the scenes I mused on. But for Hal's rude warriors, tis
true."
"Tole ya an I tole ya,
Willy, them ain't my knaves," Henry objected. "Left over from
old Cap Larson, like I was telling Retief here. Wisht I could get ridda 'em.
Club'd be peaceful joint cept fer them rogues!"
"Easily done, friend
Harry," Will said. "But concentrate your will, as I shall mine—and
perhaps our guests as well. We'll wish 'em to Hell, and no part of this our
club." He closed his eyes and frowned.
"Geeze!" Bill
exclaimed. "Willya look at that! Old Olaf and Helgi—least that's what they
been callin each other—jest got up and walked out, like they hadda go or
something. And the rest of 'em, too." He twisted in his chair to scan the
farthest corners of the cavernous room.
"Well done,
gentles!" Will exclaimed. "Better than any putter-out at three to one
had wagered, I trow!"
"Old Willy talks funny
sometimes," Henry told Bill behind his hand. "But he's larning."
"Methought twas your
own rude dialect that 'casioned fun," Willy observed mildly. "Still,
so long as we can converse, what matters terminology, say I."
"Ere, ere," Blinky
put in from a position just behind the windy pote. He raised his warped amber
bottle and drank deep.
"Par me, Big, and
fellers," he added. "I gotta get back on the gate. Gotta press a crew
to get the timber back in place." He paused to eye Retief, half
resentfully, half hopefully, "Lessen maybe Cap Retief here might wanta
lend a hand."
"With pleasure,"
Retief acceeded, rising. "But may I inquire why it's necessary to set up a
roadblock of such heroic dimensions?"
"You been lissening to
Willy too much," Big Henry grunted. "But I get the drift: you wanta
know how come we got to fortify the door."
"Precisely put, Your Majesty,"
Magnan supplied. "I think that is precisely what Mr. Retief was wondering,
as I do myself."
"Well, you see,
gents," Henry began hesitantly, "some slob named Goldberg or like
that with a grudge against old Cap Larson they say, tried to bring in a horde
of evil spirits and all, to drag old Wolf direct to the Bad Place, least that's
what they usta say, the old boys was here when I come." He paused to empty
his bottle and bellow for refills all around.
"Fact is," he
continued, a trifle defiantly, "I seen 'em myself, once. Had a few too
many, maybe a couple dozen brews and a jug o' rum, and had a notion to go
outside for a looksee. And this here devil in the shape of a big old
caterpillar or what ya call 'em rared up square in front o' me and said, 'Hold
hard, Mate, notaries loud in the high street,' or like that." Henry
uncapped a new bottle with a flip of his thumb and drank half of its contents
in a gulp. "Fer meself," he went on thoughtfully, "I like a nice
grog-shop where a feller can get some good brew and a nice plate o' eats and
maybe get into a few friendly fights. No guys blowing that loud music and
guitar-picking. And no dames—dames cause trouble," he explained.
"Sure, I like a nice dame, but so does every other guy, 'cept Ralphie and
Dood, o' course, and that's where the trouble comes in. Guys use knives over
dames ..."As he spoke, Henry fingered a scar on the side of his neck.
"Hadda bar one feller fer life," he added. "Say, talking about a
nice plate of eats, what say we put on the feed bag, fellers?" He yelled
and the black-clad waiter was back. He nodded at Big Henry's instructions, and
was gone only a moment before returning with five heaped plastron plates
balanced along one arm.
"I hope ya like a
golosh, boys," Big said heartily. "My own recipe. Have it every day.
Only one issue galosh to a batch, but it's
true."
"Tole ya an I tole ya,
Willy, them ain't my knaves," Henry objected. "Left over from
old Cap Larson, like I was telling Retief here. Wisht I could get ridda 'em.
Club'd be peaceful joint cept fer them rogues!"
"Easily done, friend
Harry," Will said. "But concentrate your will, as I shall mine—and
perhaps our guests as well. We'll wish 'em to Hell, and no part of this our
club." He closed his eyes and frowned.
"Geeze!" Bill
exclaimed. "Willya look at that! Old Olaf and Helgi—least that's what they
been callin each other—jest got up and walked out, like they hadda go or
something. And the rest of 'em, too." He twisted in his chair to scan the
farthest corners of the cavernous room.
"Well done,
gentles!" Will exclaimed. "Better than any putter-out at three to one
had wagered, I trow!"
"Old Willy talks funny
sometimes," Henry told Bill behind his hand. "But he's larning."
"Methought twas your
own rude dialect that 'casioned fun," Willy observed mildly. "Still,
so long as we can converse, what matters terminology, say I."
"Ere, ere," Blinky
put in from a position just behind the windy pote. He raised his warped amber
bottle and drank deep.
"Par me, Big, and
fellers," he added. "I gotta get back on the gate. Gotta press a crew
to get the timber back in place." He paused to eye Retief, half
resentfully, half hopefully, "Lessen maybe Cap Retief here might wanta
lend a hand."
"With pleasure,"
Retief acceeded, rising. "But may I inquire why it's necessary to set up a
roadblock of such heroic dimensions?"
"You been lissening to
Willy too much," Big Henry grunted. "But I get the drift: you wanta
know how come we got to fortify the door."
"Precisely put, Your Majesty,"
Magnan supplied. "I think that is precisely what Mr. Retief was wondering,
as I do myself."
"Well, you see,
gents," Henry began hesitantly, "some slob named Goldberg or like
that with a grudge against old Cap Larson they say, tried to bring in a horde
of evil spirits and all, to drag old Wolf direct to the Bad Place, least that's
what they usta say, the old boys was here when I come." He paused to empty
his bottle and bellow for refills all around.
"Fact is," he
continued, a trifle defiantly, "I seen 'em myself, once. Had a few too
many, maybe a couple dozen brews and a jug o' rum, and had a notion to go
outside for a looksee. And this here devil in the shape of a big old
caterpillar or what ya call 'em rared up square in front o' me and said, 'Hold
hard, Mate, notaries loud in the high street,' or like that." Henry
uncapped a new bottle with a flip of his thumb and drank half of its contents
in a gulp. "Fer meself," he went on thoughtfully, "I like a nice
grog-shop where a feller can get some good brew and a nice plate o' eats and
maybe get into a few friendly fights. No guys blowing that loud music and
guitar-picking. And no dames—dames cause trouble," he explained.
"Sure, I like a nice dame, but so does every other guy, 'cept Ralphie and
Dood, o' course, and that's where the trouble comes in. Guys use knives over
dames ..."As he spoke, Henry fingered a scar on the side of his neck.
"Hadda bar one feller fer life," he added. "Say, talking about a
nice plate of eats, what say we put on the feed bag, fellers?" He yelled
and the black-clad waiter was back. He nodded at Big Henry's instructions, and
was gone only a moment before returning with five heaped plastron plates
balanced along one arm.
"I hope ya like a
golosh, boys," Big said heartily. "My own recipe. Have it every day.
Only one issue galosh to a batch, but it's
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