The Jungle Upton Sinclair (bookreader .txt) 📖

“Go!” cried the youngster, angrily. “Damn you, don’t you hear me?”

The man went out and closed the door; Jurgis, who was as sharp as he, observed that he took the key out of the lock, in order that he might peer through the keyhole.

Master Frederick turned to the table again. “Now,” he said, “go for it.”

Jurgis gazed at him doubtingly. “Eat!” cried the other. “Pile in, ole chappie!”

“Don’t you want anything?” Jurgis asked.

“Ain’t hungry,” was the reply⁠—“only thirsty. Kitty and me had some candy⁠—you go on.”

So Jurgis began, without further parley. He ate as with two shovels, his fork in one hand and his knife in the other; when he once got started his wolf-hunger got the better of him, and he did not stop for breath until he had cleared every plate. “Gee whiz!” said the other, who had been watching him in wonder.

Then he held Jurgis the bottle. “Lessee you drink now,” he said; and Jurgis took the bottle and turned it up to his mouth, and a wonderful unearthly liquid ecstasy poured down his throat, tickling every nerve of him, thrilling him with joy. He drank the very last drop of it, and then he gave vent to a long-drawn “Ah!”

“Good stuff, hey?” said Freddie, sympathetically; he had leaned back in the big chair, putting his arm behind his head and gazing at Jurgis.

And Jurgis gazed back at him. He was clad in spotless evening-dress, was Freddie, and looked very handsome⁠—he was a beautiful boy, with light golden hair and the head of an Antinous. He smiled at Jurgis confidingly, and then started talking again, with his blissful insouciance. This time he talked for ten minutes at a stretch, and in the course of the speech he told Jurgis all of his family history. His big brother Charlie was in love with the guileless maiden who played the part of “Little Bright-Eyes” in “The Kaliph of Kamskatka.” He had been on the verge of marrying her once, only “the guv’ner” had sworn to disinherit him, and had presented him with a sum that would stagger the imagination, and that had staggered the virtue of “Little Bright-Eyes.” Now Charlie had got leave from college, and had gone away in his automobile on the next best thing to a honeymoon. “The guv’ner” had made threats to disinherit another of his children also, sister Gwendolen, who had married an Italian marquis with a string of titles and a duelling record. They lived in his château, or rather had, until he had taken to firing the breakfast-dishes at her; then she had cabled for help, and the old gentleman had gone over to find out what were his Grace’s terms. So they had left Freddie all alone, and he with less than two thousand dollars in his pocket. Freddie was up in arms and meant serious business, as they would find in the end⁠—if there was no other way of bringing them to terms he would have his “Kittens” wire that she was about to marry him, and see what happened then.

So the cheerful youngster rattled on, until he was tired out. He smiled his sweetest smile at Jurgis, and then he closed his eyes, sleepily. Then he opened them again, and smiled once more, and finally closed them and forgot to open them.

For several minutes Jurgis sat perfectly motionless, watching him, and revelling in the strange sensations of the champagne. Once he stirred, and the dog growled; after that he sat almost holding his breath⁠—until after a while the door of the room opened softly, and the butler came in.

He walked toward Jurgis upon tiptoe, scowling at him; and Jurgis rose up, and retreated, scowling back. So until he was against the wall, and then the butler came close, and pointed toward the door. “Get out of here!” he whispered.

Jurgis hesitated, giving a glance at Freddie, who was snoring softly. “If you do, you son of a⁠—” hissed the butler, “I’ll mash in your face for you before you get out of here!”

And Jurgis wavered but an instant more. He saw “Admiral Dewey” coming up behind the man and growling softly, to back up his threats. Then he surrendered and started toward the door.

They went out without a sound, and down the great echoing staircase, and through the dark hall. At the front door he paused, and the butler strode close to him.

“Hold up your hands,” he snarled. Jurgis took a step back, clinching his one well fist.

“What for?” he cried; and then understanding that the fellow proposed to search him, he answered, “I’ll see you in hell first.”

“Do you want to go to jail?” demanded the butler, menacingly. “I’ll have the police⁠—”

“Have ’em!” roared Jurgis, with fierce passion. “But you won’t put your hands on me till you do! I haven’t touched anything in your damned house, and I’ll not have you touch me!”

So the butler, who was terrified lest his young master should waken, stepped suddenly to the door, and opened it. “Get out of here!” he said; and then as Jurgis passed through the opening, he gave him a ferocious kick that sent him down the great stone steps at a run, and landed him sprawling in the snow at the bottom.

Jurgis got up, wild with rage; but the door was shut and the great castle was dark and impregnable. Then the icy teeth of the blast bit into him, and he turned and went away at a run.

When he stopped again it was because he was coming to frequented streets and did not wish to attract attention. In spite of that last humiliation, his heart was thumping fast with triumph. He had come out ahead on that deal! He put his hand into his trousers’ pocket every now and then, to make sure that the precious hundred-dollar bill was still there.

Yet he was in a plight⁠—a curious and even dreadful plight, when he came to realize it. He