THE TORRENTS OF SPRING 61
was dark inside the stable, but one of the Indians lit a match to show Yogi the ladder. The little Indian climbed up first, the metal hinges of his artificial limbs squeaking as he climbed. Yogi followed him, and the other Indian climbed last, lighting Yogi's way with matches. The little Indian knocked on the roof where the ladder stopped against the wall. There was an answering knock. The little Indian knocked in answer, three sharp knocks on the roof above his head. A trap-door in the roof was raised, and they climbed up through the lighted room.
In one corner of the room there was a bar with a brass rail and tall spittoons. Behind the bar was a mirror. Easy-chairs were all around the room. There was a pool-table. Magazines on sticks hung in a line on the wall. There was a framed autographed portrait of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on the wall draped in the American flag. Several Indians were sitting in the easy-chairs reading. A little group stood at the bar.
"Nice little club, eh?" An Indian came up and shook hands with Yogi. "I see you almost every day at the pump-factory."
He was a man who worked at one of the machines near Yogi in the factory. Another Indian came up and shook hands with Yogi. He also worked in the pump-factory.
"Rotten luck about the chinook," he said.
"Yes," Yogi said. "Just a false alarm."
"Come and have a drink," the first Indian said.
"I'm with a party," Yogi answered. Who were these Indians, anyway?
"Bring them along too," the first Indian said. "Always room for one more."
