Limekiller!

Jack had been looking at all this in the mirror behind the bar and of half a mind to intervene and yet more than half paralyzed with astonishment, ignorant of what could it all mean, and. even. by reason, perhaps, of his being a foreigner, perhaps by reason of. — Jack, looking in the mirror behind the bar saw something green and yellow and blue and red come peering and peeping up behind the low partition halfway back the bar-room: saw, at this moment, the very little man seem to go absolutely insane, great drops of sweat literally flying from frenzied face as he whipped it from side to side seeking escape, only escape: and then the mass of feather-colors came soaring through the air and the very little man crouched and piddled like a crouching dog and screamed and flung his arms over his head and hooted: there was no other word for it: hooted his terror. The bartender produced from nowhere a cricket- bat and brought it down with force. Once. Twice. A third time.

And all the while the pandaemonium of mad laughter went on.

And then it stopped.

As though waiting.

And in a very tiny voice the very tiny man with the very large hands and head asked, words a-tremble, “You keel eet, mon?”

And then it began again.

Slowly, slowly, the very little man uncovered his huge head and peered, oh so slowly and oh slow frightenedlv, from under one upflung arm. Shuddered. And shuddered. And shuddered. There on the bar was the shattered body of a parrot. It had been killed, all right. That is. well. anyway, it was dead. It had been, evidently, dead a while, and the sawdust with which it had been stuffed was scattered all around.

The feet, of course, were not there.

The very little man’s very large eyes blinked. His very large mouth opened. Closed. Opened. He swiveled round on the bar. Faced the silent crowd (now silent). Pointed a trembling finger at large. Said: “Ha. You try fi fool me. Ha. You w’only try fi fool me. Ha. But me no fool. Me w’only play And at this he started to stand up, slipped in his own urine, and came down with an immense soggy-slapping pratfall. The place at once erupted again with laughter loud as battle. And the very little man put his very large hands up across his very large face and began to weep, noisily, as a child might weep: a cry of purest sorrow, devoid alike of petulance or rage.

At once the mood of the mob changed. Where, a moment ago, he had fallen (slap) and sat alone, the lee mahn was now surrounded. Men clapped him on the back. Women kissed him. People shook both his hands, still wet with his own tears. And now loud murmurs arose, and angry looks and glances were cast. “ Who do dis t’ing? Which place he be?MehkIsee him. 1 w’only rip his reins out! Who go fi play dis trick on poor lee Willy Weekins? Bobboon’s bostard! Get-of- a-whore! Mehk I see which side he be!" — But the scoundrel had fled.

Now arose the only White woman in the place, she was a large White woman, not fat: large: a well-known and well-respected prostitute, with a face as richly colored (and as lineless) as that of an immense wax doll; she took from her vast purse now a vast lace handkerchief. In a voice indicating a touch of, only, well-bred concern, she said, “My. You’ve spilled your beer.” And began, in a most genteel manner, gently to dab and to mop. - And then, when Limekiller (now, and only now he noticed: on his feet) expected the place to burst out yet again in laughter: there was not a sound.

Until, after a second, only, “lee Willy Weekins” himself broke the silence. “Yes! Yes! (T’ank you, mah’m. T’ank you kindly.) I di spill me beer. Ha-ha! Ha-ha! Well, plenty more beer! Bartender! Hi, I say you: barkeep! Leff us hahve some beer! Who want beer? Rum? Whiskey-soda? Drinks!. I ahm Willy Wiggins, holding Government Lease Number 523 fi cut rosewood at Wild Hog Eddy — ho!” He clapped his huge hands as though summoning a host of servitors. „— ond I di sell ahl me cut stick ot highest price to Tropical Hardwood, L.T.D., ond so noew I want fi buy drink fi ahl me friend — nobody else money good today! Drinks ahl-roend! Drinks —”

Limekiller was outside. He had wanted another drink, but he didn’t want one now. Not of this round, not the next nor next.