He rubbed his face and hands, peered around the corner to see the harmless engine withdrawing in the distance then got up and crossed the street. The nearness of the familiar shop windows, as he passed them one after another, comforted him not a little. On the next corner was the grocer's, the butcher's shop this side of it, and the shoemaker's shop was over the rear of the grocery. The mingled butcher-shop and grocery smell pervaded the corner, comforting, too, with its associations. He turned the corner and climbed slowly the outside wooden stairway, with the signboard at the top, “James Shays,” and leaning over the railing, he saw a faint light in the windows of the shop. He entered the hall, turned the knob of the door softly, opened the door part way, and peered in. The table stood in its ordinary central place, on it were a bottle, a tin cup, and a small lit lamp with a smoky chimney. The work bench was unchanged in place. The door of the inner room beyond stood open, but that room was dark. On the pile of hides in the corner some clothes, taken from the hooks overhead, had been thrown, and on the clothes lay Coglan, face downward and asleep. Allen thought, “He's sleeping on my clothes,” and stepped in, closing the door softly behind him. CHAPTER XIV--IN WHICH HICKS COMES TO HIS REST |HE stood a moment with his hands against the closed door behind him, listening to Coglan's heavy breathing. Then he crossed noiselessly to the table, took the lamp and went through to the inner room. There were two cot beds in it. Shays lay asleep on one in all his clothes, except his shoes. The other bed was broken down, a wreck on the floor. Evidently Coglan had been using it, and it was not built for slumberers of his weight, so he had gone back to the hides that had often furnished him with a bed before. Shays turned his face away from the light and raised one limp hand in half-conscious protest. He opened his eyes and blinked stupidly. Then he sat up. “Don't make a noise, Jimmy,” said Allen. “I'm going pretty soon.” “G-goin'--wha' for?” stammered Shays. “Wha's that for?” “I've broke jail. I'm going to change clothes and shave, then I'll light out. You won't see me again, Jimmy.” He sat down on the side of the bed and rocked to and fro, twisting his fingers. “You're decent, Jimmy. When they get to posting notices and rewards, you see, you don't do a thing. Nor you don't wake Coglan. He's a damn hound. See?” Shays shook his head, indicating either a promise or his general confusion and despondency. “Wha' for, Hicksy?” Allen was silent a moment. “Jim-jams, Jimmy,” he said at last. “You'll die of those all right, and Coglan will squat on you. You ain't bright, but you've been white to me.” “Tha's right! Tom don't like you. Hicksy, tha's right,” whispered Shays with sudden trembling. “Maybe he'd--'sh! We won't wake him, Hicksy. Wha' for?” “He's sleeping on my clothes, so I'll take yours. Get me your razor.”