 
 " Maybe the time will come when you can get 
 even." 
 
 " I'll keep on hopin' so." 
 
 A musing silence. 
 
 "Vick," Hesba said at length, "I've been 
 thinking maybe you'd want to move into a better 
 neighborhood. But Aunt wants us to stay with 
 her and we ought to. She'd be awful lonesome 
 if we left." 
 
 'You ain't heard me grumblin', girl." , 
 
 "No, I was just thinking." 
 
 Vick deliberately surveyed the familiar 
 thoroughfare. 
 
 " Somehow," he drawled contentedly, " the old
 
 The Future Beckons 255 
 
 street don't look so bad tonight. Maybe it's 
 'cause," complacently, "we can move if we get 
 the idea. With the money we got an' what my 
 raise'll bring in eve'y week, we could start 
 buyin' a little place out there near Sarah an' 
 Lynn." 
 
 "We oughtn't to leave Aunt, Vick." 
 "Aw, I ain't botherin' 'bout where I'm livin', 
 Hesba girl. Just so you're with me, that's all 
 I ask." He leaned close, whispering, his arms 
 about her, his cheeks caressing hers, smooth and 
 cool in the shadows. "Where you are, my 
 wife