and opened it He took only banknotes, which he stowed away in his inner coat pocket drat he took all he could find. Then he closed the vault and locked it returned to the lavatory and wetted a towel and removed his heel prints from the linoleum floor. He passed out the rear door, threw the latch so it would lock behind him. The dock on the courthouse rang midnight
In an alley between two negro stores he found the negro whom he had met at noon, with a battered Ford car. He gave the negro a bill and the negro cranked the car and came and stared curiously at his torn trousers and the glint of white cloth beneath.“Whut happened, boss? Y’aint hurt, is you?”
“Run into some wire,” he answered shortly, and drove on. As he crossed the square he saw the night watchman, Buck, standing beneath the light before the post office, and cursed him with silent and bitter derision. He drove on and passed from view, and presently the sound of his going had died away.
He drove through Frenchman’s Bend at two o’clock, without stopping. The village was dark; Varner’s store, the blacksmith shop (now a garage too, with a gasoline pump), Mrs. Littlejohn’s huge, unpainted boarding house—all the remembered scenes of his boyhood—were without life; he went on. He drove now along a rutted wagon road, between swampy jungle, at a snail’s pace. After a half hour the road mounted a small knoll wooded with scrub oak and indiscriminate saplings, and faded into a barren,sun-baked surface in the middle of which squatted alow, broken-backed log house. His lights sweptacross its gaping front, and a huge gaunt hound descended from the porch and bellowed at him. Hestopped and switched the lights off.
His leg was stiff and dead, and when he descended he was forced to cling to the car for a time, moving it back and forth until it would bear his weight. The hound stood ten feet away and thundered at him in a sober conscientious fury until he spoke to it, whereupon it ceased its clamor but stood yet in an attitude of watchful belligerence. He limped toward it, and it recognized him and together they crossed the barren plot in the soundless dust and mounted the veranda. “Turpin,” he called in a guarded voice.
The dog had followed himonto the porch, and it flopped noisily and scratched itself . The house consisted of two wings joined by an open hall; through the hall he could see sky, and another warped roof tree on the slope behind the house. His leg tingled and throbbed as with pins of fire. I got that ‘ere bandage too tight, he thought. “Turpin.”
A movement from the wing at his left, and into the lesser obscurity of the hall a shape emerged and stood in vague relief against the sky, in a knee-length night-shirt and a shotgun. “Who’s thar?” the shape demanded
“Byron Snopes.”
The man leaned the gun against the wall and came onto the porch, and they shook hands limply. “What you doin’ this time of night? Thought you was in town.”
“On a trip for the bank,” Snopes explained. “Just drove in, and I got to git right on. Might be gone some time, and I wanted to see Minnie Sue.”
The other tabbed the wild shock of his head, then he scratched his leg. “She’s a-sleepin’. Caint you wait till daylight?”
“I got to git on,” he repeated. “Got to be pretty nigh Alabama by daybreak.”
The man brooded heavily, rubbing his flank,“Well,” he said finally, “ef you caint wait till
mawnin ’.” He padded back into the house and vanished. The hound flopped again at Snopes’ feet andsniffed noisily. From the river bottom a mile away anowl hooted with its mournful rising inflection.Snopes thrust his hand into his coat and touched thewadded delicate garment. In his breast pocket themoney bulked against his arm.
Another figure stepped soundlessly into .the hall, against the lighter sky; a smaller figure and even more shapeless, that stood for a moment, then came out to him. He put his arms around her, feeling her free body beneath the rough garment she had hastily donned. “Byron?”she said, “What is it, Byron?” He was trying to kiss her, and she suffered him readily, but withdrew her face immediately, peering at him. He drew her away from the door.
“Come on,” he whispered. His voice was shaking and hoarse, and his body was trembling also. He led her to the steps and tried to draw her on, but she held back a little, peering at him.
“Let’s set on the steps,” she said. “What’s the matter, Byron? You got a chill?”
“I’mallright.Let’s get away where we can talk.”
She let him draw her forward and down the steps, but as they moved further and further away from the house she began to resist, with curiosity and growing alarm. “Byron,” she said again and stopped. His hands were trembling upon her, moving abouther body, and his voice was shaking so that she could not understand him.
“You ain’t got on nothing under here but your nightgown, have you?” he whispered.
“What?” He drew her a little further, but she stopped firmly and he could not move her; she was as strong as he. “You tell me what it is, now,” she commanded.“You ain’t ready fer our marryin’ yet, are you?”
But he made no answer. He was trembling more than ever, pawing at her. They struggled, and at last he succeeded in dragging her to the ground and he sprawled beside her, pawing at her clothing; whereupon she struggled in earnest, and soon she held him helpless while he sprawled with his face against her throat, babbling a name not hers. When he was still she turned and thrust him away, and rose to her feet
“You come back tomorrer, when you git over this,” she said, and she ran silently toward the house, and was gone.
He sat whereshe had left him for a long time, with his half-insane face between his knees and madness and helpless rage and thwarted desire coiling within him. The owl hooted again from the black river bottom; its cry faded mournfully across the land, beneath the chill stars, and the hound came silently through the dust and sniffed at him, and went away. After a time he rose and limped to the car and started the engine.
FOUR
1
It was a sunny Sunday afternoon in October, Narcissa and Bayard had driven off soon after dinner, and Miss Jenny and did Bayard were sitting on the sunny end of the veranda when, preceded by Simon, the deputation came solemnly around the corner of the House from the rear. It consisted of six negroes in a catholic variety of Sunday raiment and it was headed by a huge, neckless negro in a Prince Albert coat and a hind-part-before collar, with an orotund air and a wild, compelling eye.
“Yere dey is, Cunnel,”Simon said, and without pausing he mounted the steps and faced the deputation, leaving no doubt in the beholder’s eye as to which side he was aligned with. The deputation halted and milled a little, solemnly decorous.
“What’s this?” Miss Jenny demanded. “That you, UncleBird?”
