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第52部分（第2页）

The　moon　might　have　gone　behind　a　cloud。　The　chain　had　decapitated　him。　Reading

the　story　Jack　had　been　almost　glad；　and　now；　looking　down　at　this　machine；　the

feeling　recurred。

（If　it　wasnt　for　Danny；　I　would　take　great　pleasure　in　grabbing　one　of　those

mallets；　opening　the　cowling；　and　just　pounding　until）

He　let　his　pent…up　breath　escape　him　in　a　long　slow　sigh。　Wendy　was　right。

e　hell；　high　water；　or　the　welfare　line；　Wendy　was　right。　Pounding　this

machine　to　death　would　be　the　height　of　folly；　no　matter　how　pleasant　an　aspect

that　folly　made。　It　would　almost　be　tantamount　to　pounding　his　own　son　to　death。

〃Fucking　Luddite；〃　he　said　aloud。

He　went　to　the　back　of　the　machine　and　unscrewed　the　gascap。　He　found　a

dipstick　on　one　of　the　shelves　that　ran　at　chest…height　around　the　walls　and

slipped　it　in。　The　last　eighth　of　an　inch　came　out　wet。　Not　very　much；　but

enough　to　see　if　the　damn　thing　would　run。　Later　he　could　siphon　more　from　the

Volks　and　the　hotel　truck。

He　screwed　the　cap　back　on　and　opened　the　cowling。　No　sparkplugs；　no　battery。

He　went　to　the　shelf　again　and　began　to　poke　along　it；　pushing　aside

screwdrivers　and　adjustable　wrenches；　a　one…lung　carburetor　that　had　been　taken

out　of　an　old　lawnmower；　plastic　boxes　of　screws　and　nails　and　bolts　of　varying

sizes。　The　shelf　was　thick　and　dark　with　old　grease；　and　the　years　accumulation

of　dust　had　stuck　to　it　like　fur。　He　didnt　like　touching　it。

He　found　a　small；　oil…stained　box　with　the　abbreviation　Skid。　laconically

marked　on　it　in　pencil。　He　shook　it　and　something　rattled　inside。　Plugs。　He　held

one　of　them　up　to　the　light；　trying　to　estimate　the　gap　without　hunting　around

for　the　gapping　tool。　Fuck　it；　he　thought　resentfully；　and　dropped　the　plug　back

into　the　box。　If　the　gaps　wrong；　thats　just　too　damn　bad。　Tough　fucking　titty。

There　was　a　stool　behind　the　door。　He　dragged　it　over；　sat　down；　and　installed

the　four　sparkplugs；　then　fitted　the　small　rubber　caps　over　each。　That　done；　he

let　his　fingers　play　briefly　over　the　magneto。　They　laughed　when　I　sat　down　at

the　piano。

Back　to　the　shelves。　This　time　he　couldnt　find　what　he　wanted；　a　small

battery。　A　three…　or　four…cell。　There　were　socket　wrenches；　a　case　filled　with

drills　and　drillbits；　bags　of　lawn　fertilizer　and　Vigoro　for　the　flower　beds；

but　no　snowmobile　battery。　It　didnt　bother　him　in　the　slightest。　In　fact；　it

made　him　feel　glad。　He　was　relieved。　I　did　my　best；　Captain；　but　I　could　not　get

through。　Thats　fine；　son。　Im　going　to　put　you　in　for　the　Silver　Star　and　the

Purple　Snowmobile。　Youre　a　credit　to　your　regiment。　Thank　you；　sir。　I　did　try。

He　began　to　whistle　〃Red　River　Valley〃　uptempo　as　he　poked　along　the　last　two

or　three　feet　of　shelf。　The　notes　came　out　in　little　puffs　of　white　smoke。　He

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