ty-nine hundred in
U.S. 4 per cents. Well, first I began to pawn things when my money got
short--the Old Gentleman's watch that I said I never would part with,
then my clothes. I couldn't keep away from the cards. Of course, you
can't understand that; gambling was the only thing that could amuse me.
Then I began to mortgage my bonds, very little at first. Oh, I went
slow! Then I got to selling them. Well, somehow, they all went. For a
time I got along by the work at the paint-shop. But they have let me out
now; said I was so irregular. I owe for nearly a month at my
lodging-place." His eyes sought the floor again, rolling about stupidly.
"Nearly a month, and that's what makes me jump and tremble so. You ought
to see me sometimes--_b-r-r-r-h!_--and I get to barking! I'm a wolf
mostly, you know, or some kind of an animal, some kind of a brute. But
I'd be all right if everything didn't go round very slowly, and seem far
off. But I'm a wolf. You look out for me; best take care I don't bite
you! Wolf--wolf! Ah! It's up four flights at the end of the hall, very
dark, eight thousand dollars in a green cloth sack, and lots of lights
a-burning. See how long my finger nails are--regular claws; that's the
wolf, the brute! Why can't I talk in my mouth instead of in my throat?
That's the devil of it. When you paint on steel and iron your colours
don't dry out true; all the yellows turn green. But it would 'a' been
all straight if they hadn't fired me! I never talked to anybody--that
was _my_ business, wasn't it? And when all those eight thousand little
lights begin to burn red, why, of course that makes you nervous! So I
have to drink a great deal of water and chew butcher's paper. That fools
him and he thinks he's eating. Just so as I can lay quiet in the Plaza
when the sun is out. There's a hack-stand there, you know, and every
time that horse tosses his head so's to get the oats in the bottom of
the nose-bag he jingles the chains on the poles and, by God! that's
funny; makes me laugh every time; sounds gay, and the chain sparkles
mighty pretty! Oh, I don't complain. Give me a dollar and I'll bark for
you!"

Geary leaned back in his chair listening to Vandover, struck with
wonder, marvelling at that which his old chum had come to be. He was
sorry for him, too, yet, nevertheless, he felt a certain indefinite
satisfaction, a faint exultation over his misfortunes, glad that their
positions were not reversed, pleased that he had been