“Though they do tell me,” said the little man, “there’s one of these preacher-factories there.”
“Is that a fact!”
“Yump. Say, Brother, this’ll make you laugh. Juh know what I thought when I seen you first—wearing that black suit and writing things down? I thought maybe you was a preacher yourself!”
“Well—”
God, he couldn’t stand it! Having to be so righteous every Sunday at Schoenheim—Deacon Bains everlastingly asking these fool questions about predestination or some doggone thing. Cer’nly had a vacation coming! And a sport like this fellow, he’d look down on you if you said you were a preacher.
The train was noisy. If any neighboring cock crowed three times, Elmer did not hear it as he rumbled:
“Well, for the love of Mike! Though—” In his most austere manner: “This black suit happens to be mourning for one very dear to me.”
“Oh, say, Brother, now you gotta excuse me! I’m always shooting my mouth off!”
“Oh, that’s all right.”
“Well, let’s shake, and I’ll know you don’t hold it against me.”
“You bet.”
From the little man came an odor of whisky which stirred Elmer powerfully. So long since he’d had a drink! Nothing for two months except a few nips of hard cider which Lulu had dutifully stolen for him from her father’s cask.
“Well, what is your line, Brother?” said the little man.
“I’m in the shoe game.”
“Well, that’s a fine game. Yes-sir, people do have to have shoes, no matter if they’re hard up or not. My name’s Ad Locust—Jesus, think of it, the folks named me Adney—can you beat that—ain’t that one hell of a name for a fellow that likes to get out with the boys and have a good time! But you can just call me Ad. I’m traveling for the Pequot Farm Implement Company. Great organization! Great bunch! Yes-sir, they’re great folks to work for, and hit it up, say! the sales-manager can drink more good liquor than any fellow that’s working for him, and, believe me, there’s some of us that ain’t so slow ourselves! Yes-sir, this fool idea that a lot of those fly-by-night firms are hollering about now, in the long run you don’t get no more by drinking with the dealers—All damn’ foolishness. They say this fellow Ford that makes these automobiles talks that way. Well, you mark my words: By 1910 he’ll be out of business, that’s what’ll happen to him; you mark my words! Yes-sir, they’re a great concern, the Pequot bunch. Matter of fact, we’re holding a sales-conference in Monarch next week.”
“Is that a fact!”
“Yes-sir, by golly, that’s what we’re doing. You know—read papers about how to get money out of a machinery dealer when he ain’t got any money. Heh! Hell of a lot of attention most of us boys’ll pay to that junk! We’re going to have a good time and get in a little good earnest drinking, and you bet the sales-manager will be right there with us! Say, Brother—I didn’t quite catch the name—”
“Elmer Gantry is my name. Mightly glad to meet you.”
“Mighty glad to know you, Elmer. Say, Elmer, I’ve got some of the best bourbon you or anybody else ever laid your face to right here in my hip pocket. I suppose you being in a highbrow business like the shoe business, you’d just about faint if I was to offer you a little something to cure that cough!”
“I guess I would, all right; yes-sir, I’d just about faint.”
“Well, you’re a pretty big fellow, and you ought to try to control yourself.”
“I’ll do my best, Ad, if you’ll hold my hand.”
“You betcha I will.” Ad brought out from his permanently sagging pocket a pint of Green River, and they drank together, reverently.
“Say, jever hear the toast about the sailor?” inquired Elmer. He felt very happy, at home with the loved ones after long and desolate wanderings.
“Dunno’s I ever did. Shoot!”
“Here’s to the lass in every port,
And here’s to the port-wine in every lass,
But those tall thoughts don’t matter, sport,
For God’s sake, waiter, fill my glass!”
The little man wriggled. “Well, sir, I never did hear that one! Say, that’s a knockout! By golly, that certainly is a knockout! Say, Elm, whacha doing in Monarch? Wancha meet some of the boys. The Pequot conference don’t really start till Monday, but some of us boys thought we’d kind of get together today and hold a little service of prayer and fasting before the rest of the galoots assemble. Like you to meet ’em. Best bunch of sports you ever saw, lemme tell you that! I’d like for you to meet ’em. And I’d like ’em to hear that toast. ‘Here’s to the port-wine in every lass.’ That’s pretty cute, all right! Whacha doing in Monarch? Can’t you come around to the Ishawonga Hotel and meet some of the boys when we get in?”
Mr. Ad Locust was not drunk; not exactly drunk; but he had earnestly applied himself to the bourbon and he was in a state of superb philanthropy. Elmer had taken enough to feel reasonable. He was hungry, too, not only for alcohol but for unsanctimonious companionship.
“I’ll tell you, Ad,” he said. “Nothing I’d like better, but I’ve got to meet a guy—important dealer—this afternoon, and he’s dead against all drinking. Fact—I certainly do appreciate your booze, but don’t know’s I ought to have taken a single drop.”
“Oh, hell, Elm, I’ve got some throat pastilles that are absolutely guaranteed to knock out the smell—absolutely. One lil drink wouldn’t do us any harm. Certainly would like to have the boys hear that toast of yours!”
“Well, I’ll sneak in for a second, and maybe I can foregather with you for a while late Sunday evening or Monday morning, but—”
“Aw, you ain’t going to let me down, Elm?”
“Well, I’ll telephone this guy, and fix it so’s I don’t have to see him till long ’bout three o’clock.”
“That’s great!”
III
From the Ishawonga Hotel, at noon, Elmer telephoned to the office of
