The Man in Lonely Land | Page 2

water waitin'. They say now whiskey ain't no permanent cure
for colds, but it sure do help you think it is. Experience is better than
expoundin' and--"
Again Laine shook his head. "Get me some dry clothes," he said, then
went to the table and looked over the letters laid in a row upon it.
"Have a taxi-cab here by quarter past six and don't come in again until I
ring. I'm going to lie down."
A few minutes later, on a rug-covered couch, General on the floor
beside him, he was trying to sleep. He was strangely tired, and for a
while his only well-defined feeling was one of impatience at having to
go out. Why must people do so many things they don't want to do? He
put out his hand and smoothed softly General's long ears. Why couldn't
a man be let alone and allowed to live the way he preferred? Why--
"Quit it," he said, half aloud. "What isn't Why in life is Wherefore, and

guessing isn't your job. Go to sleep."
After a while he opened his eyes and looked around the book-lined
walls. When he first began to invest in books he could only buy one at
a time, and now there was no room for more. He wondered if there was
anything he could buy to-day that would give him the thrill his first
books had given. He had almost forgotten what a thrill could mean. But
who cared for books nowadays? The men and women he knew, with
few exceptions, wouldn't give a twist of their necks to see his, would as
soon think of reading them as of talking Dutch at a dinner-party, and
very probably they were right. Knowledge added little to human
happiness. Science and skill could do nothing for General. Poor
General! Again he smoothed the latter's head. For years he had barked
his good-bye in the morning, for years watched eagerly his coming,
paws on the window-sill as dusk grew on, for years leaped joyously to
meet him on his return, but he would do these things no longer. There
was no chance of betterment, and death would be a mercy--a painless
death which could be arranged. But he had said no, said it angrily when
the doctor so suggested, and had tried a new man, who was deceiving
him.
"You are all I have, General"--his hand traveled softly up and down the
length of the dog's back--"and somewhere you must wait for me. I've
got to stay on and play the game, and it's to be played straight, but
when it's called I sha'n't be sorry."
From a box on a table close to him he took a cigar, lighted it, and
watched its spirals of smoke curl upward. Life and the smoke that
vanisheth had much in common. On the whole, he had no grievance
against life. If it was proving a rather wearisome affair it was doubtless
his own fault, and yet this finding of himself alone at forty was hardly
what he had intended. There was something actually comic about it.
That for which he had striven had been secured, but for what? Success
unshared is of all things ironic, and soon not even General would be
here to greet him when the day's work was done. He blew out a thin
thread of smoke and followed its curvings with half-shut eyes. He had
made money, made it honestly, and it had brought him that which it
brought others, but if this were all life had to give--He threw his cigar
away, and as General's soft breathing reached him he clasped his hands
at the back of his head and stared up at the ceiling.

Why didn't he love his work as he used to? He had played fair, but to
play fair was to play against the odds, and there were times when he
hated the thing which made men fight as fiercely to-day as in the days
of the jungle, though they no longer sprang at each other's throats. On
the whole, he preferred the cavemen's method of attack. They at least
fought face to face. As for women--
He got up, stooped down, and patted General softly. "I'm sorry to leave
you, old man, but you'll sleep and I won't be long. Why Hope didn't
telephone what she wanted me to do, instead of beseeching me to come
to her that she might tell me, is beyond male understanding. But we
don't try to understand women, do we, General?"
The big brown eyes of the collie looked up in his master's face and in
them was beseeching adoration. With painful effort he laid first one
paw and then the other on Laine's hand, and as the latter stroked them
he barked feebly.