OCR Text |
Show page 230 ten thousand P h i l i s t i n e s , forgetting ten hours of sweat per day of relaid r a i l , eye b a l l i n g , prayercalling, for the hundred and ten, more than Fewky's store is worth, r o l l s 'em like two marbles. One stops on s i x , the other heads for Fewky's feet. "Goddamit, Fex^ky, get yo' gaiters out the way!" Size eleven g a i t e r s hold Fewky rooted. Die meets left foot gaiter and r e c o i l s in horror, stopping on one. Six and one, sixty-one highway, longest highway that anybody knows. Jabbo sxvoops on the money like a tomcat on a fishhead, and s p l i t s the door, into the darkness. Fewky i s off the floor, held in the air by Big Blue; gaiters and a l l up in the a i r . He's pleading for his l i f e. "Blue, Blue, don't do nothing wrong, you_be slipping and dodging the whole summer long! Fewky d i d n ' t go to do i t! Close that hawkbill and turn Fewky loose!" Blue fixes a bad crack with a solid good whack. He picks up Fewky's cutbox, f i l l s his pockets. "Big lip don't smother and the Government don't grant no loans," he says, closing his hawkbill. "Fewky, if you just bound to get in a ten-foot quandary with no ladder and supper coming up, you take your best Floorshines on dox*n and untie Billy Nabb. He might be ready for some c h i t l i n g s , Red Cap tobacco, or T-bone walker. As for me, I'm t r a v e l i n g ." The moon shines bright, lighting his way. A freight train is switching cars onto a siding. Out on the highway a long-haul t r a c t o r - t r a i l e r grinds into second gear. Blue bounds lithely across a ditch, s t a r t l i n g a stray cat. The cat slinks into |