ehind the coal scuttle, the cat listened to
the sounds of stamping and struggling and the muffled noise of blows,
wildly terrified, his eyes bulging like brass knobs. At last the sounds
stopped on a sudden; he heard nothing more. Then McTeague came out,
closing the door. The cat followed him with distended eyes as he crossed
the room and disappeared through the street door.

The dentist paused for a moment on the sidewalk, looking carefully up
and down the street. It was deserted and quiet. He turned sharply to the
right and went down a narrow passage that led into the little court yard
behind the school. A candle was burning in Trina's room. He went up by
the outside stairway and entered.

The trunk stood locked in one corner of the room. The dentist took the
lid-lifter from the little oil stove, put it underneath the lock-clasp
and wrenched it open. Groping beneath a pile of dresses he found the
chamois-skin bag, the little brass match-box, and, at the very bottom,
carefully thrust into one corner, the canvas sack crammed to the mouth
with twenty-dollar gold pieces. He emptied the chamois-skin bag and the
matchbox into the pockets of his trousers. But the canvas sack was too
bulky to hide about his clothes. "I guess I'll just naturally have to
carry YOU," he muttered. He blew out the candle, closed the door, and
gained the street again.

The dentist crossed the city, going back to the music store. It was a
little after eleven o'clock. The night was moonless, filled with a gray
blur of faint light that seemed to come from all quarters of the horizon
at once. From time to time there were sudden explosions of a southeast
wind at the street corners. McTeague went on, slanting his head against
the gusts, to keep his cap from blowing off, carrying the sack close to
his side. Once he looked critically at the sky.

"I bet it'll rain to-morrow," he muttered, "if this wind works round to
the south."

Once in his little den behind the music store, he washed his hands and
forearms, and put on his working clothes, blue overalls and a
jumper, over cheap trousers and vest. Then he got together his small
belongings--an old campaign hat, a pair of boots, a tin of tobacco,
and a pinchbeck bracelet which he had found one Sunday in the Park, and
which he believed to be valuable. He stripped his blanket from his bed
and rolled up in it all these objects, together with the canvas sack,
fastening the roll with a half hitch such as mine