This Side of Jordan Read Online Free PDF

today.
    â€œWell, are you still hungry a little? Reason I ask is, I thought maybe you and me’d find a night lunchroom somewhere and have ourselves something to eat. If you’ve already had your supper, I’ll set you up to a piece of pie. What do you say? I haven’t eaten since noon and I’m getting an awful bellyache.”
    Alvin smiled. “I like pie.”
    â€œWell, then, let’s shoot the works,” Chester said, disposing of his cigarette. “Follow me.”
    He had parked under a ragged oak at the upper corner of the parking lot. Alvin saw a shiny tan Packard Six hidden in the shadows.
    â€œGee, this is a pretty swell auto.”
    Alvin had never seen a Six in the flesh before, only a magazine advertisement that named Packards “The supreme combination of all that is fine in motor cars. Ask the man who owns one.”
    â€œIt’s nifty, all right,” Chester said, unlocking the door. He climbed into the driver’s seat, and reached across to open the passenger door. “Come on, kid. Hop in.”
    â€œSure.”
    The farm boy climbed into the car as Chester fired up the engine. The interior smelled like cigarettes and gin. A pair of old leather valises were jammed in front of a bunch of boxes in the backseat. Alvin had never been inside of a fine motorcar. He liked it.
    At the stop sign on the corner, Chester asked, “Where should we eat?”
    â€œWell, tell the truth,” Alvin confessed, “there ain’t really nothing open ’round here after dark.” Where was he going, anyhow? It’d be a hell of a long walk home by moonlight and he had already begun to feel weak. He sure didn’t want to come home wheezing and have everyone in the family see how bad off he was.
    â€œHow about the other side of the river?” Chester asked, letting another automobile pass by before he went right.
    â€œI guess so. There’s a flock of hotels.”
    â€œShould we drive over?”
    Alvin shrugged. “All right.”
    Chester turned at the stop sign, then drove quickly west along Buchanon Street. Most of the framehouses still had lights on, but the sidewalks were empty and the neighborhood was quiet. Alvin knew he had to feed the dairy cows in the morning and replace the floorboards in one of Uncle Henry’s barn stalls and help fix his old disc harrow. He also knew Doc Hartley was coming out to the farm tomorrow afternoon to give him another once-over and maybe decide it was time for Alvin’s folks to buy another train ticket on the Limited back to the sanitarium. That spooked him something fierce.
    Chester asked, “Ever been across the Mississippi this time of night?”
    â€œNot by motor.”
    â€œWell, you see, I’ve got appointments in Hannibal and New London tomorrow. Maybe we ought to hire a couple of rooms, stay over a night or so. What do you think?”
    â€œI ain’t got any money.”
    â€œWe can tackle that tomorrow,” Chester said, steering around another corner. The bridge was up ahead, rising out of a cypress grove. “Say, maybe you can help me out in New London. I could sure use a partner who’s willing to put in an honest day’s work.”
    â€œWhat would I have to do?”
    Chester laughed. “Well, you wouldn’t be slopping hogs.”
    Alvin felt his face flush. Now he was really scared. This fellow was asking him to quit the farm, which he hated, without letting anyone know about it, and by noon everyone in the family would say that poor sick Alvin was too dumb to understand just how important it was that he begin his pneumothorax treatments all over again.
    Chester swung the Packard onto the bridge that led west across the Mississippi River. Both windows were open and a draft swirled through, cold and nightdamp.
    â€œWell, what do you say, kid? I won’t kick about it if you say no, but you have to choose now. I got supper waiting for me on the