Marching Men | Page 7

he talked earnestly while he gesticulated
with his hands. "I hate this town," he said. "The men here think they are
confoundedly funny. They don't care for anything but making foolish
jokes and getting drunk. I want to go away." His voice rose and hatred
flamed up in him. "You wait," he boasted. "I'll make men stop being

fools. I'll make children of them. I'll----" Pausing he looked at his two
companions.
Beaut poked the ground with a stick. The boy sitting beside him
laughed. He was a short well--dressed black--haired boy with rings on
his fingers who worked in the town poolroom, racking the pool balls.
"I'd like to go where there are women with blood in them," he said.
Three women came up the hill toward them, a tall pale brown-haired
woman of twenty-seven and two fairer young girls. The black-haired
boy straightened his tie and began thinking of a conversation he would
start when the women reached him. Beaut and the other boy, a fat
fellow, the son of a grocer, looked down the hill to the town over the
heads of the newcomers and continued in their minds the thoughts that
had made the conversation.
"Hello girls, come and sit here," shouted the black-haired boy, laughing
and looking boldly into the eyes of the tall pale woman. They stopped
and the tall woman began stepping over the fallen logs, coming to them.
The two young girls followed, laughing. They sat down on the log
beside the boys, the tall pale woman at the end beside red-haired
McGregor. An embarrassed silence fell over the party. Both Beaut and
the fat boy were disconcerted by this turn to their afternoon's outing
and wondered how it would turn out.
The pale woman began to talk in a low tone. "I want to get away from
here," she said, "I wish I could hear birds sing and see green things
grow."
Beaut McGregor had an idea. "You come with me," he said. He got up
and climbed over the logs and the pale woman followed. The fat boy
shouted at them, relieving his own embarrassment by trying to
embarrass them. "Where're you going--you two?" he shouted.
Beaut said nothing. He stepped over the logs to the road and began
climbing the hill. The tall woman walked beside him and held her skirts
out of the deep dust of the road. Even on this her Sunday gown there
was a faint black mark along the seams--the mark of Coal Creek.

As McGregor walked his embarrassment left him. He thought it fine
that he should be thus alone with a woman. When she had tired from
the climb he sat with her on a log beside the road and talked of the
black-haired boy. "He has your ring on his finger," he said, looking at
her and laughing.
She held her hand pressed tightly against her side and closed her eyes.
"The climbing hurts me," she said.
Tenderness took hold of Beaut. When they went on again he walked
behind her, his hand upon her back pushing her up the hill. The desire
to tease her about the black-haired boy had passed and he wished he
had said nothing about the ring. He remembered the story the black-
haired boy had told him of his conquest of the woman. "More than
likely a mess of lies," he thought.
Over the crest of the hill they stopped and rested, leaning against a
worn rail fence by the woods. Below them in a wagon a party of men
went down the hill. The men sat upon boards laid across the box of a
wagon and sang a song. One of them stood in the seat beside the driver
and waved a bottle. He seemed to be making a speech. The others
shouted and clapped their hands. The sounds came faint and sharp up
the hill.
In the woods beside the fence rank grass grew. Hawks floated in the
sky over the valley below. A squirrel running along the fence stopped
and chattered at them. McGregor thought he had never had so
delightful a companion. He got a feeling of complete, good fellowship
and friendliness with this woman. Without knowing how the thing had
been done he felt a certain pride in it. "Don't mind what I said about the
ring," he urged, "I was only trying to tease you."
The woman beside McGregor was the daughter of an undertaker who
lived upstairs over his shop near the bakery. He had seen her in the
evening standing in the stairway by the shop door. After the story told
him by the black-haired boy he had been embarrassed about her. When
he passed her standing in the stairway he went hurriedly along and
looked into the gutter.

They went