Higgins was then in the snake-room of the place--a foul compartment
into which the stupefied and delirious are thrown when they are
penniless--searching the pockets of the drunken boy from Toronto for
some leavings of his wages. "Not a cent!" said he, bitterly. "They
haven't left him a cent! They've got every penny of three months'
wages! Don't blame the boy," he pursued, in pain and infinite
sympathy, easing the lad's head on the floor; "it isn't all his
fault. He came out of the camps without telling me--and some cursed
tin-horn gambler met him, I suppose--and he's only a boy--and they
didn't give him a show--and, oh, the pity of it! he's been here only
two days!"
The boy was in a stupor of intoxication, but presently revived a little,
and turned very sick.
"That you, Pilot?" he said.
"Yes, Jimmie."
"A' right."
"Feel a bit better now?"
"Uh-huh."
The boy sighed and collapsed unconscious: Higgins remained in the
weltering filth of the room to ease and care for him. "Don't wait for
me, old man," said he, looking up from the task. "I'll be busy for a
while."
III
IN THE SNAKE-ROOM
Frank necessity invented the snake-room of the lumber-town saloon.
There are times of gigantic debauchery--the seasons of paying off. A
logger then once counted one hundred and fifty men drunk in a single
hotel of a town of twelve hundred inhabitants where fourteen other
bar-rooms heartily flourished. They overflowed the snake-rooms--they lay
snoring on the bar-room floor--they littered the office--they were
doubled up on the stair-landings and stretched out in the corridors.
Drunken men stumbled over drunken men and fell helpless beside them; and
still, in the bar-room (said he)--beyond the men who slept or writhed
on the floor and had been kicked out of the way--the lumber-jacks were
clamoring three deep for whiskey at the bar. Hence the snake-room: one
may not eject drunken men into bitter weather and leave them to freeze.
Bartenders and their helpers carry them off to the snake-room when
they drop; others stagger in of their own notion and fall upon their
reeking fellows. There is no arrangement of the bodies--but a squirming
heap of them, from which legs and arms protrude, wherein open-mouthed
bearded faces appear in a tangle of contorted limbs. Men moan and
laugh and sob and snore; and some cough with early pneumonia, some
curse, some sing, some horribly grunt; and some, delirious, pick at
spiders in the air, and talk to monkeys, and scream out to be saved
from dogs and snakes. Men reel in yelling groups from the bar to
watch the spectacle of which they will themselves presently be a part.
IV
THE CLOTH IN QUEER PLACES
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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