"I called on the Arcadians to remonstrate. During the course of the negotiations, they made an unprovoked and dastardly attack on the members of our society, on the ground that the president of the Arcadians had broken his wo'thless neck while discussing matters with us. Though outnumbered three to one, we escaped with the loss of only one man, whom you will now replace. So, suh, you perceive the quality of the organization you are invited to join."
"I see," said Finch. "I suppose if I must, I must."
"You fail to understand, yes indeedy, you do," said Colonel Lee, shaking a finger at Finch. "This is a purely voluntary association, respecting the most sacred rights of the individual. Why, suh, the Pegasus Litr'y Society concentrates in its exclusive membership the beauty and chivalry of the august city of Memphis, which epitomizes the beauty and chivalry of the state of Tennessee, which means of the whole sunay Southland. For variety, individuality and plain damn eccentricity, you wiH not find our peers."
They pulled up at Corinth for fuel and food, stopping at a plain-looking place decorated with a pair of gasoline pumps and a sign announcing only that it was kept by someone named Brian MacPherson. As the cream-colored car came to rest behind theirs, the red-headed Basil strutted from it. "Wow!" he yelled, jumping in the air and clicking his heels together. "Did you-all see me spill them Arcadians? Blam, right through the left front wheel! Man, I can melt a hole in a glass pane by glarin' at it; I can kill a horse by spittin' on it! Where my shadow falls the vegetation succumbs—"
"Yeah," said Impy, rubbing a thumb against one of the shiny bullet-marks on the rear of the lavender limousine. "We seen that hog, too."
"Oh," said Basil, then grinned. "Well, that there hog just heard that Basil Stewart • was comin' past, that's all. His mind was so opset that he up and committed suicide, that's all, so I git the credit anyhow you-all look at it. Say, What they got to eat hyeh? Ain't had a mouthful since Bummingham—"
"Food! Grub!" roared Hyperion Weems, drumming on the counter with large fists, so that salt-shakers and paper-napkin-holders danced again. Impy put two fingers in his mouth and emitted a shrill whistle, but as the rear door swung open to admit their host, they fell silent, and with reason.
The proprietor was at least as large as Hyperion Weems with a huge head of curly brass-yellow hair and a vast chest-protector beard. His costume consisted solely of a broad leather strap around each wrist, sandals, and a gee-string made of the skin of some spotted feline, or at least a skin that looked like that of a spotted feline.
"What's this heathen reerie?" demanded this unconventional restauranteur. "Mind your manners, or I'll be throwing ye oot on your hurdies!"
"We want food," said Basil Stewart. "Make mine a tenderloin steak, two inches thick and bloody on the inside, with a big heap of sweet potatoes and one fresh pea."
"What's the pea for?" asked Finch.
"Vitamins. Doc Proctor says I need 'em or my hair will fall out."
"Ye needna bother wi' special orders," said the big man behind the counter. "This is nature's hoose, and ye'll take what God gives ye by the hand of Brian McPhairson. Oh, Ian\ Six portions of Diet Number Four." He cocked his head toward the kitchen, and said with an air of apology. "Ye must excuse my grandson; he's a mere wean, and hasna learned that good courtesy asks quick service. lan\"
"Coming, grampop," said a young voice, and the owner hove through the door: an adolescent, clad like the bearded man but if possible, even larger and more muscular. On his arms and hands the mere wean balanced six salads, which he placed before the customers.
Hyperion Weems found his voice first, though it was somewhat shrilclass="underline" "You mean we is expected to eat this— cow fodder?"
"Gimme some whiskey, quick," said the field marshall Finch had not yet identified by name. "I feel faint."
MacPherson snorted as he poured and laid before them six glasses of nearly colorless fluid. "Neither steaks nor whuskey shall ye have from me," he said, "but halthy salads wi' celery-juice and gusty nuts to your dessert, I've lived on God's bounty so for forty years, and I'm no weakling, as I'd have ye mark."
He smote his chest till it resounded like a bass drum. "If ye'll rely on proper food and exercise instead o' godless dissipation and those ignorant poisoners who ca' themselves doctors, ye'd learn what real health is. Fa' tae, noo, wi* good appetite and the blessing of the A'mighty."
"Come on, boys," said Colonel Lee. "Suh, the honor of the Pegasus will not permit our tasses in food and drink to be dictated to us."
"No ye don't!" roared MacPherson. "Ye ha' come to me for nourishment, and nourished ye shall be." The inner doorway was suddenly filled with five more leopard-skinned giants. As Impy fumbled for a gun one of the new-comers pounced on him. Finch had a brief and apprehensive glimpse of the two locked in struggle for the zenith-pointed firearm, which went off with a roar. Then in a moment the whole party of visitors was disarmed and on their stools, with a blonde Hercules behind each. "Eat!" said MacPherson.
With sour looks and downcast faces, they pecked at the salads. "Ow!" yelled Basil Stewart suddenly.
"What's the matter, Wullie?" rumbled the proprietor.
The monster behind Stewart explained: "Pop, this dissipator was trying to stuff his watercress into that fancy coat of his, so you'd think he et it."
"Beat his harnies out against the wall if he tried it again," said MacPherson, amiably. Then his face softened. "N:i, ha," he said. "Ye ha' na your hairts in it. Hunger makes a good sauce, but the word of God a better. I'll even read ye a bit from the Good Book." He fumbled beneath the counter and produced a massive Bible.
"I will read," he said, and paused to let the book fall open, "—from the Eighty-Ninth Psalm:
" 'Thou rulest the raging of the sea; when the waves thereof arise, thou stillest them.
" 'Thou has broken Rahab in pieces, as one that is slain; thou hast scattered thine enemies with the strong arm'"
He broke off and stared at them with the beard quivering. "Ye will understand by than," he said, "that King David has reference not to yon godly harlot who sheltered Joshua and the spies of Israel, as is told in Joshua, the second chapter; but to harlottery in the general term—"
"I beg pardon," said Finch. "It doesn't mean anything of the kind, any more than the scarlet woman in the Revelation has reference to a Red Indian. Eighty-nine is a very late Psalm, at least the third century. 'Rahab' must be taken as referring to the Egyptians, who were invading Judea at that time."
"And whaur would ye be having so daft a theory?-" asked MacPherson, heavily. "Ye meat-eaters will be spouting rank modernism."
"That only proves that if you keep a theory, like a garment, long enough, it will be new again," retorted Finch. "You'll find it originally stated in Kirkaldie's 'Bible for the Glasgow Schools', which was approved by John Knox. While you have your Bible there, you might take a look at the early part of the Gospel of Matthew, about the fourth or fifth verse. You'll find Rahab used to mean Egypt there, I fancy, in the genealogy of Jesus. The trouble with you Old Testament specialists is that you think everything in the New Testament is modernism."
"I'll no go again' the word o' Kirkaldie," said the blond giant, visibly shaken, as he fluttered the pages to look up the reference to Matthew. "Aye, there 'tis. My hand to ye, sir-rr, and my thanks for saving me a great error in doctrine. For that and nae more, nae more at all, ye shall have your meals at half their price, which is a dollar twenty-five each." He beamed.