The Best of Gerald Kersh Read Online Free PDF Page A

body. Ouif was smashed, finished. I replied: ‘I don’t think there’s anything much you can do.’
    â€˜A hotawatta-bottle?’
    â€˜A hot-water bottle’s no use. Wait till the vet comes.’
    â€˜Hooh. But what I do? Dis is my dog. Brandy?’
    â€˜Don’t be silly. Brandy’ll make him cough, and it hurts him even to breathe.’
    â€˜Hell!’ exclaimed Busto, savagely.
    I touched Ouif’s stomach. He yelped sharply. I covered him again.
    â€˜How did it happen?’
    Busto flung up his big, earth-coloured fists in a helpless gesture. ‘Me, I go buya one-two bottla wine ova da road. Ouif run afta me. Dam taxi comes arounda dacorner. Brr-rrr-oum! Fffff! Run aright ova da dog, withouta stop!’ shouted Busto, opening and closing his hands with awful ferocity. Hell, Ker- ist ! If I getta holda diss fella. Gordamighty I tear ’im up a-to bits !Lissen; I tear outa diss fella’s ’eart an’ tear dat up a-to bits too! Yes!’ shrieked Busto, striking at the wall with his knuckles and scattering flakes of distemper. ‘Lissen, you tink ’e die, Ouif?’
    â€˜I’m afraid he might. All his stomach’s crushed. And his ribs. All the bones——’
    â€˜Basta, basta, eh? Enough.’ Busto slouched over to the table, seized a bottle of wine and filled two teacups. ‘Drink!’ he commanded, handing one to me; and emptied his cup at a gulp. I swallowed a mouthful of the wine. It seemed to vaporise in my stomach like water on a red-hot stove – psssst! – and the fumes rushed up to my head. Busto drank another cup, banging down the bottle.
    â€˜You like this dog, eh?’ I said.
    â€˜I send my fraynd for the vet. Why don’t dey come, dis vet?’
    There was a knock at the front door. Busto rushed upstairs , and then came down followed by a wizened man who looked like a racing tipster, and a tall old man with a black bag.
    â€˜Dissa my dog.’
    â€˜What happened?’ asked the vet.
    â€˜Run over,’ said the little man, ‘I told yer, didn’t I?’
    â€˜Well, let’s have a look.’ The vet stooped, pulled back the blanket, and began to touch Ouif here and there with light, skilful hands; looked at his eyes, said ‘Hm!’ and then shook his head.
    â€˜So?’ said Busto.
    â€˜Nothing much to be done, I’m afraid. Quite hopeless.’
    â€˜â€™E die, hah?’
    â€˜I’m afraid so. The best thing to do will be to put him out of his misery quickly.’
    â€˜Misery?’
    â€˜I say, the kindest thing will be to put him to sleep.’
    â€˜Kill ’im, ’e means,’ said the wizened man.
    â€˜Lissen,’ said Busto. ‘You mak this dog oright, I give you lotta money. Uh?’
    â€˜But I tell you, nothing can possibly be done. His pelvis is all smashed to——’
    â€˜Yes, yes, but lissen. You maka dis dog oright, I give you ten quid.’
    â€˜Even if you offered me ten thousand pounds, Mister … er … I couldn’t save your dog. I know how you feel, and I’m sorry. But I tell you, the kindest thing you can possibly do is put him quietly to sleep. He’ll only go on suffering, to no purpose.’
    â€˜Dammit, fifty quid!’ cried Busto.
    â€˜I’m not considering money. If it were possible to help your dog, I would; but I can’t.’
    â€˜Dammit, a hundreda quid!’ yelled Busto. ‘You tink I aina got no money? Hah! Look!’ He dragged open his waistcoat.
    â€˜Nothing can be done. I’m sorry,’ said the vet.
    Busto rebuttoned his waistcoat. ‘So what you wanna do? Killum?’
    â€˜It’s the only merciful thing to do.’
    â€˜How mucha dat cost?’
    â€˜Mmmmm, five shillings.’
    â€˜But make ’im oright, dat aina possible?’
    â€˜Quite impossible.’
    â€˜Not for no money?’
    â€˜Not for all the money in