 | Tales of the jazz age |  |
A Mountain Battle
The stranger was aroused at last. Furious to get at
the Doldrums, he tried to escape from the house by crawling
up the chimney. Then he thought there might be
a door under the bed, but Jemina told him there was not.
He hunted for doors under the beds and sofas, but each
time Jemina pulled him out and told him there were no
doors there. Furious with anger, he beat upon the
door and hollered at the Doldrums. They did not
answer him, but kept up their fusillade of bricks and
stones against the window. Old Pappy Tantrum knew
that as soon as they were able to effect an aperture they
would pour in and the fight would be over.
Then old Heck Doldrum, foaming at the mouth and
expectorating on the ground, left and right, led the
attack.
The terrific slingshots of Pappy Tantrum had not
been without their effect. A master shot had disabled
one Doldrum, and another Doldrum, shot almost incessantly
through the abdomen, fought feebly on.
Nearer and nearer they approached the house.
"We must fly," shouted the stranger to Jemina. "I
will sacrifice myself and bear you away."
"No," shouted Pappy Tantrum, his face begrimed.
"You stay here and fit on. I will bar Jemina away. I
will bar Mappy away. I will bar myself away."
The man from the settlements, pale and trembling
with anger, turned to Ham Tantrum, who stood at the
door throwing loophole after loophole at the advancing
Doldrums.
"Will you cover the retreat?"
But Ham said that he too had Tantrums to bear
away, but that he would leave himself here to help the
stranger cover the retreat, if he could think of a way of
doing it.
Soon smoke began to filter through the floor and ceiling.
Shem Doldrum had come up and touched a match
to old Japhet Tantrum's breath as he leaned from a
loophole, and the alcoholic flames shot up on all sides.
The whiskey in the bathtub caught fire. The walls
began to fall in.
Jemina and the man from the settlements looked at
each other.
"Jemina," he whispered.
"Stranger," she answered.
"We will die together," he said. "If we had lived I
would have taken you to the city and married you.
With your ability to hold liquor, your social success
would have been assured."
She caressed him idly for a moment, counting her toes
softly to herself. The smoke grew thicker. Her left
leg was on fire.
She was a human alcohol lamp.
Their lips met in one long kiss and then a wall fell on
them and blotted them out.
| Tales of the jazz age | |