They went in boats,
carrying with them kegs of beer, to a deep ravine clothed on both sides by
heavy woods. In the boat with Sam sat the red-haired young man, who was
called Jake and who talked loudly of the time they would have in the
woods, and boasted that he was the instigator of the trip.
"I thought of it," he said over and over again.
Sam wondered why he had been invited. It was a soft October day and in the
ravine he sat looking at the trees splashed with colour and breathing
deeply of the air, his whole body relaxed, grateful for the day of rest.
Jake came and sat beside him.
"What are you?" he asked bluntly. "We know you are no working man."
Sam told him a half-truth.
"You are right enough about that; I have money enough not to have to work.
I used to be a business man. I sold guns. But I have a disease and the
doctors have told me that if I do not work out of doors part of me will
die."
The man from his own gang who had invited him on the trip came up to them,
bringing Sam a foaming glass of beer. He shook his head.
"The doctor says it will not do," he explained to the two men.
The red-haired man called Jake began talking.
"We are going to have a fight with Ed," he said.
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