Chapter 8

by Frank Norris

　　The next two months were delightful. Trina and McTeague saweach other regularly, three times a week. The dentist wentover to B Street Sunday and Wednesday afternoons as usual;but on Fridays it was Trina who came to the city. She spentthe morning between nine and twelve o'clock down town, forthe most part in the cheap department stores, doing theweekly shopping for herself and the family. At noon shetook an uptown car and met McTeague at the corner of PolkStreet. The two lunched together at a small uptown hoteljust around the corner on Sutter Street. They were given alittle room to themselves. Nothing could have been moredelicious. They had but to close the sliding door to shutthemselves off from the whole world.Trina would arrive breathless from her raids upon thebargain counters, her pale cheeks flushed, her hair blownabout her face and into the corners of her lips, hermother's net reticule stuffed to bursting. Once in theirtiny private room, she would drop into her chair with alittle groan."Oh, Mac, I am so tired; I've just been all overtown. Oh, it's good to sit down. Just think, I had to standup in the car all the way, after being on my feet the wholeblessed morning. Look here what I've bought. Just thingsand things. Look, there's some dotted veiling I got formyself; see now, do you think it looks pretty?"--she spreadit over her face--"and I got a box of writing paper, and aroll of crepe paper to make a lamp shade for the frontparlor; and--what do you suppose--I saw a pair of Nottinghamlace curtains for forty-nine cents; isn't that cheap?and some chenille portieres for two and a half. Now whathave you been doing since I last saw you? Did Mr. Heisefinally get up enough courage to have his tooth pulled yet?"Trina took off her hat and veil and rearranged her hairbefore the looking-glass."No, no--not yet. I went down to the sign painter'syesterday afternoon to see about that big gold tooth for asign. It costs too much; I can't get it yet a while.There's two kinds, one German gilt and the other Frenchgilt; but the German gilt is no good."McTeague sighed, and wagged his head. Even Trina and thefive thousand dollars could not make him forget this oneunsatisfied longing.At other times they would talk at length over their plans,while Trina sipped her chocolate and McTeague devoured hugechunks of butterless bread. They were to be married at theend of May, and the dentist already had his eye on a coupleof rooms, part of the suite of a bankrupt photographer.They were situated in the flat, just back of his "Parlors,"and he believed the photographer would sublet themfurnished.McTeague and Trina had no apprehensions as to theirfinances. They could be sure, in fact, of a tidy littleincome. The dentist's practice was fairly good, and theycould count upon the interest of Trina's five thousanddollars. To McTeague's mind this interest seemed woefullysmall. He had had uncertain ideas about that five thousanddollars; had imagined that they would spend it in somelavish fashion; would buy a house, perhaps, or would furnishtheir new rooms with overwhelming luxury--luxury thatimplied red velvet carpets and continued feasting. The old-time miner's idea of wealth easily gained and quickly spentpersisted in his mind. But when Trina had begun to talk ofinvestments and interests and per cents, he was troubled andnot a little disappointed. The lump sum of fivethousand dollars was one thing, a miserable little twenty ortwenty-five a month was quite another; and then someone elsehad the money."But don't you see, Mac," explained Trina, "it's ours justthe same. We could get it back whenever we wanted it; andthen it's the reasonable way to do. We mustn't let it turnour heads, Mac, dear, like that man that spent all he won inbuying more tickets. How foolish we'd feel after we'd spentit all! We ought to go on just the same as before; as if wehadn't won. We must be sensible about it, mustn't we?""Well, well, I guess perhaps that's right," the dentistwould answer, looking slowly about on the floor.Just what should ultimately be done with the money was thesubject of endless discussion in the Sieppe family. Thesavings bank would allow only three per cent., but Trina'sparents believed that something better could be got."There's Uncle Oelbermann," Trina had suggested, rememberingthe rich relative who had the wholesale toy store in theMission.Mr. Sieppe struck his hand to his forehead. "Ah, an idea,"he cried. In the end an agreement was made. The money wasinvested in Mr. Oelbermann's business. He gave Trina six percent.Invested in this fashion, Trina's winning would bring intwenty-five dollars a month. But, besides this, Trina hadher own little trade. She made Noah's ark animals for UncleOelbermann's store. Trina's ancestors on both sides wereGerman-Swiss, and some long-forgotten forefather of thesixteenth century, some worsted-leggined wood-carver of theTyrol, had handed down the talent of the national industry,to reappear in this strangely distorted guise.She made Noah's ark animals, whittling them out of a blockof soft wood with a sharp jack-knife, the only instrumentshe used. Trina was very proud to explain her work toMcTeague as he had already explained his own to her."You see, I take a block of straight-grained pine and cutout the shape, roughly at first, with the big blade; then Igo over it a second time with the little blade, morecarefully; then I put in the ears and tail with a drop ofglue, and paint it with a 'non-poisonous' paint--Vandykebrown for the horses, foxes, and cows; slate gray for theelephants and camels; burnt umber for the chickens, zebras,and so on; then, last, a dot of Chinese white for the eyes,and there you are, all finished. They sell for nine cents adozen. Only I can't make the manikins.""The manikins?""The little figures, you know--Noah and his wife, and Shem,and all the others."It was true. Trina could not whittle them fast enough andcheap enough to compete with the turning lathe, that couldthrow off whole tribes and peoples of manikins while she wasfashioning one family. Everything else, however, she made--the ark itself, all windows and no door; the box in whichthe whole was packed; even down to pasting on the label,which read, "Made in France." She earned from three to fourdollars a week.The income from these three sources, McTeague's profession,the interest of the five thousand dollars, and Trina'swhittling, made a respectable little sum taken altogether.Trina declared they could even lay by something, adding tothe five thousand dollars little by little.It soon became apparent that Trina would be anextraordinarily good housekeeper. Economy was her strongpoint. A good deal of peasant blood still ran undiluted inher veins, and she had all the instinct of a hardy andpenurious mountain race--the instinct which saves withoutany thought, without idea of consequence--saving for thesake of saving, hoarding without knowing why. Even McTeaguedid not know how closely Trina held to her new-found wealth.But they did not always pass their luncheon hour in thisdiscussion of incomes and economies. As the dentist came toknow his little woman better she grew to be more and more ofa puzzle and a joy to him. She would suddenly interrupt agrave discourse upon the rents of rooms and the cost oflight and fuel with a brusque outburst of affection that sethim all a-tremble with delight. All at once she wouldset down her chocolate, and, leaning across the narrowtable, would exclaim:"Never mind all that! Oh, Mac, do you truly, really loveme--love me big?"McTeague would stammer something, gasping, and wagging hishead, beside himself for the lack of words."Old bear," Trina would answer, grasping him by both hugeears and swaying his head from side to side. "Kiss me,then. Tell me, Mac, did you think any less of me that firsttime I let you kiss me there in the station? Oh, Mac, dear,what a funny nose you've got, all full of hairs inside; and,Mac, do you know you've got a bald spot--" she dragged hishead down towards her--"right on the top of your head."Then she would seriously kiss the bald spot in question,declaring:"That'll make the hair grow."Trina took an infinite enjoyment in playing with McTeague'sgreat square-cut head, rumpling his hair till it stood onend, putting her fingers in his eyes, or stretching his earsout straight, and watching the effect with her head on oneside. It was like a little child playing with somegigantic, good-natured Saint Bernard.One particular amusement they never wearied of. The twowould lean across the table towards each other, McTeaguefolding his arms under his breast. Then Trina, resting onher elbows, would part his mustache-the great blond mustacheof a viking--with her two hands, pushing it up from hislips, causing his face to assume the appearance of a Greekmask. She would curl it around either forefinger, drawingit to a fine end. Then all at once McTeague would make afearful snorting noise through his nose. Invariably--thoughshe was expecting this, though it was part of the game--Trina would jump with a stifled shriek. McTeague wouldbellow with laughter till his eyes watered. Then they wouldrecommence upon the instant, Trina protesting with a nervoustremulousness:"Now--now--now, Mac, don't; you scare me so."But these delicious tete-a-tetes with Trina were offsetby a certain coolness that Marcus Schouler began toaffect towards the dentist. At first McTeague was unawareof it; but by this time even his slow wits began to perceivethat his best friend--his "pal"--was not the same to him asformerly. They continued to meet at lunch nearly every daybut Friday at the car conductors' coffee-joint. But Marcuswas sulky; there could be no doubt about that. He avoidedtalking to McTeague, read the paper continually, answeringthe dentist's timid efforts at conversation in gruffmonosyllables. Sometimes, even, he turned sideways to thetable and talked at great length to Heise the harness-maker,whose table was next to theirs. They took no more longwalks together when Marcus went out to exercise the dogs.Nor did Marcus ever again recur to his generosity inrenouncing Trina.One Tuesday, as McTeague took his place at the table in thecoffee-joint, he found Marcus already there."Hello, Mark," said the dentist, "you here already?""Hello," returned the other, indifferently, helping himselfto tomato catsup. There was a silence. After a long whileMarcus suddenly looked up."Say, Mac," he exclaimed, "when you going to pay me thatmoney you owe me?"McTeague was astonished."Huh? What? I don't--do I owe you any money, Mark?""Well, you owe me four bits," returned Marcus, doggedly. "Ipaid for you and Trina that day at the picnic, and you nevergave it back.""Oh--oh!" answered McTeague, in distress. "That's so,that's so. I--you ought to have told me before. Here'syour money, and I'm obliged to you.""It ain't much," observed Marcus, sullenly. "But I need allI can get now-a-days.""Are you--are you broke?" inquired McTeague."And I ain't saying anything about your sleeping at thehospital that night, either," muttered Marcus, as hepocketed the coin."Well--well--do you mean--should I have paid for that?""Well, you'd 'a' had to sleep somewheres, wouldn'tyou?" flashed out Marcus. "You 'a' had to pay half a dollarfor a bed at the flat.""All right, all right," cried the dentist, hastily, feelingin his pockets. "I don't want you should be out anything onmy account, old man. Here, will four bits do?""I don't want your damn money," shouted Marcus in asudden rage, throwing back the coin. "I ain't no beggar."McTeague was miserable. How had he offended his pal?"Well, I want you should take it, Mark," he said, pushing ittowards him."I tell you I won't touch your money," exclaimed the otherthrough his clenched teeth, white with passion. "I've beenplayed for a sucker long enough.""What's the matter with you lately, Mark?" remonstratedMcTeague. "You've got a grouch about something. Is thereanything I've done?""Well, that's all right, that's all right," returned Marcusas he rose from the table. "That's all right. I've beenplayed for a sucker long enough, that's all. I've beenplayed for a sucker long enough." He went away with aparting malevolent glance.At the corner of Polk Street, between the flat and the carconductors' coffee-joint, was Frenna's. It was a cornergrocery; advertisements for cheap butter and eggs, paintedin green marking-ink upon wrapping paper, stood about on thesidewalk outside. The doorway was decorated with a hugeMilwaukee beer sign. Back of the store proper was a barwhere white sand covered the floor. A few tables and chairswere scattered here and there. The walls were hung withgorgeously-colored tobacco advertisements and coloredlithographs of trotting horses. On the wall behind the barwas a model of a full-rigged ship enclosed in a bottle.It was at this place that the dentist used to leave hispitcher to be filled on Sunday afternoons. Since hisengagement to Trina he had discontinued this habit.However, he still dropped into Frenna's one or twonights in the week. He spent a pleasant hour there, smokinghis huge porcelain pipe and drinking his beer. He neverjoined any of the groups of piquet players around thetables. In fact, he hardly spoke to anyone but thebartender and Marcus.For Frenna's was one of Marcus Schouler's haunts; a greatdeal of his time was spent there. He involved himself infearful political and social discussions with Heise theharness-maker, and with one or two old German, habituesof the place. These discussions Marcus carried on, as washis custom, at the top of his voice, gesticulating fiercely,banging the table with his fists, brandishing the plates andglasses, exciting himself with his own clamor.On a certain Saturday evening, a few days after the scene atthe coffee-joint, the dentist bethought him to spend a quietevening at Frenna's. He had not been there for some time,and, besides that, it occurred to him that the day was hisbirthday. He would permit himself an extra pipe and a fewglasses of beer. When McTeague entered Frenna's back room bythe street door, he found Marcus and Heise already installedat one of the tables. Two or three of the old Germans satopposite them, gulping their beer from time to time. Heisewas smoking a cigar, but Marcus had before him his fourthwhiskey cocktail. At the moment of McTeague's entranceMarcus had the floor."It can't be proven," he was yelling. "I defy any sanepolitician whose eyes are not blinded by party prejudices,whose opinions are not warped by a personal bias, tosubstantiate such a statement. Look at your facts, look atyour figures. I am a free American citizen, ain't I? I paymy taxes to support a good government, don't I? It's acontract between me and the government, ain't it? Well,then, by damn! if the authorities do not or will not affordme protection for life, liberty, and the pursuit ofhappiness, then my obligations are at an end; I withhold mytaxes. I do--I do--I say I do. What?" He glared abouthim, seeking opposition."That's nonsense," observed Heise, quietly. "Try itonce; you'll get jugged." But this observation of theharness-maker's roused Marcus to the last pitch of frenzy."Yes, ah, yes!" he shouted, rising to his feet, shaking hisfinger in the other's face. "Yes, I'd go to jail; butbecause I--I am crushed by a tyranny, does that make thetyranny right? Does might make right?""You must make less noise in here, Mister Schouler," saidFrenna, from behind the bar."Well, it makes me mad," answered Marcus, subsiding into agrowl and resuming his chair. "Hullo, Mac.""Hullo, Mark."But McTeague's presence made Marcus uneasy, rousing in himat once a sense of wrong. He twisted to and fro in hischair, shrugging first one shoulder and then another.Quarrelsome at all times, the heat of the previousdiscussion had awakened within him all his naturalcombativeness. Besides this, he was drinking his fourthcocktail.McTeague began filling his big porcelain pipe. He lit it,blew a great cloud of smoke into the room, and settledhimself comfortably in his chair. The smoke of his cheaptobacco drifted into the faces of the group at the adjoiningtable, and Marcus strangled and coughed. Instantly his eyesflamed."Say, for God's sake," he vociferated, "choke off on thatpipe! If you've got to smoke rope like that, smoke it in acrowd of muckers; don't come here amongst gentlemen.""Shut up, Schouler!" observed Heise in a low voice.McTeague was stunned by the suddenness of the attack. Hetook his pipe from his mouth, and stared blankly at Marcus;his lips moved, but he said no word. Marcus turned his backon him, and the dentist resumed his pipe.But Marcus was far from being appeased. McTeague could nothear the talk that followed between him and the harness-maker, but it seemed to him that Marcus was telling Heise ofsome injury, some grievance, and that the latter was tryingto pacify him. All at once their talk grew louder. Heiselaid a retaining hand upon his companion's coat sleeve,but Marcus swung himself around in his chair, and, fixinghis eyes on McTeague, cried as if in answer to someprotestation on the part of Heise:"All I know is that I've been soldiered out of five thousanddollars."McTeague gaped at him, bewildered. He removed his pipe fromhis mouth a second time, and stared at Marcus with eyes fullof trouble and perplexity."If I had my rights," cried Marcus, bitterly, "I'd have partof that money. It's my due--it's only justice." Thedentist still kept silence."If it hadn't been for me," Marcus continued, addressinghimself directly to McTeague, "you wouldn't have had a centof it--no, not a cent. Where's my share, I'd like to know?Where do I come in? No, I ain't in it any more. I've beenplayed for a sucker, an' now that you've got all you can outof me, now that you've done me out of my girl and out of mymoney, you give me the go-by. Why, where would you havebeen to-day if it hadn't been for me?" Marcus shoutedin a sudden exasperation, "You'd a been plugging teeth attwo bits an hour. Ain't you got any gratitude? Ain't yougot any sense of decency?""Ah, hold up, Schouler," grumbled Heise. "You don't want toget into a row.""No, I don't, Heise," returned Marcus, with a plaintive,aggrieved air. "But it's too much sometimes when you thinkof it. He stole away my girl's affections, and now thathe's rich and prosperous, and has got five thousand dollarsthat I might have had, he gives me the go-by; he's played mefor a sucker. Look here," he cried, turning again toMcTeague, "do I get any of that money?""It ain't mine to give," answered McTeague. "You're drunk,that's what you are.""Do I get any of that money?" cried Marcus, persistently.The dentist shook his head. "No, you don't get any of it.""Now--now," clamored the other, turning to the harness-maker, as though this explained everything. "Look at that,look at that. Well, I've done with you from now on."Marcus had risen to his feet by this time and made as if toleave, but at every instant he came back, shouting hisphrases into McTeague's face, moving off again as he spokethe last words, in order to give them better effect."This settles it right here. I've done with you. Don't youever dare speak to me again"--his voice was shaking withfury--"and don't you sit at my table in the restaurantagain. I'm sorry I ever lowered myself to keep company withsuch dirt. Ah, one-horse dentist! Ah, ten-cent zinc-plugger--hoodlum--mucker! Get your damn smoke outa myface."Then matters reached a sudden climax. In his agitation thedentist had been pulling hard on his pipe, and as Marcus forthe last time thrust his face close to his own, McTeague, inopening his lips to reply, blew a stifling, acrid clouddirectly in Marcus Schouler's eyes. Marcus knocked the pipefrom his fingers with a sudden flash of his hand; it spunacross the room and broke into a dozen fragments in a farcorner.McTeague rose to his feet, his eyes wide. But as yet he wasnot angry, only surprised, taken all aback by the suddennessof Marcus Schouler's outbreak as well as by itsunreasonableness. Why had Marcus broken his pipe? What didit all mean, anyway? As he rose the dentist made a vaguemotion with his right hand. Did Marcus misinterpret it as agesture of menace? He sprang back as though avoiding ablow. All at once there was a cry. Marcus had made a quick,peculiar motion, swinging his arm upward with a wide andsweeping gesture; his jack-knife lay open in his palm; itshot forward as he flung it, glinted sharply by McTeague'shead, and struck quivering into the wall behind.A sudden chill ran through the room; the others stoodtransfixed, as at the swift passage of some cold and deadlywind. Death had stooped there for an instant, had stoopedand past, leaving a trail of terror and confusion. Then thedoor leading to the street slammed; Marcus had disappeared.Thereon a great babel of exclamation arose. The tensionof that all but fatal instant snapped, and speechbecame once more possible."He would have knifed you.""Narrow escape.""What kind of a man do you call that?""'Tain't his fault he ain't a murderer.""I'd have him up for it.""And they two have been the greatest kind of friends.""He didn't touch you, did he?""No--no--no.""What a--what a devil! What treachery! A regular greasertrick!""Look out he don't stab you in the back. If that's the kindof man he is, you never can tell."Frenna drew the knife from the wall."Guess I'll keep this toad-stabber," he observed. "Thatfellow won't come round for it in a hurry; goodsized blade,too." The group examined it with intense interest."Big enough to let the life out of any man," observed Heise."What--what--what did he do it for?" stammered McTeague. "Igot no quarrel with him."He was puzzled and harassed by the strangeness of it all.Marcus would have killed him; had thrown his knife at him inthe true, uncanny "greaser" style. It was inexplicable.McTeague sat down again, looking stupidly about on thefloor. In a corner of the room his eye encountered hisbroken pipe, a dozen little fragments of painted porcelainand the stem of cherry wood and amber.At that sight his tardy wrath, ever lagging behind theoriginal affront, suddenly blazed up. Instantly his hugejaws clicked together."He can't make small of me," he exclaimed, suddenly."I'll show Marcus Schouler--I'll show him--I'll----"He got up and clapped on his hat."Now, Doctor," remonstrated Heise, standing between him andthe door, "don't go make a fool of yourself.""Let 'um alone," joined in Frenna, catching the dentistby the arm; "he's full, anyhow.""He broke my pipe," answered McTeague.It was this that had roused him. The thrown knife, theattempt on his life, was beyond his solution; but thebreaking of his pipe he understood clearly enough."I'll show him," he exclaimed.As though they had been little children, McTeague set Frennaand the harness-maker aside, and strode out at the door likea raging elephant. Heise stood rubbing his shoulder."Might as well try to stop a locomotive," he muttered. "Theman's made of iron."Meanwhile, McTeague went storming up the street toward theflat, wagging his head and grumbling to himself. Ah, Marcuswould break his pipe, would he? Ah, he was a zinc-plugger,was he? He'd show Marcus Schouler. No one should make smallof him. He tramped up the stairs to Marcus's room. Thedoor was locked. The dentist put one enormous hand on theknob and pushed the door in, snapping the wood-work, tearingoff the lock. Nobody--the room was dark and empty. Nevermind, Marcus would have to come home some time that night.McTeague would go down and wait for him in his "Parlors."He was bound to hear him as he came up the stairs.As McTeague reached his room he stumbled over, in thedarkness, a big packing-box that stood in the hallway justoutside his door. Puzzled, he stepped over it, and lightingthe gas in his room, dragged it inside and examined it.It was addressed to him. What could it mean? He wasexpecting nothing. Never since he had first furnished hisroom had packing-cases been left for him in this fashion.No mistake was possible. There were his name and addressunmistakably. "Dr. McTeague, dentist--Polk Street, SanFrancisco, Cal.," and the red Wells Fargo tag.Seized with the joyful curiosity of an overgrown boy, hepried off the boards with the corner of his fireshovel. Thecase was stuffed full of excelsior. On the top lay anenvelope addressed to him in Trina's handwriting. Heopened it and read, "For my dear Mac's birthday, fromTrina;" and below, in a kind of post-script, "The man willbe round to-morrow to put it in place." McTeague tore awaythe excelsior. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation.It was the Tooth--the famous golden molar with its hugeprongs--his sign, his ambition, the one unrealized dream ofhis life; and it was French gilt, too, not the cheap Germangilt that was no good. Ah, what a dear little woman wasthis Trina, to keep so quiet, to remember his birthday!"Ain't she--ain't she just a--just a jewel," exclaimedMcTeague under his breath, "a jewel--yes, just ajewel; that's the word."Very carefully he removed the rest of the excelsior, andlifting the ponderous Tooth from its box, set it upon themarble-top centre table. How immense it looked in thatlittle room! The thing was tremendous, overpowering--thetooth of a gigantic fossil, golden and dazzling. Beside iteverything seemed dwarfed. Even McTeague himself, big bonedand enormous as he was, shrank and dwindled in the presenceof the monster. As for an instant he bore it in his hands,it was like a puny Gulliver struggling with the molar ofsome vast Brobdingnag.The dentist circled about that golden wonder, gasping withdelight and stupefaction, touching it gingerly with hishands as if it were something sacred. At every moment histhought returned to Trina. No, never was there such alittle woman as his--the very thing he wanted--how had sheremembered? And the money, where had that come from? Noone knew better than he how expensive were these signs; notanother dentist on Polk Street could afford one. Where,then, had Trina found the money? It came out of her fivethousand dollars, no doubt.But what a wonderful, beautiful tooth it was, to be sure,bright as a mirror, shining there in its coat of Frenchgilt, as if with a light of its own! No danger of thattooth turning black with the weather, as did the cheapGerman gilt impostures. What would that other dentist, thatposer, that rider of bicycles, that courser ofgreyhounds, say when he should see this marvellous molar runout from McTeague's bay window like a flag of defiance? Nodoubt he would suffer veritable convulsions of envy; wouldbe positively sick with jealousy. If McTeague could onlysee his face at the moment!For a whole hour the dentist sat there in his little"Parlor," gazing ecstatically at his treasure, dazzled,supremely content. The whole room took on a differentaspect because of it. The stone pug dog before the littlestove reflected it in his protruding eyes; the canary wokeand chittered feebly at this new gilt, so much brighter thanthe bars of its little prison. Lorenzo de' Medici, in thesteel engraving, sitting in the heart of his court, seemedto ogle the thing out of the corner of one eye, while thebrilliant colors of the unused rifle manufacturer's calendarseemed to fade and pale in the brilliance of this greaterglory.At length, long after midnight, the dentist started to go tobed, undressing himself with his eyes still fixed on thegreat tooth. All at once he heard Marcus Schouler's foot onthe stairs; he started up with his fists clenched, butimmediately dropped back upon the bed-lounge with a gestureof indifference.He was in no truculent state of mind now. He could notreinstate himself in that mood of wrath wherein he had leftthe corner grocery. The tooth had changed all that. Whatwas Marcus Schouler's hatred to him, who had Trina'saffection? What did he care about a broken pipe now that hehad the tooth? Let him go. As Frenna said, he was not worthit. He heard Marcus come out into the hall, shoutingaggrievedly to anyone within sound of his voice:"An' now he breaks into my room--into my room, by damn! Howdo I know how many things he's stolen? It's come to stealingfrom me, now, has it?" He went into his room, banging hissplintered door.McTeague looked upward at the ceiling, in the direction ofthe voice, muttering:"Ah, go to bed, you."He went to bed himself, turning out the gas, but leaving thewindow-curtains up so that he could see the tooth thelast thing before he went to sleep and the first thing as hearose in the morning.But he was restless during the night. Every now and then hewas awakened by noises to which he had long since becomeaccustomed. Now it was the cackling of the geese in thedeserted market across the street; now it was the stoppageof the cable, the sudden silence coming almost like a shock;and now it was the infuriated barking of the dogs in theback yard--Alec, the Irish setter, and the collie thatbelonged to the branch post-office raging at each otherthrough the fence, snarling their endless hatred into eachother's faces. As often as he woke, McTeague turned andlooked for the tooth, with a sudden suspicion that he hadonly that moment dreamed the whole business. But he alwaysfound it--Trina's gift, his birthday from his little woman--a huge, vague bulk, looming there through the half darknessin the centre of the room, shining dimly out as if with somemysterious light of its own.