Savage Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

said Mr. Kendall. “Your new boarder.”
    “Oh, yeah? Yeah!” He took a step backward, keeping his eyes fixed on me. “B-boarder, huh? So h-he-s the new b-boarder, huh? Oh, y-yeah?”
    “Of course, he’s the new boarder!” Kendall snapped. “A very fine young man, and you’re certainly doing your best to make him uncomfortable! Now, why—”
    “Oh, yuh-yeah? Yeah!” He kept on edging toward the door, edging backward in a sort of half crouch. His eyes peered out at me wildly through the tumbled strands of his greasy black hair. “N-new b-boarder. Makin’ h-huh-him uncomfortable. Huh-him uncomfortable! Oh, y-yeah?”
    It was like a broken record—a broken record with a rasping, worn-out needle. He made me think of some wild sick animal, trapped in a corner.
    “Oh, y-yeah? Yeah!” He didn’t seem to be able to stop it. All he could do was back up, back, back, back…
    “This is disgusting, sir! You know quite well you’ve been expecting Mr. Bigelow. I was present when you talked about it with Mrs. Winroy.”
    “Oh, y-yeah? Yeah! ’S-spectin’ Mr. Bigelow, yeah? ’S-spectin’ Mr. B-Bigger-low…”
    His back touched against the screen door.
    And he tripped on the lintel, plunged stumbling across the porch and went crashing down the steps. He turned a complete somersault on the way down.
    “Oh, my goodness!” Mr. Kendall snapped on the porch light. “ Oh, my goodness!” He’s probably killed himself!”
    Wringing his hands, he scuttled across the porch and started down the steps. And I sauntered after him. But Jake Winroy wasn’t dead, and he didn’t want any help from me.
    “Nnnnuh-NO!” he yelled. “N-NUHNUH—NO!…”
    He rolled to his feet. He sprang awkwardly toward the gate, and he tripped and went down again. He picked himself up and shot staggering into the road.
    He took off right down the middle of it toward town. Arms flapping, legs weaving and wobbling crazily. Running, because there was nothing to do but run.
    I felt pretty sorry for him. He didn’t need to let his house look like it did, and I couldn’t excuse him for it. But I still felt sorry.
    “Please don’t let this upset you, Mr. Bigelow.” Kendall touched my arm. “He simply goes a little crazy when he gets too much liquor in him.”
    “Sure,” I said. “I understand. My father was a pretty heavy drinker…Let’s get the light off, huh?”
    I jerked my head over my shoulder. A bunch a yokels had come out of the bar and were staring across the street at us.
    I turned the light off, and we stood on the porch talking a few minutes. He said he hoped Ruthie hadn’t been alarmed. He invited me to the bakery again, and I turned him down.
    He stuffed tobacco into his pipe, puffed at it nervously. “I can’t tell you how much I admired your self-possession, Mr. Bigelow. I’m afraid I—I’ve always thought I was pretty cool and collected, but—”
    “You are,” I said. “You were swell. It’s just that you’re not used to drunks.”
    “You say your—uh—your father—?”
    It was strange that I’d mentioned it. I mean, there wasn’t any harm in mentioning it; but it had been so long ago, more than thirty years ago.
    “Of course, I don’t remember anything about it,” I said. “That was back in 1930 and I was only a baby at the time; but my mother—” That was one lie I had to pound home. My age.
    “Tsk, tsk! Poor woman. How terrible for her!”
    “He was a coal miner,” I said. “Over around McAlester, Oklahoma. The union didn’t amount to much in those days, and I don’t need to tell you there was a depression. About the only work a man could get was in the wildcats, working without inspection. Stripping pillars—”
    I paused a moment, remembering. Remembering the stooped back, and the glaring fear-maddened eyes. Remembering the choked sounds at night, the sobbing screams.
    “He got the idea that we were trying to kill him,” I said. “If we spilled a little meal, or tore our clothes or