Page 8 Scribulus the right of the door. It was immobile as a statue, but the yellow eyes seemed to pour forth pin points of yellow light. Ruffing reached out carefully and touched the head. He shuddered; it was cold and stiff. A feeling of revulsion passed over him and he jerked back. "A good bit of taxidermy," he stammered unsteadily. "What should you think if I said it was alive?" asked the Doctor, and his eyes all at once were bright with the brightness of new marbles. Ruffing drew in his breath. "Incredible. Why How could it be alive?" The shadow of a smirk passed over the Doctor's face. "Just an experiment of mine," he said. "I don't know how it will end." Outside the door they shook hands mechanically. Ruffing dropped the other's fingers as hurriedly as he could, though they clung to him a little. He walked away, vaguely dreaded something unexplainable. His thoughts kept reverting to the cat those horrible eyes staring out of that cold, motionless body. The night air revived his spirits somewhat. By the time he reached his room, he was feeling better. He undressed hurriedly and climbed into bed and lay thinking how fortunate he had been to patch up this last love affair. His thoughts reviewed the long list of his loves. He had looked forward to a marriage with wealth. A glorious life of ease and luxury had been his aim. He slid gracefully into restful slumber. No worry nor care hampered his mind. Ruffing awakened slowly. He gazed at the sunlight creeping into the room. His body felt peculiar. It felt large and awkward. Well, he would lie still a moment longer; there was no hurry. He lay a moment soaking in the pleasant softness of the bed. What a wonderful world, he thought. Finally he decided to spring out in one jump. He would jump now now Great Scott! He couldn't move; his body was frozen solid. What in Hades! His thoughts shot back to the cat. He thought of the cold stiff head and those yellow fixed eyes. That devil had doped those drinks! Some spike! No, no it couldn't be true! He hoped to hell he was dreaming. He would wake up soon and have a delightful whiskey and soda. He swallowed in anticipation. But not a muscle moved. He lay immobile. But his mind raced wildly. Something must happen to break the awful silence. He would go crazy if something didn't shatter the coldness and stiffness of his body. Suddenly the telephone jangled. That was Harriet calling him. He made another frantic effort to rise. An hour passed. He heard quick footsteps on the stairs and the sound of small heels tapping. The door burst open. A slender full-breasted woman crossed the threshold and paused. She spoke in golden tones, rich and musical. "Why don't you answer the phone, George? Are you still asleep? If you are, prepare to be disturbed." Then her manner became earnest. Her eyes grew soft and her voice tremulous. "You must rise, sweetheart, and go away with me today. I cannot spare you much longer." But now she had advanced close to the bed. Ruffing's eyes remained steadily gazing at her. Half consciously he felt the muscles of his forehead trying to form into those minute corrugations. If he could only say a word or move even an eyelash! But no he remained as he was. "Darling, you're not angry, are you ?" Her tones were plaintive. "Can't you speak, dear? Don't look at me that way." She wrung her hands desperately. She walked around to the other side of the bed. His head remained fixed. He could not follow her movements. In that moment, it seemed to him, love was born. His heart filled. A woman of the gods, and he had played with her. His soul grew sick. She returned. Her fingers reached out to touch him, but her hand was withdrawn quickly. She gasped a startled "0" and then drew back, a look of horror on her face. Then she fell on her knees by his side, crying wildly. Her hands covered her face. She sobbed brokenly, "George, George!" Suddenly, as though a saving thought had struck her, she jumped up and ran to the telephone. "Jim," she was saying, "Hurry, Jim, come to George's apartment. You know, you said if ever I needed you I need you now how I need you!" She stood over his bed, her tears streaming. He concentrated his faculties into a compact effort, driving his mind to contact hers, to convey his message. If only for once in his life he could tell his affection sincerely! The attempt was futile. Not even an eyelid trembled. He was powerless. His fear returned. He blubbered mutely without Continued on Page 18 Spring Issue Page 9 ALMOST HUMAN By Lloyd Jacobsen Delbert Hien, known as "Hienie" to the bootleggers along Fourteenth street, is a little red-headed Dutchman who does the "lug and muckle" for the Dowell Ice Company. His ice route covers a portion of the toughest territory in town, consisting mainly of twenty-eight "speak-easies" and their corresponding upstairs furnished rooms, where practically any questionable commodity is furnished. I pressed my elbows numbly on the bar of the Club Smoker and clutched a mug of beer in both hands. As I dangled my upper lip teasingly into the icy amber liquor, Hienie came waddling in, his stubby left arm outstretched while his right hand gripped a pair of tongs loaded with an immense chunk of dripping ice. He greeted me with a glistening grin and grunted as he hoisted the ice over the bar to the pink-face pet, a bartender of the first water. I patted the little Dutchman on his salty, sweat-stained shirt and with a rough and thick tongue I asked "Hienie, ol' man, will you rest yourself a bit and have a drink of beer with me?" His little gray eyes closed into two tiny slits, and his generous mouth slid back with a sleeve-valve motion from his prominent teeth. "I sure will, big shot; fact is, I feel a terrible impulse to go on a real 'bender'. You know, Slim, I'm getting awful chicken-hearted." I perked up, knowin' he had something on his chest, because whenever Hienie described himself as being anything but the strongest, toughest little man on earth, he was either sulking over one of his wife's onslaughts, or had been deservingly disciplined by some other large lady. I just said, "What's eatin' on you, Delbert?" and motioned for another refill. Hienie looked at the 'head' on his mug of beer, then he went on. "I had a brawl in here once. It was when big Ben Dotey's shady lady ran the joint upstairs. This dame was kind of deaf, and I always had a tough time convincing her that the ice bill was twice as big as she thought it was; anyway, we wasn't very friendly. She went away once without leavin' any word as to when she would be back. Well, I used to romp up those stairs every day with fifty pounds of ice and find the place all locked up. I kept it up for about three days, getting madder and madder each time; so I just quit goin', and decided she could call the plant when she got back. About a week later, I was totin' a chunk in here when I heard her come hollerin' down stairs. She came dashin' out and wanted to know why the hell I hadn't been fetchin' her no ice. I just asked if she thought I wanted to muckle a load up and down them stairs for a week to keep in practice 'til she got back, and . . . well, I don't know what she thought I said, but it must have been pretty much the same as I was thinkin', 'cause she began to holler. . . . "'Don't you call me a tough old hen, . . . you rotten little scum! I'll knock your block off. Then she started in an' called me everything I've ever been called before. "I decided right quick that she could go soak her head as far as I was concerned. Dowells' had a monopoly on the ice business here, and losin' her just made it that much easier on me. I climbed in my truck and drove off, leavin' her shoutin' at a rapidly collectin' mob. "A couple of days later Pete here told me big Ben Dotey was looking for me with blood in his eyes. I'd thought maybe this dame would go cryin' to him with some story about the horrible way I beat her with my ice tongs. I had me a glass of beer and cleared out. The next day when I came around I thought Ben would be back on his run he fired an engine on the B. and C. but when I came in here the fellows out in front all acted kind of funny, and I suspected maybe Ben was on a pretty rough jog and would still be lookin' for me.