The Cassowary; What Chanced in the Cleft Mountains

by Stanley Waterloo

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE FATTENING OF PAT

  The general opinion seemed to be that the amiable lady's story wasinnocuous in every detail, while it commended itself as being absolutelytrue to human nature, that great essential in a narrative of any sort.There were the feminine instinct as to the matching of colors, inbredthroughout each latitude, and the masculine instinct in relation tostockings, existent in every longitude, each indicated with allassuredness and delicacy. The account, it was declared by the YoungLady, was a veritable "Idyl of an Outing," and no one disagreed withher. Then came renewed expression of the now constant anxiety andcuriosity regarding the progress of the rescuers and Stafford wentforward to learn the situation, and report.

  "We're in 'in a hole,' literally," came, the reply to Stafford's inquiryof the engineer in charge of the relief train; "That's all we make, atfirst, merely a hole, when we charge into the big drift ahead of usnow. It's thirty feet deep and we can't do much more than loosen upthings, just here, and let the shovelers do the rest. It will be betterwhen we get through this cut. We've sent men on ahead and they find thething not nearly so bad half a mile from here. We're getting along."

  "But, how fast are you getting along?" queried Stafford impatiently."When are you going to reach us?"

  "I can't tell. I'm getting a little doubtful about the fourth day, now.Still, we may make it. How are you fixed for heat and provisions?"

  "All right yet, I guess. I'll find out and let you know later," andStafford went back to the sleeper.

  The bearer of unpleasant news is seldom received with an ovation andStafford proved no exception. There were the usual plaints, but he didnot notice them. Somehow, he had no interest in deliverance. He wassatisfied to be where he was. He was living entirely in the present andwhat was near him. He looked about for the Far Away Lady, but she wasnot visible, and he indulged in a fit of moodiness, like a boy. Helingered with the company until the time for retiring came and thenwent forward to the smoking compartment, where the usual group of thegregarious were enjoying themselves. Here he found relaxation ofthought, at least, and, to a degree, amusement.

  He entered as there was being related an incident of politics. It wastold by a man portly, ruddy-faced and wearing a gold watch chain,weighty enough for a small cable, from which depended the emblems of twoor three of the great secret fraternities. Though in the drawing-roomgatherings he had appeared somewhat less in his element than here, hehad become rather a favorite because of his unfailing good nature andevident shrewdness and sense of humor. He was known as a "commissioner"of something in one of the large cities, a typical city politician. Hewas relating the difficulties experienced in what he called

  THE FATTENING OF PAT

  Pat, who was an excellent janitor, in charge of a big bank building,with men under him, had aspirations. He wanted to become a policeman.The place he held was a good one and most men of his class would havebeen contented, but Pat was not. He was dissatisfied with the monotonousindoor life and decided that to be on the "foorce" was the only thingfor him. He was a fine fellow, overflowing with energy and full ofpersistence, he would not, however advised, abandon the idea. He was atall, muscular man and, aside from the qualities already mentioned, waspossessed of good sense and was of excellent habits. He had friendsamong the tenants of the big structure over the care of which hepresided and when, realizing that to attain the object of his desiresome strong alliance would be necessary he appealed for aid to anoccupant of one of the offices in the building, a young man, who, if notin politics as a business, knew something of the game, he met with nodiscouragement.

  "I'll do what I can, Pat," said Wheaton.

  The Municipal Civil Service Commission had just been established in theCity and was yet "wobbly" and, to a degree, swayed by politicalinfluences. Under the direction of Wheaton, who decided to see fairplay, Pat underwent the usual preliminary examination, passed admirablyas to all questions and would have passed physically, as well, but forhis weight, or rather the lack of it. The required weight for apoliceman of his height was one hundred and sixty-five pounds; Patweighed only one hundred and fifty, for he was as gaunt as anAustralian. Other men lacking as many pounds of the weight nominallydemanded had secured places with no difficulty, but Pat was not desiredby those in authority. His political views were not of the right sortfor the examiners and his manner showed his independence. Fortunatelyfor him, the first examination was only a preliminary--(A delay allowedthe politicians time to select their men among the many)--and a secondand final one was announced to take place four weeks after the first.Pat came to his friend almost with tears in his eyes:

  "Oi'm done fur," said he.

  "What's the matter?" demanded Wheaton.

  "Oi'm fifteen pounds short," said Pat.

  "How long before the next examination?"

  "Four wakes."

  "Pshaw," said Wheaton. "We'll fix it, yet. I'm not going to let thosefellows squeeze you out. Will you do just as I tell you?"

  "Oi will, begobs!" was the sturdy answer.

  "Well you must begin to-morrow morning. You've got two sub-janitors,haven't you?"

  "Oi have," said Pat.

  "You can make them do all the work, if you want to, can't you?"

  "Oi can that!"

  "Then what I want you to do is this--and, mind, I'm going to take chargeof the whole thing and foot the bills; they won't be much--I don't wantyou to do a lick of work for the next four weeks. I want you to stay inyour room about all the time: you mustn't even walk about much. I wantyou to eat nothing but potatoes and bread with about a quarter of aninch thick of butter and sugar on it. Eat lots! You can have meat, too,if it's very fat. And--you're a sober man and I don't believe you'll geta fixed habit in four weeks--I'm going to send a keg of beer to yourroom in the morning, and another whenever one is finished. You're todrink a big mug of it every hour."

  "Blazes," interjected Pat, "Th' ould lady'll murther me. Oi'll be drunk,sure, an' me breath will breed a peshtiliench."

  "No it won't. You'll soon get used to it. We begin to-morrow."

  And the next day Pat began, resolutely, though with fears. Wheatonvisited him frequently and encouraged him in every way; "I'll get youall the newspapers and teach you to play solitaire--it's a fine gamewith cards when you're alone. You're a goose," he said "and I'm trainingyou for _pate de fois gras_," but Pat did not know what that meant. Heonly knew that times were queer. He was afraid of the "ould lady."

  The third morning he came down beaming. "It's quare," he announced. "Oibelave th' ould lady do be fallin' in love wid me over agin, she does bethat foine an' carressin' wid me. 'Pat!' says she, 'you're the new monintoirely! You do be as gentle as a lamb an' it's good to see ye soplayful wid the childer' says she. 'Oi'm in love wid ye, Pat' says she.An' Oi all the toime falin' loike a baste, for I knew well 'twas onlythe mellowness av the beer in me. But it's given me a lesson it has.Oi'll be betther tempered after this."

  "Good idea," said Wheaton.

  At the end of the first week Wheaton took Pat out and weighed him,undressed--four pounds gained.

  "We must do better than that," commented Wheaton. "We'll barely pullthrough at this gait, and it will be harder work getting on flesh thelast two weeks. Do you take your beer every hour?"

  "O'm beginning to spake Dutch," said Pat.

  "Well, keep on with it and eat--eat like a hobo! We'll make it! Don'texercise, don't even wink, if you can help it."

  Pat took his instructions literally and obeyed them. He stayed in hisroom and gorged. His eyes became a trifle heavy and his face flushed,but at the end of two weeks he weighed only one hundred and fifty-ninepounds. Somehow, the next week he didn't do so well, gaining only threepounds more. Dame Nature, in mistaken kindness, was trying to adjust himto his new diet. Wheaton was becoming excited--only one hundred andsixty-two pounds, and only a week to gain something over three more in!

  "We must hump ourselves!"

  And Pat did "hump" himself, ate and drank wit
h an assumed voracity, andhad a slight attack of indigestion. This didn't help matters. The nightbefore the examination he weighed only one hundred and sixty-four poundsand four ounces--three quarters of a pound short!

  Wheaton was anxious but not despairing. "The examination begins atten," he said. "Meet me here at four o'clock in the morning. We'll havesix hours left."

  At the hour named in the morning came Wheaton, carrying a big jug. "Haveyou had any beer, yet, Pat?" he asked.

  "No sor."

  "Then don't take any. You must be clear-headed when you go before theCommission. Here's a gallon of water, good water it is. You must drinkit all before ten o'clock."

  Pat looked dismayed. "Oi'll try sor."

  Then began the struggle. Pat washed down his breakfast at once, verysalt-broiled mackerel--which Wheaton had brought,--with the usualpotatoes and a big beefsteak. After that every five minutes, Wheatonforced the poor fellow to drink a glass of water. At half-past nine thegallon was done. Pat, like the tea-drinkers of Ebenezer Chapel, "swelledwisibly." But Wheaton made him drink more water.

  "Oi feel loike a fishpond, sor," he complained.

  They hurried to the nearest Turkish bath and Pat stripped and got uponthe scales. He weighed one hundred and sixty-five pounds and threeounces. Pat was perspiring violently.

  "If you sweat, I'll murder you!" said Wheaton.

  They appeared before the Commission, Wheaton watching everything like ahawk, his heart in his mouth as the weighing test came. One hundred andsixty-five pounds and one ounce! There was no getting around it!

  "Pat," said Wheaton, later, "You're on the force now and you've had alesson in practical politics. You ought to be a sergeant in no time."

  "Politics is aisy," said Pat, "but Oi'm thinkin' Oi'll be changin' mediet. Oi'm forninst beer and bread and butther forever--an'" he added,reflectively, "Oi dunno but wather, too!"

  "He's making a good policeman," concluded the Commissioner.

  So ended the relation of Pat's experience, and, a little later, thelaughing group in the smoking room dissolved itself. Stafford sought hisberth, largely recovered from his discontent and more like his reliantself. But he was not assured as to his dreams. Would his conscience bewith him still? Could the line of conventional demarcation between himand the Far Away Lady be rigorously preserved, even in them?

  But no dreams came to him at once. He could not sleep at first butstruggled with himself. He was tumultuous and impatient with hisenvironment and obligations, all, seemingly, standing in the way of hishappiness. He was lost, utterly, in the old conflict which comes withthe hesitation between the recognized right and wrong, the acceptedthing at the time in the age of the earth in which he lived? To his aid,he quoted to himself the sayings of the keen thinkers, the abstractreasoners: he thought of Anatole France: "What is morality? Morality isthe rule of custom and custom is the rule of habit. Morality is, then,the rule of habit. Morality changes, continually with custom, of whichit is only the general idea." He thought of the others, too, of one whoreasoned from the fact that there were a Jewish morality, a Christianmorality, a Buddhist morality, and all that. In his half sleep hemumbled; "Why, Reason is the thing," and then he added mumblingly andreflectively, "but then we have learned that there is a right and reasonmust end by being right. There is a right--we know that; we feel it--andwe know what it is. It is, largely, a subordination, a regard forothers. We cannot quite justify ourselves for any selfishness by quotingsome great law of nature. Conscience, somehow, has become the greatestof these laws."

  And so, vaguely and jumblingly, as his senses oozed into sleep, hequoted failingly, the cold thinkers. Then the real dreams came to him,but they were misty and bizarre. He was with the Far Away Lady, but thesurroundings were all strange and she was most elusive. They were in agreat house and he could hear her voice but he could not find her,though he searched from room to room. Then they were in a forest wherethere were many flowers and tall trees and she was a bird somewhere upin the trees and he could hear her singing, but he could not see heramid the foliage. And, finally, they were where there was much shrubberyand where he could see her plainly enough, but she was at a distance andas he followed she would disappear among the roses down some gardenpath. All was most tantalizing and fantastic. And so his night passed.