The Early Stories of Truman Capote by Truman Capote Read Free Book Online Page A

the swamp and disappeared into its dark jungle-like depths.
    Part II
    Em collapsed onto the bed and began to cry. She cried until she fell into a feverish sleep. She was awakened by the sound of men talking. She looked out into the dark yard and saw George and Hank Simmons and Bony Yarber coming toward the house.
    Quickly she jumped up, got a wet cloth, and wiped her face. She turned up a lamp in the kitchen and was sitting reading when the men came in.
    “Hello, honey,” said George, depositing a kiss on her cheek. “Gosh, but you’re hot. Are you feelin’ all right?”
    She nodded her head.
    “Hello, Em,” said the other two men.
    She didn’t bother to return their salutation. She sat reading. They each took a drink of water from the dipper.
    “Boy, that sure tastes good,” said George, “but how about somethin’ with a little more punch to it, eh, boys?” He nudged Bony.
    Suddenly Em laid down her magazine. Cautiously she looked around at them.
    “Did—did,” her voice quavered a little bit, “did you find Sadie?”
    “Yes,” answered George, “we found her in one of those whirlpools over in Hawkins’ mirey part of the swamp. She’d drowned, committed suicide, I guess. But let’s don’t talk about it; it was God-awful. It was—”
    But he didn’t finish. Em jumped up from the table, knocked the lamp over, and ran into the bedroom.
    “Now, what the hell do you suppose is eatin’ her, I wonder,” said George.

Swamp Terror

“Well, I’m shore tellin’ you, Jep, you just ain’t got the sense you wuz born with if you gonna go on in these woods lookin’ for that convict.”
    The boy who spoke was small, with a nut-brown face covered with freckles. He looked eagerly at his companion.
    “Listen here,” Jep said. “I know very well whut I’m doin’—an’ I don’t need none of yo’ advice or none of yo’ sassy mouth.”
    “Boy, I do believe you is crazy. Whut would yo’ ma say if she was to know you was out here in these spooky ol’ woods lookin’ fo’ some ol’ convict?”
    “Lemmie, I’m not askin’ fo’ none of yo’ mouth, an’ I sho’ ain’t askin’ fo’ you to be taggin’ along here with me. Now you can go on back—Pete an’ I will go on and find that ol’ buzzard—then we two, just us two, will go down an’ tell those searchin’ parties where he be. Won’t we, Pete, ol’ boy?” He patted a brown-and-tan dog trotting along by his side.
    They walked on a little farther in silence. The boy called Lemmie was undecided what to do. The woods were dark and so quiet. Occasionally a bird would flutter or sing in the trees, and when their path ran near the stream they could hear it moving swiftly along over the rocks and tiny waterfalls. Yes, indeed, it was too quiet. Lemmie hated the thought of walking back to the edge of the woods alone, but he hated the idea of going on with Jep even worse.
    “Well, Jep,” he said finally, “I guess I’ll just mosey on back. I’m shore not goin’ on into this place any farther, not with all these trees an’ bushes every place that ol’ convict could hide behind, an’ jump on you, an’ kill you deader’n an ol’ doorknob.”
    “Aw, go on back, you big sissy. I hope he gits you while you is goin’ back thru’ the ol’ woods by yuhself.”
    “Well, so long—I guess I’ll be seein’ you in school tomorrow.”
    “Maybe. So long.”
    Jep could hear Lemmie running back through the underbrush, his feet scurrying like a scared rabbit. “That’s what he is,” thought Jep, “just a scared rabbit. What a baby Lemmie is. We never should have brought him along with us, should we’ve, Pete?”
    He demanded the last vocally, and the old brown-and-tan dog, perhaps frightened by the silence being too suddenly interrupted, let out a quick, scared, little bark.
    They walked on in silence. Every now and then Jep would stop and stand listening attentively into the forest. But he heard not the slightest sound to indicate a