Books › The Red Book 1911-10: Vol 17 Iss 6, 1911 › scan 100
Scan 100
The Red Book 1911-10: Vol 17 Iss 6, 1911
48 lines. Read by computer on 14 September 2026. Printed page 1061. See the scan on archive.org.
1walked up and down, indicating occasionally by a volume of words which he knew to be unintelligible to those he was directing, the fact that he was not pleased.
3"Ye've got ter talk to 'em," he said genially to Herr Amsler; "they're used to it in the auld countree."
5He spoke with a certain sympathy that appealed to the sore heart of his hearer.
7"So," the latter responded quickly. "They work good?"
9The Irishman smiled. "Not bad—fer guineas," he admitted with condescension. "Hurry up, there, Benedetty! Don't go to sleep, now!"
11Benedetto applied the pick with fresh energy.
13"How much?" asked Herr Amsler.
15The Irishman looked puzzled.
17"How much do you pay?" Herr Amsler repeated patiently.
19"Two dollars a day," the Irishman replied promptly.
21"Will you take me?" asked the German.
23The Irishman stood stock still. "I didn't understand, sorr," he said. "What was you askin'?"
25Herr Amsler looked at him.
27"I am willing to work," he said quietly. "They will not object to work with me?"
29"It's harrd work," said the Irishman, suppressing his astonishment. "You don't look to be used to it."
31"But yes," rejoined the musician gently. "I can work good."
33And he stood before the Irishman in dignified humility as he had done before the young lawyer in his office.
35"Take off yer coat, then," said the overseer gruffly. "We're short o' men."
37Herr Amsler removed his outer garments, placing them under a meager tree—one of a row newly set out—as a soft bed for his violin, and when the Italians stared at this astonishing spectacle the Irishman let out at them a torrent of words so intimidating that they desisted at once. It was only for a moment that their overseer experienced a slight reactionary fear. "He might be one of them student fellers," he thought distrustfully. "Them as studies conditions among the working men. Maybe the fiddle is a blind."
39But looking at Herr Amsler's bowed back he hated himself for a suspicious fool.
41Benedetto was again staring, quite oblivious of the possibility of calling down upon himself a fresh outburst of wrath. In his soft eyes played a liquid, golden light that changed their hue twenty times a minute. The Irishman, pretending not to notice him, went on down the line.
43Left to himself, Benedetto thereupon touched Herr Amsler lightly on the arm with his blackened forefinger. In a series of rapid gestures he indicated the superior quality of the musician's garments, and their unsuitability to the uses to which they were now to be put. Standing back gracefully, with clasped hands, he well-nigh wept over the desecration. Then, having unmistakably conveyed his meaning, he began to remove the overalls he was wearing. With a motion of utter scorn he pointed to his own shabby trousers, and made as if to spit upon them. All animation now, and pouring forth musical vowel sounds in a voice richly melodious, he indicated the desirability—nay, the necessity—of the German's instantly putting them on. It would have been useless to object.
45The fit was bad, Herr Amsler being so much taller than his companion, and it was necessary to turn up the German's trousers several inches. This accomplished, the Italian's face seamed itself into millions of tiny wrinkles; he smiled with his eyes, his forehead, his lips and his whole body. Seeing the overseer approaching in a leisurely manner, he presented his back to his companion as if he had done with him forever; his vivacity collapsed like a pricked balloon, and he resumed his work in his former half-hearted way, having calculated to a certainty, long ago, just how much he must do in order to avoid being turned off.
47On the following morning Herr Amsler appeared with an outfit of his own, gathered together through the agency of the resourceful pawn-broker.
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