The Last Gentleman

the quail had hidden from the dogs.
    â€œNow how in the hell is he going to hide from the dogs,” said the disgusted uncle.
    â€œHe hiding now,” said Merriam, still speaking to the engineer. “They has a way of hiding so that no dog in the world can see or smell them.”
    â€œOh, Goddamn, come on now. You hold that dog.”
    â€œI seen them!”
    â€œHow do they hide, Merriam?” the engineer asked him.
    â€˜They hits the ground and grab ahold of trash and sticks with both feets and throws theyselfs upside down with his feets sticking up and the dogs will go right over him ever’ time.”
    â€œHold that goddamn dog now, Mayrim!”
    After supper they watched television. An old round-eyed Zenith and two leatherette recliners, the kind that are advertised on the back page of the comic section, had been placed in a clearing that had been made long ago by pushing Aunt Felice’s good New Orleans furniture back into the dark corners of the room. Merriam watched from a roost somewhere atop a pile of chairs and tables. The sentient engineer perceived immediately that the recliner he was given was Merriam’s seat, but there was nothing he could do about it. Uncle Fannin pretended the recliner had been brought out for the engineer (how could it have been?) and Merriam pretended he always roosted high in the darkness. But when they, Uncle Fannin and Merriam, talked during the programs, sometimes the uncle, forgetting, would speak to the other recliner:
    â€œHe’s leaving now but he be back up there later, don’t worry about it.”
    â€œYes suh,” said Merriam from the upper darkness.
    â€œHe’s a pistol ball now, ain’t he?”
    â€œI mean.”
    â€œBut Chester, now. Chester can’t hold them by himself.”
    â€œThat Mist’ Chester is all right now,” cried Merriam.
    â€œShoot.”
    Whenever a commercial ended, Uncle Fannin lifted himself and took a quick pluck at his seat by way of getting ready.
    â€œThat laig don’t hold him!”
    â€œIt ain’t his leg that’s holding him now,” said the uncle, and, noticing that it was his nephew who sat beside him, gave him a wink and a poke in the ribs to show that he didn’t take Merriam seriously.
    Merriam didn’t mind. They argued about the Western heroes as if they were real people whose motives could be figured out. During a commercial, Merriam told the engineer of a program they had seen last week. It made a strong impression on him because the hero, their favorite, a black knight of a man, both gentleman and brawler, had gotten badly beat up. It was part one of a series and so he was still beat up.
    â€œI told Mist’ Fanny”—Merriam spoke muffle-jawed and all in a rush as if he hoped to get the words out before they got bound up in his cheeks—“that the onliest way in the world they can catch him is to get in behind him. Mist’ Fanny, he say they gon’ stomp him. I say they got to get in behind him first. What happened, some man called his attention, like I say ‘look here!’ and he looked and they did get in behind him and Lord, they stomped him, bad, I mean all up in the head. He lay out there in the street two days and folks scared to help him, everybody scared of this one man, Mister errerr—, errerr—” Merriam snapped his fingers. “It slips my mind, but he was a stout man and low, lower than you or Mist’ Fanny, he brush his hair up in the front like.” Merriam showed them and described the man so that the engineer would recognize him if he happened to see him. “They taken his money and his gun and his horse and left him out there in the sun. Then here come this other man to kill him. And I said to Mist’ Fanny, there is one thing this other man don’t know and that is he got this little biddy pistol on him and they didn’t take it off him because he got it hid in his bosom.”
    â€œMan, how you going to go up against a thirty-thirty with a derringer,” said the uncle disdainfully, yet shyly, watchful of the engineer lest he, the engineer, think too badly of Merriam. His uncle was pleading with him!
    â€œI’d like to see how that comes out,” said the engineer. “Is the second part coming on tonight?” he asked Merriam.
    â€œYessuh.”
    â€œThat fellow’s name was Bogardus,” said the uncle presently. “He