Benches and two long tables set with tin cups and plates filled it comfortably. The smell of frying meat was in the air and through the door at the far end Kracha saw his sister at the stove.

She heard them approach and spoke without turning, querulously: "Nah, what do you want?"

"I'm hungry. I've come a long way and I'm hungry."

"Wait for supper." But almost before she finished speaking she had turned, a puzzled look on her face.

Then she shrieked.

Andrej came running in from the yard, the ax still in his hand. In the doorway Dubik leaned on his crutch and never stopped grinning.

K,

-RACHA'S story of his walk from New York was a nine days' wonder. The first time he told it he had Francka watching him, listening to every word, and he was shrewd enough to keep it simple. When he came out of Castle Garden his money was in his pocket; when he reached the ferry house and wanted to pay for his ticket it was gone. Kracha spread his hands. There it was. He had given the problem a lot of thinking without getting anywhere, his manner implied, and now he was prepared to hear their speculations.

Opinion settled eventually on the pickpocket theory, possibly because it was more dramatically satisfying. Kracha maintained an air of impartiality. If his pocket had been picked, and he wasn't saying it hadn't been, surely he would have felt the thief's fingers?

Oh, such people were clever, they were smarter than gipsies, they could pluck a hair out of a man's nose without his feeling it.

Kracha allowed himself to be convinced.

Only Dubik learned the true story behind Kracha's walk from New York. He learned it from Kracha himself one Saturday night as they walked the tracks to White Haven, a fine night with the smell of spring in the soft, damp wind. Kracha was carrying a lantern; Dubik was smoking a cigar.

"First I buy myself gloves and a shirt," Kracha said. "A piece of leather to fix my shoes. Tobacco. Matches. A dollar and a quarter should do it. Which will leave me a dollar for myself. But until I've bought what I need nobody is getting me inside a saloon."

"Good."

"After I've bought what I need, then I buy myself a drink. Whisky and beer. Hah!"

They walked in silence, Kracha almost able to taste his drink. After a while he said, "I suppose you'll be out all night again."

Dubik chuckled. "Would you have me disappoint her?"

"Maybe she has a friend and we could have a little party, the four of us."

"No friends. She is all alone in the world, poor girl, except for me. And her husband, of course."

"Ah. And where does this husband keep himself while you play games with his wife?"

"Nowhere near. I will tell you this much: he is a railroad man."

"Lehigh?"

"Yes."

Kracha grinned. "All in the family, so to speak."

"We often talk about him."

"And what is it you have that he doesn't?"

"My health." After a minute, with a barely perceptible lift of his shoulders, he added, "And my youth."

"How did you meet her?"

"If I told you you might guess who she is."

"You needn't be afraid diat Til try to steal her."

"It's not that."

"Is she American?"

"She was born here but she calls herself Dutch. Her husband is American."

"So you carry on your little affair in German?"

"German, a Httle English — we manage. I am teaching her Slovak."

"I can beheve it.