He used his entrenching tool like an ax, slashing, feeling both love and hate, and then later, when it was full dark,

hrugging, Kiowa pulled off his boots. He wanted to say more, just to lighten up his sleep, but instead he opened his New Testament and arranged it beneath his head as a pillow.

Briefly, in the rain, Lieutenant Cross saw Martha’s gray eyes gazing back at him. He understood.It was very sad, he thought. The things men carried inside. The things men did or felt they

Besides, the letters were in his head. And even now, without photographs,

hey carried all the emotional baggage of men who might die. Grief, terror, love, longing—these were intangibles, but the intangibles had their own mass and specific gravity, they had tangible weight. They carried shameful memories. They carried the common secret of cowardice barely re-strained, the instinct to run or freeze or hide, and in many respects this was the heaviest burden of

She lay there. "Delia. Delia!" She could hear Sykes calling in a most despairing tone as one who expected no answer. The sun crept on up, and he called. Delia could not move--her legs were gone flabby. She never moved, he called, and the sun kept rising.

"Oh, fuh de light! Ah thought he'd be too sick"--Sykes was muttering to himself when the whirr began again, closer, right underfoot this time. Long before this, Sykes' ability to think had been flattened down to primitive instinct and he leaped--onto the bed.

. Shux, dat aint nothin'. Ah could ketch one eve'y day if Ah so wanted tuh."

Ah aint gut tuh do nuthin' uh de kin'--fact is Ah aint got tuh do nothin' but die. Taint no use uh you puttin' on airs makin' out lak you skeered uh dat snake--he's gointer stay right heah tell he die. He wouldn't bite me cause Ah knows how tuh handle 'im. Nohow he wouldn't risk breakin' out his fangs 'gin yo' skinny laigs.

Delia and Sykes fought all the time now with no peaceful interludes. They slept and ate in silence. Two or three times Delia had attempted a timid friendliness, but she was repulsed each time. It was plain that the breaches must remain agape.

At that moment, Sykes and Bertha arrived. A determined silence fell on the porch and the melon was put away again.

Where did Syke Jones git da 'oman from nohow?" Lindsay asked.

Delia's work-worn knees

As she was stooping to pass under his outstretched arm, he suddenly pushed her backward, laughingly.

Sho' you kin have dat lil' ole house soon's Ah kin git dat 'oman outa dere. Everything b'longstuh me an' you sho' kin have it. Ah sho' 'bominates uh skinny 'oman. Lawdy, you sho' is got oneportly shape on you! You kin git anything you wants. Dis is mah town an' you sho' k

With all this they left the store, with Sykes reminding Bertha that this was his town and she could have it if she wanted it.

pleased him for Delia to see.

There's plenty men dat takes a wife lak dey do a joint uh sugar-cane. It's round, juicy an' sweet when dey gits it. But dey squeeze an' grind, squeeze an' grind an' wring tell dey wring every drop uh pleasure dat's in 'em out. When dey's satisfied dat dey is wrung dry, dey treats 'em jes lak dey do a cane-chew. Dey throws em away. Dey knows whut dey is doin' while dey is at it, an' hates theirselves fuh it but they keeps on hangin' after huh tell she's empty.

Too much knockin' will ruin any 'oman. He done beat huh 'nough tuh kill three women, let 'lonechange they looks," said Elijah Moseley. "How Syke kin stommuck dat big black greasy Mogulhe's layin' roun wid, gits me. Ah swear dat eight-rock couldn't kiss a sardine can Ah donethrowed out de back do' 'way las' yeah."

She better if she wanter eat,"

that ole snaggle-toothed black woman you runnin' with aint comin' heah to pile up on mah sweat and blood. You aint paid for nothin' on this place, and Ah'm

Don't gimme no lip neither, else Ah'll throw 'em outand put mah fist up side yo' head to boot."

Delia's habitual meekness seemed to slip from her shoulders like a blown scarf. She was on her feet; her poor little body, her bare knuckly hands bravely defying the strapping hulk before her.

"What's it got to do with you, Sykes? Mah tub of suds is filled yo' belly with vittles more times than yo' hands is filled it. Mah sweat is done paid for this house and Ah reckon Ah kin keep on sweatin' in it."

He snorted scornfully. "Yeah, you just come from de church house on a Sunday night, but heah you is gone to work on them clothes. You ain't nothing but a hypocrite. One of them amen-corner Christians--sing, whoop, and shout, then come home and wash white folks clothes on the Sabbath."