Appointment in Samarra - John O'Hara [66]
Honest? said Julian. That s right, said Butch. I won’t go to any reformatory. I ll run away before I do that.
Me too, said Butch. I m instigated. Oh, said Julian. I m instigated because I kicked Jewett in the shins and that makes me instigated the same as you are.
Well, I won’t go to any reformatory. They won’t catch me and send me to any reformatory. I ll run away before I get put away, said Julian. Well, what will we do? said Butch. Julian thought a minute. He watched them making up a train; the shifting engine collecting cars from all over the yard and backing them into a track near where they were sitting. Let s hop the freight and run away? said Julian. Gee, said Butch. I don t know where they go. A coalie you know where it goes and you can get off down at the Haven, but a freight.
We gotta do something. We don t want to get sent away to reformatory, do we? said Julian. Yes, but who wants to hop a freight that they don t know where it s going. Philly, maybe, without stopping, said Butch. Philly without stopping! You’re crazy. You know more about trains than that. It ll stop all right. They have to put water in the engine tender, don t they? They have to put on more cars and take them off, don t they? Don t they? Anyhow, what do we care where it s going? It s better than the reformatory, isn’t it? Do you know what they do there?
No.
Sure you do. They have priests there, Catholics, and they beat you and make you go to church every morning at five o clock. That s what I hear.
From who did you hear that? Who from? said Butch. From oh, lots of fellows told me that. I know it for a fact. That came from somebody that knows all about it and I m not allowed to tell you his name. So will you go? We can sell papers in Philly. I was there often and they have fellows the same age as us selling papers there, so so can we. Younger than us. I ve seen little kids I bet they weren t more than about nine and a half years old, they were selling papers right in the Bellevue-Stratford.
Aw, said Butch. They were so, said Julian. I bet you don t even know what the Bellevue-Stratford is. Where is it?
In Philly. Anybody knows that.
But what is it?
Oh, I don t know. You don t know everything.
See? You don t know. Well, it s the hotel where we always stay Julian was brought up then to the fact that if he was going to Philadelphia, this time he was not going to stay at the Bellevue-Stratford. Well, are you going with me?
I guess so.
They waited until the train was beginning to move, and then they got on the front platform of the caboose. They had to get off a couple of times at way stations, and finally they were caught. They were turned over to the railroad police in Reading, and were brought back to Gibbsville on the late train. Butch Doerflinger the elder, and Dr. English were standing on the platform of the Gibbsville station when the train pulled in. The elder Doerflinger had made many, too many, remarks about his son being a chip off the old block, and he was amused and a little proud of his son. Only twelve years old yet and hopping freights already. By Jesus, you don t know what kids are today, say, Doc? His plans were made: a good beating for young Butch and make him work on the delivery wagon every day. But William Dilworth English, M.D., was not thinking of the immediate punishment of his son; that was something which could be decided upon. He was not thinking of the glory of having a son who hopped freight trains. The thing that put him in the deep mood and gave him the heavy look that Julian saw on his face was that chip off the old block refrain of Butch Doerflinger s. William Dilworth English was thinking of his own life, the scrupulous, notebook honesty; the penny-watching, bill-paying, self-sacrificing honesty that had been his religion after his own father s suicide. And that was his reward: a son who turned out to be like his grandfather, a thief. Julian never stole anything else, but in his father s eyes he was always a thief. In college Julian about