Henri the painter kept’ his chair at Red Williams’ service station, He worked out every possible philosophic approach to the situation and came to the conclusion that he would have to build a platform at home and try it himself. Everyone in the town was more or less affected by the skater. Trade fell off out of sight of him and got better the nearer you came to Holman’s. Mack and the boys went up and looked for a moment and then went back to the Palace, They couldn’t see that it made much sense.

Holman’s set up a double bed in their window. When the skater broke the world’s record he was going to come down and sleep right in the window without taking off his skates. The trade name of the mattress was on a little card at the foot of the bed.

Now in the whole town there was interest and discussion about this sporting event, but the most interesting question of all and the one that bothered the whole town was never spoken of. No one mentioned it and yet it was there haunting everyone. Mrs. Trolat wondered about it as she came out of the Scotch bakery with a bag of sweet buns. Mr. Hall in men’s furnishings wondered about it. The three Willoughby girls giggled whenever they thought of it. But no one had the courage to bring it into the open.

Richard Frost, a high strung and brilliant young man, worried about it more than anyone else. It haunted him. Wednesday night he worried and Thursday night he fidgeted. Friday night he got drunk and had a fight with his wife. She cried for a while and then pretended to be asleep. She heard him slip from bed and go into the kitchen. He was getting another drink. And then she heard him dress quietly and go out. She cried some more then. It was very late. Mrs. Frost was sure he was going down to Dora’s Bear Flag.

Richard walked sturdily down the hill through the pines until he came to Lighthouse Avenue. He turned left and went up toward Holman’s. He had the bottle in his pocket and just before he came to the store he took one more slug of it. The street lights were turned down low. The town was deserted. Not a soul moved. Richard stood in the middle of the street and looked up.

Dimly on top of the high mast he could see the lonely figure of the skater. He took another drink. He cupped his hand and called huskily, “Hey!” There was no answer. “Hey!” he called louder and looked around to see if the cops had come out of their place beside the bank.

Down from the sky came a surly reply: “What do you want?”

Richard cupped his hands again. “How — how do you — go to the toilet?”

“I’ve got a can up here,” said the voice.

Richard turned and walked back the way he had come. He walked along Lighthouse and up through the pines and he came to his house and let himself in. As he undressed he knew his wife was awake. She bubbled a little when she was asleep. He got into bed and she made room for him.

“He’s got a can up there,” Richard said.

Chapter XX

In mid-morning the Model T truck rolled triumphantly home to Cannery Row and hopped the gutter and creaked up through the weeds to its place behind Lee Chong’s. The boys blocked up the front wheels, drained what gasoline was left into a five-gallon can, took their frogs and went wearily home to the Palace Flophouse. Then Mack made a ceremonious visit to Lee Chong while the boys got a fire going in the big stove. Mack thanked Lee with dignity for lending the truck. He spoke of the great success of the trip, of the hundreds of frogs taken. Lee smiled shyly and waited for the inevitable.

“We’re in the chips,” Mack said enthusiastically. “Doc pays us a nickel a frog and we got about a thousand.”

Lee nodded. The price was standard. Everybody knew that.

“Doc’s away,” said Mack. “Jesus, is he gonna be happy when he sees all them frogs.”

Lee nodded again. He knew Doc was away and he also knew where the conversation was going.

“Say, by the way,” said Mack as though he had just thought of it. “We’re a little bit short right now—” He managed to make it sound like a very unusual situation.

“No whiskey,” said Lee Chong and he smiled.

Mack was outraged. “What would we want whiskey for? Why we got a gallon of the finest whiskey you ever laid a lip over — a whole full God damned running over gallon. By the way,” he continued, “I and the boys would like to have you just step up for a snort with us. They told me to ask you.”

In spite of himself Lee smiled with pleasure. They wouldn’t offer it if they didn’t have it.

“No,” said Mack, “I’ll lay it on the line. I and the boys are pretty short and we’re pretty hungry. You know the price of frogs is twenty for a buck, Now Doc is away and we’re hungry. So what we thought is this. We don’t want to see you lose nothing so we’ll make over to you twenty-five frogs for a buck. You got a five-frog profit there and nobody loses his shirt.”

“No,” said Lee. “No money.”

“Well, hell, Lee, all we need is a little groceries. I’ll tell you what — we want to give Doc a little party when he gets back. We got plenty of liquor but we’d like to get maybe some steaks, and stuff like that. He’s such a nice guy. Hell, when your wife had that bad tooth, who give her the laudanum?”

Mack had him. Lee was indebted to Doc — deeply indebted. What Lee was having trouble comprehending was how his indebtedness to Doc made it necessary that he give credit to Mack.

“We don’t want you to have like a mortgage on frogs,” Mack went on. “We will actually deliver right into your hands twenty-five frogs for every buck of groceries you let us have and you can come to the party too.”