By the Skin of His Teeth

by Ann Walsh

  "I agree," I said.

  Jenny, for once, said nothing at all.

  Eleven

  I ran back to the main street, pushing through the crowd, trying to reach the officials at the starting line. "Excuse me, please, let me pass."

  "Good luck, sir...Ted."

  "Peter? What are you doing here?"

  "I came to see you win the race. You and Joseph. Why are you so late?"

  "I don't have time to explain," I said. "But we won't be in the race."

  "Why? Where is Joseph?" Peter was now beside me, both of us trying to make our way politely through the street.

  "I'll tell you later. Excuse me, ma'am. My apologies, sir."

  "You will not get a refund of your entry fee," Peter said, following me.

  "I know that."

  We finally reached the starting line. The other contestants were ready, their legs bound. An official was calling my name. "Ted MacIntosh, come to the starting line with your partner at once. The Three-Legged Race is about to begin. Report immediately."

  There were five other sets of competitors, but at the end of the lineup there was an empty space with two pieces of cloth in front of it.

  Peter was right. I wouldn't get back the dollar entry fee. Even though I hadn't paid it, now that I knew who had, I hated to see it lost. But if I won the race, then I could give Jenny back her dollar and...

  "Peter! You'll be my partner."

  "Me?"

  "Yes. If you will."

  "I would enjoy that. Yes."

  "But your name isn't Joseph. What if someone recognizes you?"

  He stood still for a moment. "Joseph, Peter, Sing Kee, Kwok Leong—no one will recognize me, Ted. To most people one Chinese looks like every other one. Even those who know me as Peter will think I am Joseph if they are told that is my name."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. To white people we all look the same."

  I didn't have time to think about that, though I found it difficult to believe. "Then today you'll be Joseph. He won't complain at all if you borrow his name. Believe me, anyone can be Joseph."

  Peter looked puzzled, but he followed me and we took our place at the starting line. He bent to pick up the cloth ties and began to fasten our legs together. The official who had been calling my name nodded at me, then signalled to the starter. "All contestants are here," he said. "Let's begin."

  Excitement built inside me. Peter and I were fast. We had practised for many hours. We were very good. I knew we had an excellent chance to win. Jenny would be proud of me, of us. My parents would be proud, and I wouldn't have to share my half of the prize money with my father!

  I snuck a quick glance at the other competitors. All of them were older. Two were giggling and could barely stand upright. These two had obviously been among those who had spent much of the night in a saloon. By their unsteady stance, I guessed they had continued drinking this morning. They wouldn't be difficult to beat.

  I recognized another pair of racers. They both worked in Mason and Daly's General Store. They were clerks and weren't accustomed to physical exercise. Unless they had trained as hard as Peter and I, they wouldn't offer much competition, either.

  There was no time to finish my assessment of the others. The starter lifted his pistol and said, "Take your marks."

  Peter had finished binding our legs. He straightened, and we locked our arms around each other's waist. "We're going to win," I said. "I know it."

  "I think so," Peter said, smiling. "We are good."

  "Get ready," said the starter.

  "Stop!" someone yelled.

  "Get set," continued the starter.

  "Stop," came the shout again, louder this time. "You must halt this race immédiatement".

  The starter lowered his pistol. The official looked around, trying to see who was speaking. But I knew who it was. I recognized that voice. So I wasn't surprised when Henri Tremblay stepped forward.

  "We do not allow animals to run with men," he said. "This race, it is only for men, n'est-ce pas? Not animals."

  The starter seemed confused. "But there are no dogs here today. Not like last year."

  "Je ne parle pas de—I do not speak of dogs," Henri Tremblay said. "But of that animal there." He gestured toward Peter.

  "Animal?" the official said. "I don't see—"

  "A heathen Chinese," Henri Tremblay said. "An evil animal."

  The crowd gasped. I think many people hadn't realized until that very moment that my partner was Chinese. There had been a lot of activity at the starting line, and Peter had been bent over, fastening our legs. Now he stooped again and began to untie them. "No," I said, trying to pull him back to his feet. "You have as much right to be here as I do."

  "In your eyes alone, sir...Ted," he said. "It is best if I go." He stayed crouched, his head bowed, though he had finished untying our legs.

  "No, you must stay and race."

  The people who had gathered to watch were becoming noisy. I could hear loud, angry voices. Although it seemed as if everyone was talking at once, I managed to hear fragments of sentences. "How dare he?" "Imagine, thinking he's as good as us!" "They're all liars and cheats, evil, scheming—just like one of those Chinamen to try to win money from honest white men."

  I raised my voice to be heard over the commotion. "This is my friend. I invited him to race with me. Our entry fee is paid."

  The starter and the race official were examining a piece of paper. I could see that it was the entry form where I had written my name. And Joseph Morrison's.

  "I've changed my partner, that's all," I said. "There's no rule against that."

  The starter looked at me, then at Peter. The official moved closer. He stared at me, and at Peter.

  Henri Tremblay grinned at me, then spat on the ground in front of Peter. "So the boy brings one of his heathen friends to the races."

  Spectators and racers had formed a circle around Peter and me. Peter was still crouched at my feet, his head bent as if he were trying to hide his face. "Stand up," I hissed at him, pulling on his arm. "Stand up. We've done nothing to be ashamed of."

  Peter didn't answer me. He shook his head slightly and remained where he was.

  The starter spoke and the throng fell silent. "This isn't Joseph Morrison," he said, pointing at Peter. "These Celestials have heathen names, and Joseph Morrison is a good Christian name."

  "Peter will be my partner for the race," I said. "Joseph was... delayed."

  "He can't be your partner," the official said. "Chinamen aren't allowed to compete in the races."

  "That isn't fair," I said. "There's a Siwash Race for Indian men. Why can't a Chinese person also race?"

  "The Indians race only against themselves," replied the starter. "They know their places and don't try to mix with their betters. No white man can enter the Siwash Race. No Indian or Chinaman can enter the other races."

  "Where do the rules say that?" I asked.

  "It isn't written down," the official said, "but everyone knows it. Isn't that so?" He turned and appealed to the crowd. "How say you all? Do we allow this Celestial to compete in the race?"

  The mob roared, "No!"

  The official nodded. "We agree then. But there's no reason why Ted shouldn't race. His entry fee is paid. Is there a man here who will be his partner?"

  "I will," someone said.

  "Me, too," someone else called.

  "There," the starter said to me. "You have a choice of partners. Choose one quickly and let's begin."

  "I will not race with anyone else," I said. Heat rose in my face, and I knew I was turning red. But this time I wasn't blushing. I was mad. "Peter is my friend. He lives in this country, in this town. He and his family work here. He has as much right to participate in the Dominion Day celebrations as any of us. He will run with me."

  "No, he will not," the official said. "If you don't select another partner, then we'll begin the race without you. You've delayed us long enough."

  "Step aside,
boy," Henri Tremblay said, laughing. "Oui, step aside or you will be trampled by the feet of your betters."

  "No!" I shouted. "I will not allow such an unfair thing to happen. These races are for everyone. All who pay their entry fee can enter them."

  "Not true," a woman cried out. "Nae woman can race."

  It was Jenny. Of course.

  A few other women's voices joined in, agreeing with Jenny, and the noise grew louder. The starter raised his pistol and fired it. Silence fell immediately. The official sounded horrified when he spoke next. "No respectable woman would want to do such an unladylike thing as race in public. And no respectable man would run with a heathen. I fear there are many here who are disappointed in you, Ted MacIntosh."

  "I will race with Peter," I said. "I demand you allow me to do so."

  The starter turned to the race official and shook his head. Then the official spoke again, his voice impatient. "Ted MacIntosh, we have no quarrel with you, but you made an unwise decision when you asked this Celestial boy..."

  He gestured to where Peter had been kneeling, but Peter was gone. My friend had slipped away so quietly that no one had noticed him leave. "See, your cowardly heathen partner has turned tail and fled," the official said. "Now you have no choice. Select another partner or withdraw from the race. This is the last time I shall ask."

  "No!" I shouted. "I won't be part of such an unfair business. I'll stay right here until you allow me to race with the partner of my choice."

  The starter laughed. "You don't have a partner now. If you will not move, I cannot make you. But be warned—you're likely to be trampled when the race begins." He gestured for the crowd to step back, lifted his pistol, and said, "Racers, take your marks."

  The other runners returned to their positions at the starting line. I stayed where I was in front of them. Alone.

  "I won't move!" I cried.

  The starter lowered his pistol and gazed questioningly at the official. The official shrugged. "We'll proceed with the race, anyway," he said.

  "I won't move," I said again. "I'll stay here and—"

  "Be mowed down like a piece of wheat before the thresher, causing your poor mother much grief," my father said. "Stop this, son. It will do no good." He put a hand firmly on my shoulder, trying to push me away from the starting line. "I agree with you. It isn't fair, but there is nothing you can do about it."

  "No, Pa, I won't move." I shook his hand off and faced the other runners.

  They stared back. By the expressions on their faces, I could see they wouldn't alter their courses to avoid colliding with me. Several of them looked angry enough to run into me deliberately.

  "Come with me, son," Pa said. "Please. Your mother is upset enough. Spare her any more embarrassment." I hadn't seen my mother in the crowd, but I knew she would be there, waiting hopefully to see me and Joseph win.

  "No. I won't leave. I'll stay right here."

  My father sighed. "Well, then I'll stay with you. We'll stand together, and be mowed down together, no doubt."

  The starter lifted his pistol once more and said again, "Racers, take your marks."

  "Quickly, Pa. Move out of the way."

  My father shook his head. He had turned so he, too, faced the racers. Some of them lowered their eyes and wouldn't look at him.

  "Get ready," called the starter.

  I glanced at the other runners again. I had no doubt they would run right over us. I was strong and young and could withstand being pushed and shoved as they raced for the finish, but my father wasn't so young. I couldn't let him be harmed.

  Taking a deep breath, I put my arm around my father, and the two of us walked toward the side of the road, away from the starting line. Behind us I heard the command "Get set..."

  The crowd parted, letting us pass through. No one was watching the start of the race. All eyes were on us.

  "I shall nae enjoy this race at all," said a woman wearing a hat with a dark veil. "I nae wish to observe any competitions that don't treat everyone as equals." She raised her voice. "Are there not others who feel as I do?" Although I didn't recognize either the dress or the hat she wore, I knew very well it was Jenny. She fell into step behind me and my father.

  "Nor do I wish to watch," my mother said. "I've had enough of this sport. I'm also leaving."

  "I don't like to hear any people called such names," another woman said. "It wasn't necessary to shame that young Chinese boy so." She turned her back on the racers and followed us.

  "Although I wouldn't want to race in these rough competitions," yet another woman's voice said, "it wouldn't harm the men's pride if we women had our own race, something dignified such as the Egg and Spoon." She, too, began to walk away.

  "Go!" said the starter, the word almost lost under the crack of his pistol. I heard the uneven thumping of feet as the race began, but only a few male voices were shouting encouragement to the competitors. It was strangely silent. I turned around to see what was happening.

  Most of the women who had been in the crowd were behind Pa and me. Led by Jenny and my mother, they were ignoring the race. Many of the remaining spectators weren't watching the race, either. They were staring at us.

  The procession remained close on our heels all the way down the main street until we could no longer hear the subdued cheering. Then, in a flurry of skirts, chatter, and raised sun parasols, the "parade" dispersed.

  "Well..." Pa said. He sighed again, but this time I think it was due to relief.

  "Well, indeed," said my mother.

  The mysterious woman in the dark veil said nothing at all. She just lifted a small hand to wave goodbye.

  "Don't forget tonight," I called to Jenny. "After the performance at the Theatre Royal is over, I'll meet you where I met Joseph and we'll watch the fireworks together. All three of us."

  "Perhaps," she said without turning around, "though you didn't race with Joseph as you promised, so I do nae have to keep my promise."

  "But I thought-"

  "Well, maybe I'll be there. You'll have to wait and see what I decide."

  Surely she would come, I thought. Surely she wouldn't hold me to that silly promise to race with "Joseph."

  "I'll wait for you," I called to her retreating back. "Please come. Please."

  "Perhaps," she said once more, then was gone.

  "She'll be there," Pa said. "Don't fret, lad."

  "Who?" Ma asked, looking from Pa back to me. "Who will be there?"

  Pa grinned. I didn't answer. Ma glanced at Pa again, then back at me. Pa's grin grew broader. I said nothing, though I believe I blushed.

  "Oh," Ma said. "Well, I understand. I think I understand." There was still a question on her face, but all she asked me was: "Shall we expect you home for dinner then? Or will you stay in town until evening?"

  "Of course I'll come home to eat," I said. "But first there's something I have to do."

  Twelve

  I said goodbye to my parents and, only because my mother insisted, stopped briefly at the carpentry shop to change my clothes. "You're growing so fast you already strain the seams of your suit, Ted," she said. "In truth, I'm glad you didn't run in that race. You were wearing your good suit and would have destroyed what little wear is left in it."

  Changing quickly, I headed to Chinatown, almost running along the deserted back street, avoiding the races that, by the shouts and cheers, were still in progress. I had to find Peter and apologize. That apology should come from many, including Henri Tremblay, the race officials, and the spectators who had called him names, but I knew I would be the only one to offer it.

  I needed to apologize, for I was the one who had caused the problem. I had to tell Peter I was sorry for what had happened, even though I knew words were a poor salve for the pain caused by other words that sprang from hate.

  Peter had disappeared before the others and I left the races. He didn't know that not everyone in Barkerville thought he was an "animal," that others had walked away in protest because of the way
he had been treated. If I told him about that, it might help.

  He had endured a great deal of humiliation because I had asked him to be my partner. What had I been thinking? Why hadn't I considered the consequences? Was I afraid of being labelled a coward if I withdrew my entry? Was I too greedy to give up a chance to win ten dollars? Too frugal to waste the entry fee, even though Jenny, not I, had paid it?

  At that moment from farther down the street in the centre of Chinatown I heard laughter. Then a man's voice. "Run, dog! You wish to race? So run on the ground on your knees."

  Again there was laughter. I picked up my pace, following the voices.

  "Crawl. On the ground."

  "That's where animals belong, Celestial. On the ground."

  "Now we'll see you race. Ready, set, go!"

  "Crawl, or you will regret it, heathen."

  I found them in a small alleyway between two buildings. Three men were staring at something on the ground. I heard a thump, the noise of a boot hitting flesh, and a small yelp of pain.

  Then I heard Peter, his voice loud and clear. "I will not crawl. I am not animal."

  "You will do what we tell you to. Immédiatement. Crawl, I say. Now!"

  "Stop!" I shouted. "Leave him alone."

  The men turned around, and Henri Tremblay stepped away from the group. On the ground was Peter. He was kneeling, but his head was held high. Blood dripped from his forehead. He struggled to get to his feet when he saw me, but the man holding him wouldn't let him rise.

  "Leave him alone," I repeated. "He's only a boy."

  "So another boy comes to help him." Henri Tremblay moved toward me. "Come, boy who is almost docteur, play with your heathen friend on the ground like animals play. We will watch you race with him."

  "Leave Peter alone," someone said. "Let him go at once." It was a strong, angry voice. I almost turned to see who had spoken, then realized it was me.

  "So who will make us?" the Frenchman snarled.

  "I will."

  "You wish to fight, boy? Bon. Now you will learn that enfants must not be rude to their elders." There was a flash of silver, and a knife appeared in his hand.