Читать книгу The Workers: An Experiment in Reality. The West онлайн

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We were paid at once, Clark a half-dollar coin and I two silver quarters. We held our money with the grip of drowning men upon a saving support. We sat down upon a doorstep to rest. We were panting hard, and the circles under Clark’s eyes had grown darker, and his thin bloodless lips were quivering as with cold. But his spirits were rising, and his eyes grew brighter every moment, and his pale face, already flushed with exercise, glowed again with the pleasure of anticipating the sure breaking of our fast.

When we set off, Clark was in the full swing of a provident plan.

“There’s lots of saloons,” he said, “where you can get a free lunch with a glass of beer.” And he began to point them out to me along our route. Large signs in front competed for the drifting trade. On one was painted a huge schooner brimming over with frothing beer, and it bore the legend: “The largest glass of beer for five cents in Chicago.” Another sign claimed for its shop, “The best free lunch in the city,” and others told of hot sausages with every drink, or a certain number of oysters in any style, or hot stews at choice, and bread and cold meats and cheese in unstinted abundance.