We started to run. The crowd, mostly big unshaken miners, wheeled
around to see what was happening. People began to close in on the man
who crawled and whimpered in the mud.
Sam Kapper was a hunter, supplying animals to zoos and circuses and
carnivals. He'd given us good deals a couple of times, when we weren't
too broke, and we were pretty friendly.
I hadn't seen him for three seasons. I remembered him as a bronzed,
hard-bitten guy, lean and tough as a twist of tung wire. I felt sick,
looking down at him.
Bucky started to help him up. Kapper was crying, and he jerked all over
like animals I've seen that were scared to death. Some guy leaned over
and put a cigarette in his mouth and lighted it for him.
I was thinking about Kapper, then, and I didn't pay much attention. I
only caught a glimpse of the man's face as he straightened up. I didn't
realize until later that he looked familiar.
We got Kapper inside the shack. It turned out to be a cheap bar, with a
couple of curtained booths at the back. We got him into one and pulled
the curtain in a lot of curious faces. Kapper dragged hard on the
cigarette. The man that gave it to him was gone.