King of Spades by Frederick Manfred Read Free Book Online Page B

about your mother either.”
    â€œHain’t you got some kind of a pill you can take that’ll help you get over them crazy ideas?”
    â€œSon, the next time I’m in the office, I’ll go take me a great big cow pill.”
    â€œNow you’re joking.”
    â€œA little. But not really very much.”
    Roddy got out his jackknife. He opened both blades, the long one straight out and the short one halfway, and began throwing the knife expertly at the ground, making it land with one or the other of the two blades coming point down in the grass. The long blade counted ten points and the short one five.
    Magnus watched Roddy’s game of mumblety-peg with a smile. He mused aloud, more to himself than to the boy: “Life. Yes. First there’s the time when you talk about your jackknife and how wonderful sharp it is. Then there’s the time when you brag about your horse and how many women you’ve made. And then there’s the time when you hobble down to the poolhall and brag about what a good crap you had that morning.”
    Roddy glanced up at him briefly, went on with his game of mumblety-peg.
    A coneflower stood erect at the end of their log. Its rays had fallen, and what was left of the flower, the cone, resembled the dark heart of a chicken.
    A giant stag beetle tried again and again to climb the bluff edge of a buffalo chip.
    A rough whizzing was suddenly around the heads of the man and the boy, and then a green bottle fly lighted on the glossy toe of Magnus’ boot. It sat a second, blinking its wings and making a quarter turn; then whisked off.
    Magnus picked a wild clover. He smelled its purple head. He twirled it between his fingers. A little drop of its juice appeared at its severed end. Magnus caught the little drop with a fingertip and licked it. Wild. Like the taste of fresh hay to a horse.
    There appeared to be no atmosphere at all. To breathe was to savor what seemed to be subtly commingled fumes ofalcohol and wild clover. In fantasy fingertips went about touching the tan points of waiting maiden breasts.
    Roddy announced the result of the game he had been playing. “I win. One hundred to eighty-five.”
    â€œWhen our ship comes in,” Magnus murmured. “One day.”
    4
    Magnus searched through the bottom drawer of his desk; at last found it. A bottle of rye.
    â€Such terrible dreams I’ve been having lately.” Magnus shuddered. “And then that last little tyke coming in here, a little girl pregnant at twelve…. Lord, it’s no wonder doctoring drives a man to kissing Black Betty.” With a push of his thumb, he uncorked the bottle; then, with a glance at his framed diploma hanging on the wall above his rolltop desk, tossed off a snort. “I don’t know how much more of this I can stand. Whew!”
    There was a strong smell of carbolic acid in the place. A clock ticked on a bookstand. A cobweb as big as a hairnet hung across one of the green windowpanes.
    â€œHorrible.” He took another shot. He was glad that for once there were no patients out front waiting for him. “Yes, if it weren’t for that venomous carbuncle the human brain, maybe a man could enjoy the simple sins of life a little.”
    A dray rattled by on the frozen streets outside. The horse clopped along with a lazy tumble of hoofs.
    â€œMagnus, old boy, you’re just like one of those swine in the gospel into whose mind the devil has entered. It’s time for you to jump off the brink too.”
    His big gold repeater watch in his vest pocket ticked like a tardy heart. “Yet I just know there’s got to be someone. Justgot to be. He started coming around right after Roddy’d learned to walk.”
    He recalled the mad dream he’d had the night before. In that dream he’d got up to check the lock on the front door. He was sure he’d snapped it shut when they went to bed but he still heard the door banging. He