Голод

           "Whatwasityousaidhewascalled?—Kierulf?"

           "Ofcourse,"Ireplied."Isthereanythingwonderfulinthat?Thenamedoesn’tdisgraceanyone."

           "Hasn’theredhair?"

           Well,itwasquitepossiblethathehadredhair,andnowthatthedrivermentionedthematter,Iwassuddenlyconvincedthathewasright.Ifeltgratefultothepoordriver,andhastenedtoinformhimthathehadhitthemanofftoaT—hereallywasjustashedescribedhim,—andIremarked,inaddition,thatitwouldbeaphenomenontoseesuchamanwithoutredhair.

           "ItmustbehimIdroveacoupleoftimes,"saidthedriver;"hehadaknobbedstick."

           Thisbroughtthemanvividlybeforeme,andIsaid,"Ha,ha!Isupposenoonehaseveryetseenthemanwithoutaknobbedstickinhishand,ofthatyoucanbecertain,quitecertain."

           Yes,itwasclearthatitwasthesamemanhehaddriven.Herecognizedhim—andhedrovesothatthehorse’sshoesstrucksparksastheytouchedthestones.

           AllthroughthisphaseofexcitementIhadnotforonesecondlostmypresenceofmind.Wepassapoliceman,andInoticehisnumberis69.Thisnumberstruckmewithsuchvividclearnessthatitpenetratedlikeasplintintomybrain—69—accurately69.Iwouldn’tforgetit.

           Ileantbackinthevehicle,apreytothewildestfancies;crouchedunderthehoodsothatnoonecouldseeme.