Chapter 11

by Frank Norris

　　On that particular morning the McTeagues had risen a halfhour earlier than usual and taken a hurried breakfast in thekitchen on the deal table with its oilcloth cover. Trinawas house-cleaning that week and had a presentiment of ahard day's work ahead of her, while McTeague remembered aseven o'clock appointment with a little German shoemaker.At about eight o'clock, when the dentist had been in hisoffice for over an hour, Trina descended upon the bedroom, atowel about her head and the roller-sweeper in her hand.She covered the bureau and sewing machine with sheets, andunhooked the chenille portieres between the bedroom and thesitting-room. As she was tying the Nottingham lace curtainsat the window into great knots, she saw old Miss Baker onthe opposite sidewalk in the street below, and raising thesash called down to her."Oh, it's you, Mrs. McTeague," cried the retired dressmaker,facing about, her head in the air. Then a long conversationwas begun, Trina, her arms folded under her breast, herelbows resting on the window ledge, willing to be idle for amoment; old Miss Baker, her market-basket on her arm, herhands wrapped in the ends of her worsted shawl againstthe cold of the early morning. They exchanged phrases,calling to each other from window to curb, their breathcoming from their lips in faint puffs of vapor, their voicesshrill, and raised to dominate the clamor of the wakingstreet. The newsboys had made their appearance on thestreet, together with the day laborers. The cable cars hadbegun to fill up; all along the street could be seen theshopkeepers taking down their shutters; some were stillbreakfasting. Now and then a waiter from one of the cheaprestaurants crossed from one sidewalk to another, balancingon one palm a tray covered with a napkin."Aren't you out pretty early this morning, Miss Baker?"called Trina."No, no," answered the other. "I'm always up at half-pastsix, but I don't always get out so soon. I wanted to get anice head of cabbage and some lentils for a soup, and if youdon't go to market early, the restaurants get all the best.""And you've been to market already, Miss Baker?""Oh, my, yes; and I got a fish--a sole--see." She drew thesole in question from her basket."Oh, the lovely sole!" exclaimed Trina."I got this one at Spadella's; he always has good fish onFriday. How is the doctor, Mrs. McTeague?""Ah, Mac is always well, thank you, Miss Baker.""You know, Mrs. Ryer told me," cried the little dressmaker,moving forward a step out of the way of a "glass-put-in"man, "that Doctor McTeague pulled a tooth of that Catholicpriest, Father--oh, I forget his name--anyhow, he pulled histooth with his fingers. Was that true, Mrs. McTeague?""Oh, of course. Mac does that almost all the time now,'specially with front teeth. He's got a regular reputationfor it. He says it's brought him more patients than eventhe sign I gave him," she added, pointing to the big goldenmolar projecting from the office window."With his fingers! Now, think of that," exclaimed MissBaker, wagging her head. "Isn't he that strong! It's justwonderful. Cleaning house to-day?" she inquired,glancing at Trina's towelled head."Um hum," answered Trina. "Maria Macapa's coming in to helppretty soon."At the mention of Maria's name the little old dressmakersuddenly uttered an exclamation."Well, if I'm not here talking to you and forgettingsomething I was just dying to tell you. Mrs. McTeague, whatever in the world do you suppose? Maria and old Zerkow,that red-headed Polish Jew, the rag-bottles-sacks man, youknow, they're going to be married.""No!" cried Trina, in blank amazement. "You don't mean it.""Of course I do. Isn't it the funniest thing you ever heardof?""Oh, tell me all about it," said Trina, leaning eagerly fromthe window. Miss Baker crossed the street and stood justbeneath her."Well, Maria came to me last night and wanted me to make hera new gown, said she wanted something gay, like what thegirls at the candy store wear when they go out with theiryoung men. I couldn't tell what had got into the girl,until finally she told me she wanted something to getmarried in, and that Zerkow had asked her to marry him, andthat she was going to do it. Poor Maria! I guess it's thefirst and only offer she ever received, and it's just turnedher head.""But what do those two see in each other?" cried Trina."Zerkow is a horror, he's an old man, and his hair is redand his voice is gone, and then he's a Jew, isn't he?""I know, I know; but it's Maria's only chance for a husband,and she don't mean to let it pass. You know she isn't quiteright in her head, anyhow. I'm awfully sorry for poorMaria. But I can't see what Zerkow wants to marry herfor. It's not possible that he's in love with Maria, it'sout of the question. Maria hasn't a sou, either, and I'mjust positive that Zerkow has lots of money.""I'll bet I know why," exclaimed Trina, with suddenconviction; "yes, I know just why. See here, Miss Baker,you know how crazy old Zerkow is after money and goldand those sort of things.""Yes, I know; but you know Maria hasn't----""Now, just listen. You've heard Maria tell about thatwonderful service of gold dishes she says her folks used toown in Central America; she's crazy on that subject, don'tyou know. She's all right on everything else, but juststart her on that service of gold plate and she'll talk youdeaf. She can describe it just as though she saw it, andshe can make you see it, too, almost. Now, you see, Mariaand Zerkow have known each other pretty well. Maria goes tohim every two weeks or so to sell him junk; they gotacquainted that way, and I know Maria's been dropping in tosee him pretty often this last year, and sometimes he comeshere to see her. He's made Maria tell him the story of thatplate over and over and over again, and Maria does it and isglad to, because he's the only one that believes it. Nowhe's going to marry her just so's he can hear that storyevery day, every hour. He's pretty near as crazy on thesubject as Maria is. They're a pair for you, aren't they?Both crazy over a lot of gold dishes that never existed.Perhaps Maria'll marry him because it's her only chance toget a husband, but I'm sure it's more for the reason thatshe's got some one to talk to now who believes her story.Don't you think I'm right?""Yes, yes, I guess you're right," admitted Miss Baker."But it's a queer match anyway you put it," said Trina,musingly."Ah, you may well say that," returned the other, nodding herhead. There was a silence. For a long moment the dentist'swife and the retired dressmaker, the one at the window, theother on the sidewalk, remained lost in thought, wonderingover the strangeness of the affair.But suddenly there was a diversion. Alexander, MarcusSchouler's Irish setter, whom his master had long sinceallowed the liberty of running untrammelled about theneighborhood, turned the corner briskly and came trottingalong the sidewalk where Miss Baker stood. At the samemoment the Scotch collie who had at one time belongedto the branch post-office issued from the side door of ahouse not fifty feet away. In an instant the two enemieshad recognized each other. They halted abruptly, their forefeet planted rigidly. Trina uttered a little cry."Oh, look out, Miss Baker. Those two dogs hate each otherjust like humans. You best look out. They'll fight sure."Miss Baker sought safety in a nearby vestibule, whence shepeered forth at the scene, very interested and curious.Maria Macapa's head thrust itself from one of the top-storywindows of the flat, with a shrill cry. Even McTeague'shuge form appeared above the half curtains of the "Parlor"windows, while over his shoulder could be seen the face ofthe "patient," a napkin tucked in his collar, the rubber damdepending from his mouth. All the flat knew of the feudbetween the dogs, but never before had the pair been broughtface to face.Meanwhile, the collie and the setter had drawn near to eachother; five feet apart they paused as if by mutual consent.The collie turned sidewise to the setter; the setterinstantly wheeled himself flank on to the collie. Theirtails rose and stiffened, they raised their lips over theirlong white fangs, the napes of their necks bristled, andthey showed each other the vicious whites of their eyes,while they drew in their breaths with prolonged and raspingsnarls. Each dog seemed to be the personification of furyand unsatisfied hate. They began to circle about each otherwith infinite slowness, walking stiffed-legged and upon thevery points of their feet. Then they wheeled about andbegan to circle in the opposite direction. Twice theyrepeated this motion, their snarls growing louder. Butstill they did not come together, and the distance of fivefeet between them was maintained with an almost mathematicalprecision. It was magnificent, but it was not war. Thenthe setter, pausing in his walk, turned his head slowly fromhis enemy. The collie sniffed the air and pretended aninterest in an old shoe lying in the gutter. Gradually andwith all the dignity of monarchs they moved away from eachother. Alexander stalked back to the corner of the street.The collie paced toward the side gate whence he hadissued, affecting to remember something of great importance.They disappeared. Once out of sight of one another theybegan to bark furiously."Well, I never!" exclaimed Trina in great disgust. "Theway those two dogs have been carrying on you'd 'a' thoughtthey would 'a' just torn each other to pieces when they hadthe chance, and here I'm wasting the whole morning----" sheclosed her window with a bang."Sick 'im, sick 'im," called Maria Macapa, in a vain attemptto promote a fight.Old Miss Baker came out of the vestibule, pursing her lips,quite put out at the fiasco. "And after all that fuss," shesaid to herself aggrievedly.The little dressmaker bought an envelope of nasturtium seedsat the florist's, and returned to her tiny room in the flat.But as she slowly mounted the first flight of steps shesuddenly came face to face with Old Grannis, who was comingdown. It was between eight and nine, and he was on his wayto his little dog hospital, no doubt. Instantly Miss Bakerwas seized with trepidation, her curious little false curlsshook, a faint--a very faint--flush came into her witheredcheeks, and her heart beat so violently under the worstedshawl that she felt obliged to shift the market-basket toher other arm and put out her free hand to steady herselfagainst the rail.On his part, Old Grannis was instantly overwhelmed withconfusion. His awkwardness seemed to paralyze his limbs,his lips twitched and turned dry, his hand went tremblinglyto his chin. But what added to Miss Baker's miserableembarrassment on this occasion was the fact that the oldEnglishman should meet her thus, carrying a sordid market-basket full of sordid fish and cabbage. It seemed as if amalicious fate persisted in bringing the two old people faceto face at the most inopportune moments.Just now, however, a veritable catastrophe occurred. Thelittle old dressmaker changed her basket to her other arm atprecisely the wrong moment, and Old Grannis, hastening topass, removing his hat in a hurried salutation, struck itwith his fore arm, knocking it from her grasp, andsending it rolling and bumping down the stairs. The solefell flat upon the first landing; the lentils scatteredthemselves over the entire flight; while the cabbage,leaping from step to step, thundered down the incline andbrought up against the street door with a shock thatreverberated through the entire building.The little retired dressmaker, horribly vexed, nervous andembarrassed, was hard put to it to keep back the tears. OldGrannis stood for a moment with averted eyes, murmuring:"Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. I--I really--I beg yourpardon, really--really."Marcus Schouler, coming down stairs from his room, saved thesituation."Hello, people," he cried. "By damn! you've upset yourbasket--you have, for a fact. Here, let's pick um up." Heand Old Grannis went up and down the flight, gathering upthe fish, the lentils, and the sadly battered cabbage.Marcus was raging over the pusillanimity of Alexander, ofwhich Maria had just told him."I'll cut him in two--with the whip," he shouted. "I will,I will, I say I will, for a fact. He wouldn't fight, hey?I'll give um all the fight he wants, nasty, mangy cur. Ifhe won't fight he won't eat. I'm going to get the butcher'sbull pup and I'll put um both in a bag and shake um up. Iwill, for a fact, and I guess Alec will fight. Come along,Mister Grannis," and he took the old Englishman away.Little Miss Baker hastened to her room and locked herselfin. She was excited and upset during all the rest of theday, and listened eagerly for Old Grannis's return thatevening. He went instantly to work binding up "The Breederand Sportsman," and back numbers of the "Nation." She heardhim softly draw his chair and the table on which he hadplaced his little binding apparatus close to the wall. Atonce she did the same, brewing herself a cup of tea. Allthrough that evening the two old people "kept company" witheach other, after their own peculiar fashion. "Setting outwith each other" Miss Baker had begun to call it. That theyhad been presented, that they had even been forced totalk together, had made no change in their relativepositions. Almost immediately they had fallen back intotheir old ways again, quite unable to master their timidity,to overcome the stifling embarrassment that seized upon themwhen in each other's presence. It was a sort of hypnotism,a thing stronger than themselves. But they were notaltogether dissatisfied with the way things had come to be.It was their little romance, their last, and they wereliving through it with supreme enjoyment and calmcontentment.Marcus Schouler still occupied his old room on the floorabove the McTeagues. They saw but little of him, however.At long intervals the dentist or his wife met him on thestairs of the flat. Sometimes he would stop and talk withTrina, inquiring after the Sieppes, asking her if Mr. Sieppehad yet heard of any one with whom he, Marcus, could "go inwith on a ranch." McTeague, Marcus merely nodded to. Neverhad the quarrel between the two men been completely patchedup. It did not seem possible to the dentist now that Marcushad ever been his "pal," that they had ever taken long walkstogether. He was sorry that he had treated Marcus gratisfor an ulcerated tooth, while Marcus daily recalled the factthat he had given up his "girl" to his friend--the girl whohad won a fortune--as the great mistake of his life. Onlyonce since the wedding had he called upon Trina, at a timewhen he knew McTeague would be out. Trina had shown himthrough the rooms and had told him, innocently enough, howgay was their life there. Marcus had come away fairly sickwith envy; his rancor against the dentist--and againsthimself, for that matter--knew no bounds. "And you might'a' had it all yourself, Marcus Schouler," he muttered tohimself on the stairs. "You mushhead, you damn fool!"Meanwhile, Marcus was becoming involved in the politics ofhis ward. As secretary of the Polk Street Improvement Club--which soon developed into quite an affair and began toassume the proportions of a Republican political machine--hefound he could make a little, a very little more than enoughto live on. At once he had given up his position as OldGrannis's assistant in the dog hospital. Marcus feltthat he needed a wider sphere. He had his eye upon a placeconnected with the city pound. When the great railroadstrike occurred, he promptly got himself engaged as deputy-sheriff, and spent a memorable week in Sacramento, where heinvolved himself in more than one terrible melee with thestrikers. Marcus had that quickness of temper andpassionate readiness to take offence which passes among hisclass for bravery. But whatever were his motives, hispromptness to face danger could not for a moment be doubted.After the strike he returned to Polk Street, and throwinghimself into the Improvement Club, heart, soul, and body,soon became one of its ruling spirits. In a certain localelection, where a huge paving contract was at stake, theclub made itself felt in the ward, and Marcus so managed hiscards and pulled his wires that, at the end of the matter,he found himself some four hundred dollars to the good.When McTeague came out of his "Parlors" at noon of the dayupon which Trina had heard the news of Maria Macapa'sintended marriage, he found Trina burning coffee on a shovelin the sitting-room. Try as she would, Trina could neverquite eradicate from their rooms a certain faint andindefinable odor, particularly offensive to her. The smellof the photographer's chemicals persisted in spite of allTrina could do to combat it. She burnt pastilles andChinese punk, and even, as now, coffee on a shovel, all tono purpose. Indeed, the only drawback to their delightfulhome was the general unpleasant smell that pervaded it--asmell that arose partly from the photographer's chemicals,partly from the cooking in the little kitchen, and partlyfrom the ether and creosote of the dentist's "Parlors."As McTeague came in to lunch on this occasion, he found thetable already laid, a red cloth figured with white flowerswas spread, and as he took his seat his wife put down theshovel on a chair and brought in the stewed codfish and thepot of chocolate. As he tucked his napkin into his enormouscollar, McTeague looked vaguely about the room, rolling hiseyes.During the three years of their married life the McTeagueshad made but few additions to their furniture, Trinadeclaring that they could not afford it. The sitting-room could boast of but three new ornaments. Over themelodeon hung their marriage certificate in a black frame.It was balanced upon one side by Trina's wedding bouquetunder a glass case, preserved by some fearful unknownprocess, and upon the other by the photograph of Trina andthe dentist in their wedding finery. This latter picturewas quite an affair, and had been taken immediately afterthe wedding, while McTeague's broadcloth was still new, andbefore Trina's silks and veil had lost their stiffness. Itrepresented Trina, her veil thrown back, sitting verystraight in a rep armchair, her elbows well in at her sides,holding her bouquet of cut flowers directly before her. Thedentist stood at her side, one hand on her shoulder, theother thrust into the breast of his "Prince Albert," hischin in the air, his eyes to one side, his left foot forwardin the attitude of a statue of a Secretary of State."Say, Trina," said McTeague, his mouth full of codfish,"Heise looked in on me this morning. He says 'What's thematter with a basket picnic over at Schuetzen Park nextTuesday?' You know the paper-hangers are going to be in the"Parlors" all that day, so I'll have a holiday. That's whatmade Heise think of it. Heise says he'll get the Ryers to gotoo. It's the anniversary of their wedding day. We'll askSelina to go; she can meet us on the other side. Come on,let's go, huh, will you?"Trina still had her mania for family picnics, which had beenone of the Sieppes most cherished customs; but now therewere other considerations."I don't know as we can afford it this month, Mac," shesaid, pouring the chocolate. "I got to pay the gas billnext week, and there's the papering of your office to bepaid for some time.""I know, I know," answered her husband. "But I got a newpatient this week, had two molars and an upper incisorfilled at the very first sitting, and he's going to bringhis children round. He's a barber on the next block.""Well you pay half, then," said Trina. "It'll cost three orfour dollars at the very least; and mind, the Heises paytheir own fare both ways, Mac, and everybody gets theirown lunch. Yes," she added, after a pause, "I'll writeand have Selina join us. I haven't seen Selina in months.I guess I'll have to put up a lunch for her, though,"admitted Trina, "the way we did last time, because she livesin a boarding-house now, and they make a fuss about puttingup a lunch."They could count on pleasant weather at this time of theyear--it was May--and that particular Tuesday was all thatcould be desired. The party assembled at the ferry slip atnine o'clock, laden with baskets. The McTeagues came lastof all; Ryer and his wife had already boarded the boat.They met the Heises in the waiting-room."Hello, Doctor," cried the harness-maker as the McTeaguescame up. "This is what you'd call an old folks' picnic, allmarried people this time."The party foregathered on the upper deck as the boatstarted, and sat down to listen to the band of Italianmusicians who were playing outside this morning because ofthe fineness of the weather."Oh, we're going to have lots of fun," cried Trina. "Ifit's anything I do love it's a picnic. Do you remember ourfirst picnic, Mac?""Sure, sure," replied the dentist; "we had a Gotha truffle.""And August lost his steamboat, put in Trina, "and papasmacked him. I remember it just as well.""Why, look there," said Mrs. Heise, nodding at a figurecoming up the companion-way. "Ain't that Mr. Schouler?"It was Marcus, sure enough. As he caught sight of the partyhe gaped at them a moment in blank astonishment, and thenran up, his eyes wide."Well, by damn!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "What's up?Where you all going, anyhow? Say, ain't ut queer we shouldall run up against each other like this?" He made greatsweeping bows to the three women, and shook hands with"Cousin Trina," adding, as he turned to the men of theparty, "Glad to see you, Mister Heise. How do, MisterRyer?" The dentist, who had formulated some sort ofreserved greeting, he ignored completely. McTeaguesettled himself in his seat, growling inarticulatelybehind his mustache."Say, say, what's all up, anyhow?" cried Marcus again."It's a picnic," exclaimed the three women, all speaking atonce; and Trina added, "We're going over to the same oldSchuetzen Park again. But you're all fixed up yourself,Cousin Mark; you look as though you were going somewhereyourself."In fact, Marcus was dressed with great care. He wore a newpair of slate-blue trousers, a black "cutaway," and a whitelawn "tie" (for him the symbol of the height of elegance).He carried also his cane, a thin wand of ebony with a goldhead, presented to him by the Improvement Club in"recognition of services.""That's right, that's right," said Marcus, with a grin."I'm takun a holiday myself to-day. I had a bit of businessto do over at Oakland, an' I thought I'd go up to B Streetafterward and see Selina. I haven't called on----"But the party uttered an exclamation."Why, Selina is going with us.""She's going to meet us at the Schuetzen Park station"explained Trina.Marcus's business in Oakland was a fiction. He was crossingthe bay that morning solely to see Selina. Marcus had"taken up with" Selina a little after Trina had married, andhad been "rushing" her ever since, dazzled and attracted byher accomplishments, for which he pretended a great respect.At the prospect of missing Selina on this occasion, he wasgenuinely disappointed. His vexation at once assumed theform of exasperation against McTeague. It was all thedentist's fault. Ah, McTeague was coming between him andSelina now as he had come between him and Trina. Best lookout, by damn! how he monkeyed with him now. Instantly hisface flamed and he glanced over furiously at the dentist,who, catching his eye, began again to mutter behind hismustache."Well, say," began Mrs. Ryer, with some hesitation, lookingto Ryer for approval, "why can't Marcus come along with us?""Why, of course," exclaimed Mrs. Heise, disregarding herhusband's vigorous nudges. "I guess we got lunchenough to go round, all right; don't you say so, Mrs.McTeague?"Thus appealed to, Trina could only concur."Why, of course, Cousin Mark," she said; "of course, comealong with us if you want to.""Why, you bet I will," cried Marcus, enthusiastic in aninstant. "Say, this is outa sight; it is, for a fact; apicnic--ah, sure--and we'll meet Selina at the station."Just as the boat was passing Goat Island, the harness-makerproposed that the men of the party should go down to the baron the lower deck and shake for the drinks. The idea had animmediate success."Have to see you on that," said Ryer."By damn, we'll have a drink! Yes, sir, we will, for afact.""Sure, sure, drinks, that's the word."At the bar Heise and Ryer ordered cocktails, Marcus calledfor a "creme Yvette" in order to astonish the others. Thedentist spoke for a glass of beer."Say, look here," suddenly exclaimed Heise as they tooktheir glasses. "Look here, you fellahs," he had turned toMarcus and the dentist. "You two fellahs have had a grouchat each other for the last year or so; now what's the matterwith your shaking hands and calling quits?"McTeague was at once overcome with a great feeling ofmagnanimity. He put out his great hand."I got nothing against Marcus," he growled."Well, I don't care if I shake," admitted Marcus, a littleshamefacedly, as their palms touched. "I guess that's allright.""That's the idea," exclaimed Heise, delighted at hissuccess. "Come on, boys, now let's drink." Their elbowscrooked and they drank silently.Their picnic that day was very jolly. Nothing had changedat Schuetzen Park since the day of that other memorableSieppe picnic four years previous. After lunch the men tookthemselves off to the rifle range, while Selina, Trina, andthe other two women put away the dishes. An hour later themen joined them in great spirits. Ryer had won theimpromptu match which they had arranged, making quite awonderful score, which included three clean bulls' eyes,while McTeague had not been able even to hit the targetitself.Their shooting match had awakened a spirit of rivalry in themen, and the rest of the afternoon was passed in athleticexercises between them. The women sat on the slope of thegrass, their hats and gloves laid aside, watching the men asthey strove together. Aroused by the little feminine criesof wonder and the clapping of their ungloved palms, theselatter began to show off at once. They took off their coatsand vests, even their neckties and collars, and workedthemselves into a lather of perspiration for the sake ofmaking an impression on their wives. They ran hundred-yardsprints on the cinder path and executed clumsy feats on therings and on the parallel bars. They even found a hugeround stone on the beach and "put the shot" for a while. Aslong as it was a question of agility, Marcus was easily thebest of the four; but the dentist's enormous strength, hiscrude, untutored brute force, was a matter of wonder for theentire party. McTeague cracked English walnuts--taken fromthe lunch baskets--in the hollow of his arm, and tossed theround stone a full five feet beyond their best mark. Heisebelieved himself to be particularly strong in the wrists,but the dentist, using but one hand, twisted a cane out ofHeise's two with a wrench that all but sprained the harness-maker's arm. Then the dentist raised weights and chinnedhimself on the rings till they thought he would never tire.His great success quite turned his head; he strutted backand forth in front of the women, his chest thrown out, andhis great mouth perpetually expanded in a triumphant grin.As he felt his strength more and more, he began to abuse it;he domineered over the others, gripping suddenly at theirarms till they squirmed with pain, and slapping Marcus onthe back so that he gasped and gagged for breath. Thechildish vanity of the great fellow was as undisguised asthat of a schoolboy. He began to tell of wonderful feats ofstrength he had accomplished when he was a young man. Why,at one time he had knocked down a half-grown heifer witha blow of his fist between the eyes, sure, and theheifer had just stiffened out and trembled all over and diedwithout getting up.McTeague told this story again, and yet again. All throughthe afternoon he could be overheard relating the wonder toany one who would listen, exaggerating the effect of hisblow, inventing terrific details. Why, the heifer had justfrothed at the mouth, and his eyes had rolled up--ah, sure,his eyes rolled up just like that--and the butcher had saidhis skull was all mashed in--just all mashed in, sure,that's the word--just as if from a sledge-hammer.Notwithstanding his reconciliation with the dentist on theboat, Marcus's gorge rose within him at McTeague's boastingswagger. When McTeague had slapped him on the back, Marcushad retired to some little distance while he recovered hisbreath, and glared at the dentist fiercely as he strode upand down, glorying in the admiring glances of the women."Ah, one-horse dentist," he muttered between his teeth."Ah, zinc-plugger, cow-killer, I'd like to show you once,you overgrown mucker, you--you--cow-killer!"When he rejoined the group, he found them preparing for awrestling bout."I tell you what," said Heise, "we'll have a tournament.Marcus and I will rastle, and Doc and Ryer, and then thewinners will rastle each other."The women clapped their hands excitedly. This would beexciting. Trina cried:"Better let me hold your money, Mac, and your keys, so asyou won't lose them out of your pockets." The men gavetheir valuables into the keeping of their wives and promptlyset to work.The dentist thrust Ryer down without even changing his grip;Marcus and the harness-maker struggled together for a fewmoments till Heise all at once slipped on a bit of turf andfell backwards. As they toppled over together, Marcuswrithed himself from under his opponent, and, as theyreached the ground, forced down first one shoulder and thenthe other."All right, all right," panted the harness-maker, good-naturedly, "I'm down. It's up to you and Doc now," headded, as he got to his feet.The match between McTeague and Marcus promised to beinteresting. The dentist, of course, had an enormousadvantage in point of strength, but Marcus prided himself onhis wrestling, and knew something about strangle-holds andhalf-Nelsons. The men drew back to allow them a free spaceas they faced each other, while Trina and the other womenrose to their feet in their excitement."I bet Mac will throw him, all the same," said Trina."All ready!" cried Ryer.The dentist and Marcus stepped forward, eyeing each othercautiously. They circled around the impromptu ring. Marcuswatching eagerly for an opening. He ground his teeth,telling himself he would throw McTeague if it killed him.Ah, he'd show him now. Suddenly the two men caught at eachother; Marcus went to his knees. The dentist threw his vastbulk on his adversary's shoulders and, thrusting a huge palmagainst his face, pushed him backwards and downwards. Itwas out of the question to resist that enormous strength.Marcus wrenched himself over and fell face downward on theground.McTeague rose on the instant with a great laugh ofexultation."You're down!" he exclaimed.Marcus leaped to his feet."Down nothing," he vociferated, with clenched fists. "Downnothing, by damn! You got to throw me so's my shoulderstouch.McTeague was stalking about, swelling with pride."Hoh, you're down. I threw you. Didn't I throw him, Trina?Hoh, you can't rastle me."Marcus capered with rage."You didn't! you didn't! you didn't! and you can't! You gotto give me another try."The other men came crowding up. Everybody was talking atonce."He's right.""You didn't throw him.""Both his shoulders at the same time."Trina clapped and waved her hand at McTeague from where shestood on the little slope of lawn above the wrestlers.Marcus broke through the group, shaking all over withexcitement and rage."I tell you that ain't the way to rastle. You've got tothrow a man so's his shoulders touch. You got to give meanother bout.""That's straight," put in Heise, "both his shoulders down atthe same time. Try it again. You and Schouler have anothertry."McTeague was bewildered by so much simultaneous talk. Hecould not make out what it was all about. Could he haveoffended Marcus again?"What? What? Huh? What is it?" he exclaimed inperplexity, looking from one to the other."Come on, you must rastle me again," shouted Marcus."Sure, sure," cried the dentist. "I'll rastle you again.I'll rastle everybody," he cried, suddenly struck with anidea. Trina looked on in some apprehension."Mark gets so mad," she said, half aloud."Yes," admitted Selina. "Mister Schouler's got an awfulquick temper, but he ain't afraid of anything.""All ready!" shouted Ryer.This time Marcus was more careful. Twice, as McTeaguerushed at him, he slipped cleverly away. But as the dentistcame in a third time, with his head bowed, Marcus, raisinghimself to his full height, caught him with both arms aroundthe neck. The dentist gripped at him and rent away thesleeve of his shirt. There was a great laugh."Keep your shirt on," cried Mrs. Ryer.The two men were grappling at each other wildly. The partycould hear them panting and grunting as they labored andstruggled. Their boots tore up great clods of turf.Suddenly they came to the ground with a tremendous shock.But even as they were in the act of falling, Marcus,like a very eel, writhed in the dentist's clasp and fellupon his side. McTeague crashed down upon him like thecollapse of a felled ox."Now, you gotta turn him on his back," shouted Heise to thedentist. "He ain't down if you don't."With his huge salient chin digging into Marcus's shoulder,the dentist heaved and tugged. His face was flaming, hishuge shock of yellow hair fell over his forehead, mattedwith sweat. Marcus began to yield despite his franticefforts. One shoulder was down, now the other began to go;gradually, gradually it was forced over. The littleaudience held its breath in the suspense of the moment.Selina broke the silence, calling out shrilly:"Ain't Doctor McTeague just that strong!"Marcus heard it, and his fury came instantly to a head.Rage at his defeat at the hands of the dentist and beforeSelina's eyes, the hate he still bore his old-time "pal" andthe impotent wrath of his own powerlessness were suddenlyunleashed."God damn you! get off of me," he cried under his breath,spitting the words as a snake spits its venom. The littleaudience uttered a cry. With the oath Marcus had twistedhis head and had bitten through the lobe of the dentist'sear. There was a sudden flash of bright-red blood.Then followed a terrible scene. The brute that in McTeaguelay so close to the surface leaped instantly to life,monstrous, not to be resisted. He sprang to his feet with ashrill and meaningless clamor, totally unlike the ordinarybass of his speaking tones. It was the hideous yelling of ahurt beast, the squealing of a wounded elephant. He framedno words; in the rush of high-pitched sound that issued fromhis wide-open mouth there was nothing articulate. It wassomething no longer human; it was rather an echo from thejungle.Sluggish enough and slow to anger on ordinary occasions,McTeague when finally aroused became another man. His ragewas a kind of obsession, an evil mania, the drunkenness ofpassion, the exalted and perverted fury of the Berserker,blind and deaf, a thing insensate.As he rose he caught Marcus's wrist in both his hands.He did not strike, he did not know what he was doing. Hisonly idea was to batter the life out of the man before him,to crush and annihilate him upon the instant. Gripping hisenemy in his enormous hands, hard and knotted, and coveredwith a stiff fell of yellow hair--the hands of the old-timecar-boy--he swung him wide, as a hammer-thrower swings hishammer. Marcus's feet flipped from the ground, he spunthrough the air about McTeague as helpless as a bundle ofclothes. All at once there was a sharp snap, almost likethe report of a small pistol. Then Marcus rolled over andover upon the ground as McTeague released his grip; his arm,the one the dentist had seized, bending suddenly, as thougha third joint had formed between wrist and elbow. The armwas broken.But by this time every one was crying out at once. Heiseand Ryan ran in between the two men. Selina turned her headaway. Trina was wringing her hands and crying in an agony ofdread:"Oh, stop them, stop them! Don't let them fight. Oh, it'stoo awful.""Here, here, Doc, quit. Don't make a fool of yourself,"cried Heise, clinging to the dentist. "That's enough now.Listen to me, will you?""Oh, Mac, Mac," cried Trina, running to her husband. "Mac,dear, listen; it's me, it's Trina, look at me, you----""Get hold of his other arm, will you, Ryer?" panted Heise."Quick!""Mac, Mac," cried Trina, her arms about his neck."For God's sake, hold up, Doc, will you?" shouted theharness-maker. "You don't want to kill him, do you?"Mrs. Ryer and Heise's lame wife were filling the air withtheir outcries. Selina was giggling with hysteria. Marcus,terrified, but too brave to run, had picked up a jaggedstone with his left hand and stood on the defensive. Hisswollen right arm, from which the shirt sleeve had beentorn, dangled at his side, the back of the hand twistedwhere the palm should have been. The shirt itself was amass of grass stains and was spotted with the dentist'sblood.But McTeague, in the centre of the group that struggledto hold him, was nigh to madness. The side of his face, hisneck, and all the shoulder and breast of his shirt werecovered with blood. He had ceased to cry out, but keptmuttering between his gripped jaws, as he labored to tearhimself free of the retaining hands:"Ah, I'll kill him! Ah, I'll kill him! I'll kill him!Damn you, Heise," he exclaimed suddenly, trying to strikethe harness-maker, "let go of me, will you!"Little by little they pacified him, or rather (for he paidbut little attention to what was said to him) his bestialfury lapsed by degrees. He turned away and let fall hisarms, drawing long breaths, and looking stupidly about him,now searching helplessly upon the ground, now gazing vaguelyinto the circle of faces about him. His ear bled as thoughit would never stop."Say, Doctor," asked Heise, "what's the best thing to do?""Huh?" answered McTeague. "What--what do you mean? What isit?""What'll we do to stop this bleeding here?"McTeague did not answer, but looked intently at the blood-stained bosom of his shirt."Mac," cried Trina, her face close to his, "tell ussomething--the best thing we can do to stop your earbleeding.""Collodium," said the dentist."But we can't get to that right away; we--""There's some ice in our lunch basket," broke in Heise. "Webrought it for the beer; and take the napkins and make abandage.""Ice," muttered the dentist, "sure, ice, that's the word."Mrs. Heise and the Ryers were looking after Marcus's brokenarm. Selina sat on the slope of the grass, gasping andsobbing. Trina tore the napkins into strips, and, crushingsome of the ice, made a bandage for her husband's head.'The party resolved itself into two groups; the Ryers andMrs. Heise bending over Marcus, while the harness-maker andTrina came and went about McTeague, sitting on the ground,his shirt, a mere blur of red and white, detaching itselfviolently from the background of pale-green grass. Betweenthe two groups was the torn and trampled bit of turf, thewrestling ring; the picnic baskets, together with empty beerbottles, broken egg-shells, and discarded sardine tins, werescattered here and there. In the middle of the improvisedwrestling ring the sleeve of Marcus's shirt flutteredoccasionally in the sea breeze.Nobody was paying any attention to Selina. All at once shebegan to giggle hysterically again, then cried out with apeal of laughter:"Oh, what a way for our picnic to end!"