“’Cause he ain’t dead yit.”
“Didn’t I kill him?”
“Gosh, no! Your pistol missed fire. Guerd Larey’s ’live as you be.”
“Do you mean to say,” cried Adam Larey, “that I’ve been expiating Guerd Larey’s death in the desert for seventeen years with sandstorms and tarantulas and everything, and he ain’t dead? This is an outrage! Somebody’ll pay for this!”
“Go easy, young man,” said Merrywell. “Ain’t you been workin’ fer Mr. Zane Grey? Well, don’t you know as Mr. Grey don’t never let his heroes do nothin’ ’at’s really bad?”
BY WAY OF EPILOGUE
THE DRY LAND
Variations
Suggested by T. S. Eliot’s Poem
THE WASTE LAND
I APRIL FIRST