Stories of a Western Town | Page 5

and that
made him feel bad. The next time it was the same, that time he jumped
into the cistern ----"
"Yes, I know," said Olsen, with a half grin, "I pulled him out."
"It was the razor he wanted," the wife continued, "and when he come
home and says he was going to leave the shop and he aint never going
back there, and gets out his razor and sharps it, I knowed what that
meant and I told him I got to have some bluing and wouldn't he go and
get it? and he says, 'You won't git another husband run so free on your
errands, Thekla,' and I says I don't want none; and when he was gone I

hid the razor and he couldn't find it, but that didn't mad him, he didn't
say notings; and when I went to git the supper he walked out in the
yard and jumped into the cistern, and I heard the splash and looked in
and there he was trying to git his head under, and I called, 'For the
Lord's sake, papa! For the Lord's sake!' just like that. And I fished for
him with the pole that stood there and he was sorry and caught hold of
it and give in, and I rested the pole agin the side cause I wasn't strong
enough to h'ist him out; and he held on whilest I run for help ----"
"And I got the ladder and he clum out," said the giant with another grin
of recollection, "he was awful wet!"
"That was a month ago," said the wife, solemnly.
"He sharped the razor onct," said Mrs. Lieders, "but he said it was for
to shave him, and I got him to promise to let the barber shave him
sometime, instead. Here, Mrs. Olsen, you go righd in, the door aint
locked."
By this time they were at the house door. They passed in and ascended
the stairs to the second story, then climbed a narrow, ladder-like flight
to the garret. Involuntarily they had paused to listen at the foot of the
stairs, but it was very quiet, not a sound of movement, not so much as
the sigh of a man breathing. The wife turned pale and put both her
shaking hands on her heart.
"Guess he's trying to scare us by keeping quiet!" said Olsen, cheerfully,
and he stumbled up the stairs, in advance. "Thunder!" he exclaimed, on
the last stair, "well, we aint any too quick."
In fact Carl had nearly fallen over the master of the house, that
enterprising self-destroyer having contrived, pinioned as he was, to roll
over to the very brink of the stair well, with the plain intent to break his
neck by plunging headlong.
In the dim light all that they could see was a small, old man whose
white hair was strung in wisps over his purple face, whose deep set
eyes glared like the eyes of a rat in a trap, and whose very elbows and

knees expressed in their cramps the fury of an outraged soul. When he
saw the new-comers he shut his eyes and his jaws.
"Well, Mr. Lieders," said Olsen, mildly, "I guess you better git
down-stairs. Kin I help you up?"
"No," said Lieders.
"Will I give you an arm to lean on?"
"No."
"Won't you go at all, Mr. Lieders?"
"No."
Olsen shook his head. "I hate to trouble you, Mr. Lieders," said he in
his slow, undecided tones, "please excuse me," with which he gathered
up the little man into his strong arms and slung him over his shoulders,
as easily as he would sling a sack of meal. It was a vent for Mrs.
Olsen's bubbling indignation to make a dive for Lieders's heels and
hold them, while Carl backed down-stairs. But Lieders did not make
the least resistance. He allowed them to carry him into the room
indicated by his wife, and to lay him bound on the plump feather bed. It
was not his bedroom but the sacred "spare room," and the bed was part
of its luxury. Thekla ran in, first, to remove the embroidered pillow
shams and the dazzling, silken "crazy quilt" that was her choicest
possession.
Safely in the bed, Lieders opened his eyes and looked from one face to
the other, his lip curling. "You can't keep me this way all the time. I can
do it in spite of you," said he.
"Well, I think you had ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Lieders!"
Mrs. Olsen burst out, in a tremble between wrath and exertion, shaking
her little, plump fist at him.
But the placid Carl only nodded, as in sympathy, saying, "Well, I am

sorry you feel so bad, Mr. Lieders. I guess we got