THE Nick Adams STORIES by Ernest Hemingway Read Free Book Online Page B

from the fire. “Would you like a cup of this coffee, Mister Adams?”
    He handed Nick the cup and smoothed the coat he had placed under the unconscious man’s head.
    â€œHe took too many beatings, for one thing,” the Negro sipped the coffee. “But that just made him sort of simple. Then his sister was his manager and they was always being written up in the papers all about brothers and sisters and how she loved her brother and how he loved his sister, and then they got married in New York and that made a lot of unpleasantness.”
    â€œI remember about it.”
    â€œSure. Of course they wasn’t brother and sister no more than a rabbit, but there was a lot of people didn’t like it either way and they commenced to have disagreements, and one day she just went off and never come back.”
    He drank the coffee and wiped his lips with the pink palm of his hand.
    â€œHe just went crazy. Will you have some more coffee, Mister Adams?”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œI seen her a couple of times,” the Negro went on. “She was an awful good-looking woman. Looked enough like him to be twins. He wouldn’t be bad-looking without his face all busted.”
    He stopped. The story seemed to be over.
    â€œWhere did you meet him?” asked Nick.
    â€œI met him in jail,” the Negro said. “He was busting people all the time after she went away and they put him in jail. I was in for cuttin’ a man.”
    He smiled, and went on soft-voiced: “Right away I liked him and when I got out I looked him up. He likes to think I’m crazy and I don’t mind. I like to be with him and I like seeing the country and I don’t have to commit no larceny to do it. I like living like a gentleman.”
    â€œWhat do you all do?” Nick asked.
    â€œOh, nothing. Just move around. He’s got money.”
    â€œHe must have made a lot of money.”
    â€œSure. He spent all his money, though. Or they took it away from him. She sends him money.”
    He poked up the fire.
    â€œShe’s a mighty fine woman,” he said. “She looks enough like him to be his own twin.”
    The Negro looked over at the little man, lying breathing heavily. His blond hair was down over his forehead. His mutilated face looked childish in repose.
    â€œI can wake him up any time now, Mister Adams. If you don’t mind I wish you’d sort of pull out. I don’t like to not be hospitable, but it might disturb him back again to see you. I hate to have to thump him and it’s the only thing to do when he gets started. I have to sort of keep him away from people. You don’t mind, do you, Mister Adams? No, don’t thank me, Mister Adams. I’d have warned you about him but he seemed to have taken such a liking to you and I thoughtthings were going to be all right. You’ll hit a town about two miles up the track. Mancelona they call it. Good-by. I wish we could ask you to stay the night but it’s just out of the question. Would you like to take some of that ham and some bread with you? No? You better take a sandwich,” all this in a low, smooth, polite nigger voice.
    â€œGood. Well, good-by, Mister Adams. Good-by and good luck!”
    Nick walked away from the fire across the clearing to the railway tracks. Out of the range of the fire he listened. The low soft voice of the Negro was talking. Nick could not hear the words. Then he heard the little man say, “I got an awful headache, Bugs.”
    â€œYou’ll feel better, Mister Francis,” the Negro’s voice soothed. “Just you drink a cup of this hot coffee.”
    Nick climbed the embankment and started up the track. He found he had a ham sandwich in his hand and put it in his pocket. Looking back from the mounting grade before the track curved into the hills he could see the firelight in the clearing.

The Killers
    The door of Henry’s lunchroom opened and two men came in.