sound. People stood silently in doorways or lounged on steps.
They looked at Jake with yellow, expressionless faces. He stared back at them with wide, brown eyes. He walked jerkily, and now and then he wiped his mouth with the hairy back of his hand.
At the end of Weavers Lahere was a vat block. It had once been used as a junk yard for old automobiles. Rusted pieaery and torn iubes still littered the ground. A trailer arked in one er of the lot, and near-by was a flying-jinny partly covered with vas.
Jake approached slowly. Two little younguns in overalls stood before the flying-jinny. hem, seated on a box, a Negro man drowsed ie sunshine, his knees collapsed against each other. In one hand he held a saelted chocolate.
Jake watched him stick his fingers in the miry dy and then lick them slowly.
?Whos the manager of this outfit?』
The Negro thrust his two sweet fingers between his lips and rolled over them with his tongue. He a red-headed man, he said when he had fihat all I knon.』
Wheres he now?』
He over there behind that largest wagon.』
Jake slipped off his tie as he walked across the grass and staffed it into his pocket. The sun was beginning to set in the west. Above the black line of housetops the sky was warm crimson. The owner of the show stood smoking a cigarette by himself. His red hair sprang up like a sponge oop of his head aared at Jake with gray, flabby eyes.
"You the manager?』
*Uh-huh. Pattersons my name.』
I e about the job in this ms paper.』
*Yeah. I dont want no greenhorn. I need a experienced meic.』
I got plenty of experience, Jake said.
What you ever done?』
Tve worked as a weaver and loom-fixer. Ive worked in garages and an automobile assembly shop. All sorts of different things.』
Patterson guided him toward the partly covered flying-jinny.
The motionless wooden horses were fantasti the late afternoon sun. They pranced up statically, pierced by their dull gilt bars. The horse Jake had a splintery wooden cra its dingy rump and the eyes walled blind and frantic, shreds of paint peeled from the sockets. The motionless merry-go-round seemed to Jake like something in a liquor dream.
I want a experienced meic to run this ahe works in good shape, Patterson said.
?I do that all right.』
If s a two-handed job, Patterson explained. Youre in charge of the whole attra. Besides looking after the maery you got to keep the crowd in order. You got to be sure that everybody gets on has a ticket. You got to be sure that the tickets are O.K. and not some old dance-hall ticket. Everybody wants to ride them horses, and youd be surprised what niggers will try to put over on you whenthey dont have no money. You got to keep three eyes open all the time.』
Patterson led him to the maery ihe circle of horses and pointed out the various parts. He adjusted a lever and the thin jangle of meical music began. The wooden cavalcade around them seemed to cut them off from the rest of the world. When the horses stopped, Jake asked a few questions and operated the meism himself.
The fellow I had quit on me, Patterson said when they had e out again into the lot. I always hate to break in a new man. When do I start?』
Tomorrow afternoon. We run six days and nights a week—beginning at four and shutting up at twelve. Youre to e about three and help get things going. And it takes about a hour after the show to fold u