“Then I felt sure ‘twas all off. I’d done everything I could think of, and I’d prayed just as hard as I knew how, and I was sure no one ever meant it more’n I did or wanted it any more, and I knew, of course, God had seen the whole thing and could do it if he wanted to and that he didn’t want to, and that she was clear dead. I kind of half set and half laid down on the floor a little while longer, tryin’ to think about it and what I was goin’ to do. But I couldn’t make any plans; I kep’ thinkin’ about how it had all happened, and it begun to seem as if it wa’n’t really me that hit her with the poker, but as if both of us was somebody else and I was sort of dreamin’ about it all. Ain’t you ever had them kind of feelin’s when somethin’ awful has happened? But, of course, nothin’ like that ever happened to you. I thought most about that beefsteak, and how I stopped and bought it, and didn’t go in and get a drink, and all the time it seemed to me just as if that was where I made my big mistake. And then I thought how awful near I come to goin’ into the saloon instead of the butcher-shop, and then some of the time I’d kind of feel as if mebbe I was goin’ into the saloon after all, and it wa’n’t goin’ to happen. Don’t you know how it is when anybody’s died or anything happened? You think about everything that’s done, so as to see if mebbe you can’t make it come out some other way after all? Well, that’s the way I done about every little thing, and every word we both spoke till I hit her with the poker. Another thing where I almost missed killin’ her was that poker; that coal pail didn’t belong in the settin’ room at all, but ought to have been in the kitchen, and I don’t know how it ever got in there. Mebbe the boy lugged it in for a drum. You know he didn’t have many playthings, or mebbe she started a little fire in the settin’ room, for ‘twas the first cold day. I don’t see how it could have been that either, for she was washin’ that day and wouldn’t have any time to set in there. But I don’t know as it makes any difference; the coal pail was in the settin’ room and the poker was in the pail, and they was right before my eyes at the time. If they hadn’t been I never would’ve used the poker. When she stood up and told me to kill her, I’d most likely struck her with my fists and that would only knocked her down. But anyhow it didn’t do any good to go over it, for I couldn’t go into the saloon instead of the butcher-shop, and I couldn’t get that coal pail out of the settin’ room, and it had all been done—and she was dead! And I’d killed her! After I’d went over this a long time I made myself stop so I could do somethin’ that would be some use, for I knew there was lots to be done before mornin’, and I hadn’t a minute to lose. I knew I must get up off’n the floor and try to act like a man, and not give up, no matter how bad it was. But before I got up I thought I’d just take one more look to make sure that there wa’n’t no use. So I went over her again, just as I’d done before, and it came out the same way anyhow. I didn’t much think it was any use then and would’ve just about as soon begun at the head and got through with it right away.
“After I had looked her over again I got up and set down in a chair to make up my mind what to do. I hadn’t been there very long when I knew I couldn’t figure it out; ‘twas too much for me the way I was, and so I thought I’d just quit tryin’ and do a few things first. And then I wondered what time ‘twas. I hadn’t thought anything about the time before, but I s’posed it must be almost mornin’ for just then I heard an express wagon drive along the street, and anyhow it seemed an awful long while since I got home. The clock was right up on the mantel-piece and tickin’ loud, but I hadn’t thought of lookin’ at it before and didn’t even know it was in the room. I looked up and seen it was goin’ and that ‘twas only a quarter to twelve. I was surprised that it wa’n’t no later, and wondered how it could be, and just then it struck and I kind of kep’ count because I was sort of thinkin’ of the clock and it stopped strikin’ at nine. Then I thought somethin’ must be wrong with the clock too, and I looked back again and seen that I’d made a mistake in the hands and ‘twas only nine o’clock. I couldn’t believe this was so, but the clock was goin’ all right. Then I kind braced up a little and thought what was to be done. First, I looked ‘round the room. I told you, didn’t I, that we et in the settin’ room? It was a settin’ room and a dinin’ room both. Sometimes we et in the kitchen, but that was pretty small. The table stood there with the dirty dishes just as we’d got through eatin’. There was the plates and knives and forks, and the teacups and the big platter with some of that steak left, and the gravy gettin’ kind of hard like lard all ‘round it. The coal pail was there and standin’ ‘round the table where we’d set to eat, except the rockin’ chair which was over by the stove. I looked at all them things, and then I looked down at the floor, and there she lay with her head over toward the closet door and her feet up almost under the table. It was an awful sight to look at her on the floor, but there wa’n’t nothin’ else to do, so I looked her all over as careful as I had before, then I got kind of scart; I hadn’t never been in a room alone with anyone that was dead, except at the morgue; but, of course, this was worse than anything of that kind. I’d always heard more or less about ghosts and haunted houses and things like that, and didn’t believe anything of the kind, but they seemed to come back now when I looked over where she was layin’. I was afraid of ever’thing, not of people but of ghosts and things I couldn’t tell nothin’ about. I knew she was dead and must have gone somewhere, and most likely she was right ‘round here either in the bedroom lookin’ at the boy or out here seein’ how I felt and what I was goin’ to do with her. Just then I heard somethin’ move over by the closet and it scart me almost to death. I knew it must be her and couldn’t bear to see her unless she could come to life on the floor. Finally I looked around to where I heard the noise and then I seen it was the curtain; the window was down a little at the top. I went and put up the window, and then hated to turn ‘round and look back where she lay. Then I went to the bedroom door and opened it about half way just so the light wouldn’t fall on the bed and wake him up, but so I could hear him breathe and it wouldn’t be quite so lonesome. Ever’thing was awful still and like a ghost except the clock, after I got to thinkin’ of it. Then it ticked so loud I was almost ‘fraid they’d hear it in the next house. When I got the bedroom door open I thought I must do somethin’ about her and the room before I made up my mind what plan to take about myself.
“First I went and hunted up the cat. I’d always heard about that, so I went into the kitchen and there she was sleepin’ under the stove. I couldn’t help wishin’ I was the cat, although I had never thought of any such thing before. Then I took her in my hand and went to the outside door and threw her out in the yard and shut the door tight. Then I came back in the settin’ room and thought about what had to be done. I looked over again at her and then I saw her eyes still lookin’ right up at the ceilin’, and round and shinin’ like glass marbles. I thought that wa’n’t the way they ought to be and that all the dead folks I’d ever seen had their eyes shut. So I went over and got down by her head and kind of pushed the lids over her eyes, same as I’d always heard they did, and put some nickels on ‘em to keep ‘em down. I don’t know how I done it, but I felt as if it had to be done, and, of course, they wa’n’t no one else to do it, and nobody knows what they can do until they have to. And then I saw that there was a good deal of blood on her face, and I wanted her to look decent though I didn’t know then what would be done with her, and I went into the kitchen to the sink and got a pan of water and some soap and an old towel, and washed all the blood off that I could find, and wiped her face careful to make her look as well as I could. Once or twice while I was doin’ it I kind of felt down to her heart, but I knew it wa’n’t no use. Still I thought it couldn’t do any hurt, and that God might’ve thought I wa’n’t scart enough so he waited; but I didn’t feel nothin’ there. Then I kind of smoothed back her hair like I’d seen her do sometimes. ‘Twas all scattered round on the floor and pretty full of blood. I couldn’t very well get the blood out, but I fixed the hair all back together the best I could. Then I noticed that her jaw kind of hung down and I pushed it up and tied a towel around it to keep it there, and then she looked pretty well, except that great long gash over her face and head where the poker went.
“Then I thought I’d have to fix up the room and the floor a little bit. I sort of pushed back the chairs and the table so I could get a little more room, and then moved her a little way and straightened her out some. First before I moved her I got that paper I’d been readin’ and laid it on the floor and then I took up her shoulders and lifted ‘em over to one side and laid her head on the paper. Then I moved the rest of her over to match her head and shoulders. There was a lot of blood on the floor where she’d been, and I knew I had to do somethin’ about that.
“There was a nice Japanese rug on the floor, and her head had struck just on the edge of it over by the door. I’d bought her the rug for a Christmas present last year, and she liked it better’n anything she had in the house, but it was beginnin’ to wear out some. A part of the blood was on the floor and a part on the rug. So I went and got another pan of water and the soap and towel and washed the floor; then I washed the rug the best I could, and lifted it up and washed in under it, and then threw away the water and got some more and washed it all over again. When I seen that the last water was a little bloody I thought mebbe I’d better go over it again, so I got some more water and went over it the third time, then I threw the water out and washed the towel as good as I could, and went back in and looked ‘round the room to see if there was anything else to do. Just then I noticed the poker that I hadn’t thought of before. I took it to the kitchen and washed it all over and then dried it and then put it in the stove and covered it with ashes, and then laid it down on the hearth; then I went back in and seen that ever’thing was finished and that she was all right, and there wa’n’t nothin’ to do except to make my plans. But before I go on and tell you what I done with her, let me speak to the guard a minute.”
Hank and Jim got up once more and looked out through the bars. The guard was still sitting on the stool and asked what he could do.
“What time is it?” said Jim.
“Oh, it’s early yet, only a little after twelve,” he replied. “Wouldn’t you like a little more whiskey? I’ve got another bottle here, and I can get all I want down to the office. If I was you I’d drink it. I don’t think whiskey does any hurt. I’m always arguing with that other guard about it. He’s bug-house on whiskey.”
Jim took the whiskey and then turning to the guard, with an anxious face, said, “You’re sure nothin’ has come for me?”
“No, there’s nothin’ come.” But after a few minutes he added, “I’ll go over to the telephone pretty soon and call up the telegraph office and make sure.”