Fable, A - William Faulkner [205]
'No,' the sergeant said. 'When we get it into the lorry,' He had not wanted the assignment and indeed he did not belong here because this time they simply took the valise away from him in one concerted move of the whole twelve of them, not viciously, savagely, just rapidly: with no heat at all but almost impersonal, al-most inattentive, as you might rip a last year's calendar from the wall to kindle a fire with it; the ex-picklock didn't even pretend to conceal his action this time, producing his instrument in plain view, the others crowding around him as he opened the valise. Or they thought the rapidity and ease of the valise's rape had been because they were too many for the sergeant, staring down at the single bottle it contained with shock then outrage and then with something like terror while the sergeant stood back and over them, laughing steadily down at them with a sort of vindictive and triumphant pleasure.
Where's the rest of it?' one said.
'I threw it away,' the sergeant said. Toured it out,'
Toured it out, hell,' another said. 'He sold it,'
When?' another said. When did he have a chance to? Or pour it out either,'
While we were all asleep in the lorry coming out here,'
'I wasn't asleep,' the second said.
'All right, all right,' the ex-picklock said. 'What does it matter what he did with it? It's gone. We'll drink this one. Where's your corkscrew?' he said to a third one. But the man already had the corkscrew out, opening the bottle. 'All right,' the ex-picklock said to the sergeant, 'you go on and report to the officer and we'll take it up and be putting it into the coffin,'
'Right,' the sergeant said, taking up the empty valise. 'I want to get out of here too. I dont even need a drink to prove I dont like Tomorrow this,' He went on. They emptied the bottle rapidly, passing it from one to another, and flung it away.
'All right,' the ex-picklock said. 'Grab that thing up and let's get out of here,' Because already he was the leader, none to say or know or even care when it had happened. Because they were not drunk now, not inebriates but madmen, the last brandy lying in their stomachs cold and solid as balls of ice as they almost ran with the stretcher up the steep stairs.
'Where is it, then?' the one pressing behind the ex-picklock said.
'He gave it to that corporal riding up front,' the ex-picklock said. Through that panel while we were asleep,' They burst out into the air, the world, earth and sweet air again where the lorry waited, the driver and the corporal standing with a group of men some distance away. They had all heard the ex-picklock and dropped the stretcher without even pausing and were rushing to-ward the lorry until the ex-picklock stopped them. 'Hold it,' he said. Til do it,' But the missing bottles were nowhere in the lorry. The ex-picklock returned to the stretcher.
'Call that corporal over here,' one said. 'I know how to make him tell where it is,'
'Fool,' the ex-picklock said. 'If we start something now, dont you know what'll happen? He'll call the MP's and put us all under arrest and get a new guard from the adjutant in Verdun. We cant do anything here. We've got to wait till we get back to Verdun,'
'What'll we do in Verdun?' another said. 'Buy some liquor? With what? You couldn't get one franc out of the whole lot of us with a suction pump,'
'Morache can sell his watch,' a fourth said.
'But will he?' a fifth said. They all looked at Morache.
'Forget that now,' Morache said. Ticklock's right; the first thing to do is to get back to Verdun. Come on. Let's get this thing into that box,' They carried the stretcher to the lorry and lifted the sheeted body into it. The lid of the coffin had not been fastened down; a hammer and nails were inside the coffin. They tumbled the body into it, whether face-up or face down they didn't know and didn't bother, and replaced the top and caught the nails enough to hold it shut. Then the sergeant with his now empty valise climbed through the rear door and sat again on the coffin; the corporal and the