The tattered man waved his hand. “Nary die,” he said. “All I want is some pea soup an’ a good bed. Some pea soup,” he repeated dreamfully.
The youth arose from the ground. “I wonder where he came from. I left him over there.” He pointed. “And now I find ’im here. And he was coming from over there, too.” He indicated a new direction. They both turned toward the body as if to ask of it a question.
“Well,” at length spoke the tattered man, “there ain’t no use in our stayin’ here an’ tryin’ t’ ask him anything.”
The youth nodded an assent wearily. They both turned to gaze for a moment at the corpse.
The youth murmured something.
“Well, he was a jim-dandy, wa’n’t ’e?” said the tattered man as if in response.
They turned their backs upon it and started away. For a time they stole softly, treading with their toes. It remained laughing there in the grass.
“I’m commencin’ t’ feel pretty bad,” said the tattered man, suddenly breaking one of his little silences. “I’m commencin’ t’ feel pretty damn’ bad.”
The youth groaned. “Oh Lord!” He wondered if he was to be the tortured witness of another grim encounter.
But his companion waved his hand reassuringly. “Oh, I’m not goin’ t’ die yit! There too much dependin’ on me fer me t’ die yit. No, sir! Nary die! I can’t! Ye’d oughta see th’ swad a’ chil’ren I’ve got, an’ all like that.”