conversation of these youths, that on such occasions as
this they did drink, that he did not see how he could very
well hold back. What would they think of him if he didn’t
drink something? For ever since he had been among them,
he had been trying to appear as much of a man of the world
as they were. And yet back of him, as he could plainly feel,
lay all of the years in which he had been drilled in the
“horrors” of drink and evil companionship. And even though
in his heart this long while he had secretly rebelled against
nearly all the texts and maxims to which his parents were
always alluding, deeply resenting really as worthless and
pointless the ragamuffin crew of wasters and failures whom
they were always seeking to save, still, now he was inclined
to think and hesitate. Should he or should he not drink?
For the fraction of an instant only, while all these things in
him now spoke, he hesitated, then added: “Why, I, oh—I
think I’ll take Rhine wine and seltzer, too.” It was the easiest
and safest thing to say, as he saw it. Already the rather
temperate and even innocuous character of Rhine wine and
seltzer had been emphasized by Hegglund and all the
others. And yet Ratterer was taking it—a thing which made
his choice less conspicuous and, as he felt, less ridiculous.
“Will you listen to dis now?” exclaimed Hegglund,
dramatically. “He says he’ll have Rhine wine and seltzer,
too. I see where dis party breaks up at half-past eight, all
right, unless some of de rest of us do someting.”
And Davis Higby, who was far more trenchant and
roistering than his pleasant exterior gave any indication of,
turned to Ratterer and said: “Whatja want to start this Rhine
wine and seltzer stuff for, so soon, Tom? Dontcha want us
to have any fun at all to-night?”
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92
“Well, I told you why,” said Ratterer. “Besides, the last time I
went down to that joint I had forty bucks when I went in and
not a cent when I came out. I want to know what’s goin’ on
this time.”
“That joint,” thought Clyde on hearing it. Then, after this
supper, when they had all drunk and eaten enough, they
were going down to one of those places called a “joint”—a
bad-house, really. There was no doubt of it—he knew what
the word meant. There would be women there—bad women
—evil women. And he would be expected—could he—
would he?
For the first time in his life now, he found himself confronted
by a choice as to his desire for the more accurate
knowledge of the one great fascinating mystery that had for
so long confronted and fascinated and baffled and yet
frightened him a little. For, despite all his many thoughts in
regard to all this and women in general, he had never been
in contact with any one of them in this way. And now—now
—
All of a sudden he felt faint thrills of hot and cold racing up
and down his back and all over him. His hands and face
grew hot and then became moist—then his cheeks and
forehead flamed. He could feel them. Strange, swift,
enticing and yet disturbing thoughts raced in and out of his
consciousness. His hair tingled and he saw pictures—
bacchanalian scenes—which swiftly, and yet in vain, he
sought to put out of his mind. They would keep coming
back. And he wanted them to come back. Yet he did not.
And through it all he was now a little afraid. Pshaw! Had he
no courage at all? These other fellows were not disturbed
by the prospects of what was before them. They were very
gay. They were already beginning to laugh and kid one
another in regard to certain funny things that had happened
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93
the last time they were all out together. But what would his
mother think if she knew? His mother! He dared not think of
his mother or his father either at this time, and put them
both resolutely out of his mind.
“Oh, say, Kinsella,” called Higby. “Do you remember that
little red head in that Pacific Street joint that wanted you to
run away to Chicago with her?”
“Do I?” replied the amused Kinsella, taking up the Martini
that was just then served him. “She even wanted me to quit
the hotel game and let her start me in a business of some
kind. ‘I wouldn’t need to work at all if I stuck by her,’ she
told me.”
“Oh, no, you wouldn’t need to work at all, except one way,”
called Ratterer.
The waiter put down Clyde’s glass of Rhine wine and
seltzer beside him and, interested and intense and troubled
and fascinated by all that he heard, he picked it up, tasted it
and, finding it mild and rather pleasing, drank it all down at
once. And yet so wrought up were his thoughts that he
scarcely realized then that he had drunk it.
“Good for you,” observed Kinsella, in a most cordial tone.
“You must like that stuff.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” said Clyde.
And Hegglund, seeing how swiftly it had gone, and feeling
that Clyde, new to this world and green, needed to be
cheered and strengthened, called to the waiter: “Here Jerry!
One more of these, and make it a big one,” he whispered
behind his hand.
And so the dinner proceeded. And it was nearly eleven
before they had exhausted the various matters of interest to
them—stories of past affairs, past jobs, past feats of daring.
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94
And by then Clyde had had considerable time to meditate
on all of these youths—and he was inclined to think that he
was not nearly as green as they thought, or if so, at least
shrewder than most of them—of a better mentality, really.
For who were they and what were their ambitions?
Hegglund, as he could see, was vain and noisy and foolish
—a person who could be taken in and conciliated by a little
flattery. And Higby and Kinsella, interesting and attractive
boys both, were still vain of things he could not be proud of
—Higby of knowing a little something about automobiles—
he had an uncle in the business—Kinsella of gambling,
rolling dice even. And as for Ratterer and Shiel, he could
see and had noticed for some time, that they were content
with the bell-hop business—just continuing in that and
nothing more—a thing which he could not believe, even
now, would interest him forever.
At the same time, being confronted by this problem of how
soon they would be wanting to go to a place into which he
had never ventured before, and to be doing things which he
had never let himself think he would do in just this way, he
was just a little disturbed. Had he not better excuse himself
after they got outside, or perhaps, after starting along with
them in whatsoever direction they chose to go, quietly slip
away at some corner and return to his own home? For had
he not already heard that the most dreadful of diseases
were occasionally contracted in just such places—and that
men died miserable deaths later because of low vices
begun in this fashion? He could hear his mother lecturing
concerning all this—yet with scarcely any direct knowledge
of any kind. And yet, as an argument per contra, here were
all of these boys in nowise disturbed by what was in their
minds or moods to do. On the contrary, they were very gay
over it all and amused—nothing more.
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95
In fact, Ratterer, who was really very fond of Clyde by now,
more because of the way he looked and inquired and
listened than because of anything Clyde did or said, kept
nudging him with his elbow now and then, asking
laughingly, “How about it, Clyde? Going to be initiated to-
night?” and then smiling broadly. Or finding Clyde quite still
and thinking at times, “They won’t do more than bite you,
Clyde.”
And Hegglund, taking his cue from Ratterer and
occasionally desisting from his own self-glorifying diatribes,
would add: “You won’t ever be de same, Clyde. Dey never
are. But we’ll all be wid you in case of trouble.”
And Clyde, nervous and irritated, would retort: “Ah, cut it
out, you two. Quit kidding. What’s the use of trying to make
out that you know so much more than I do?”
And Ratterer would signal Hegglund with his eyes to let up
and would occasionally whisper to Clyde: “That’s all right,
old man, don’t get sore. You know we were just fooling,
that’s all.” And Clyde, very much drawn to Ratterer, would
relent and wish he were not so foolish as to show what he
actually was thinking about.
At last, however, by eleven o’clock, they had had their fill of