And now they command. The sick man was not afraid, as in his place I would have been. There was no fear in the eyes that now looked at me so steadily. It might be the man did not mind the fact that he was about to be robbed and perhaps his body had known so much pain that the additional pain of a beating would not too much matter.
As for myself I was thinking beyond my own depths, thinking of certain things as possible in another that could never have been possible in myself. I was a coward trying to think the thoughts of a brave man. From the very moment when I first became aware of the actuality of the man Alonzo Berners I began doing something I had never done before, I began to live in another, suffer in another, love another perhaps.
If the man’s eyes were issuing a command what did he want? I grew resentful. What right had he to command me? Did he think me a fool? Unconsciously I had begun to resist a command. “I won’t. You got yourself into this pickle, now get yourself out.”
What a plague to have an imagination! It seemed to me a kind of wordless conversation, something after the following manner, now began between myself, the bartender and the man at the table.
From the bloodshot eyes of the bartender leaning over his bar words were now coming. I leaned forward to listen.
“Ah! Bah! I do not like this affair. You have fallen into the hands of these cheap thugs and from the looks of you I should say you are a rather decent sort. To me, situated as I am in life, that would not make any difference if the men robbing you were fellows I could respect. If any one of a dozen men I know chose to hit you over the head and throw your body into the river I would not lift a hand to prevent it. As the matter stands I think I will. I do not fancy these dogs you are with eating so fat a calf. As for myself you are not fair game. Poor chap, you are sick. I cannot leave my job here but the fellow over there at the table will take you away. Speak to him. He will do as you wish.”
What a chattering of unheard voices my imagination had created in the room!
Words from the living eyes of the sick man.
“It does not matter about being robbed. If these men beat or kill me it does not matter. The point is I am tired now.” The eyes smiled.
And now the man at the table was looking directly at me and his words, created, you understand in my fancy, were directed at me. “Well, come on lad. Lift me up in your arms and carry me home. It is only because you are young and inexperienced you are afraid.”