One day the tank grew strangely still. Murphy came to lean too casually against his door. He and Dove hadn’t been on speaking terms for a week.
‘What’s the extent of your education,’ he suddenly demanded of Dove.
‘It don’t extend nowheres, account I got none,’ Dove acknowledged.
‘What’s your excuse for being in here?’ Murphy persisted.
‘I was drinkin’ heavy,’ Dove told him.
‘Most you Injuns do.’
Apparently Murphy had given some thought to this.
‘I aint even part Injun, mister,’ Dove went along.
‘If you aint, what you squattin’ like one for?’
Dove, on his haunches with a blanket about his head, let smoke trail through his nostrils before he answered, knowing any answer had to be wrong.
‘My folks always set this way, mister. I notice sometimes you do yourself.’ And flicked his cigarette through the bars.
That was it.
‘Get up ’n put that snipe out,’ Murphy commanded. ‘You trying to burn the place down with all us white folks inside?’
‘I wouldn’t go throwin’ fire around, mister. That snipe is put out.’
‘Put it out again.’
‘Mister,’ Dove called to the African-violet fiend lounging in the run-around pretending he had been promoted to trusty, ‘Would you mind puttin’ out that put-out snipe for me?’
‘I didn’t give him the order,’ Murphy interrupted, ‘I give it to you.’
‘Then put it out yourself, mister.’
‘Deputy!’ Murphy called parties unseen, ‘bring in the prisoner of the court!’
Somebody spun Dove about, shoved him through the open door and down the run-around into a cell full of prisoners. He had never seen all the tenants of Tank Ten assembled, and now he wished he hadn’t till he felt stronger.
They looked like bulldogs, they looked like coyotes, they looked like real hard cases. The human dishrag with hair and brows so colorless he seemed more like something hung out to dry than anything actually living. His faithful timberwolf beside him, holding a spoon in event the rag should want it washed, shined or dipped in gravy. Wayback without a tooth in his head, standing beside Out-Front who had enough teeth for two. Wren, holding Dundee’s lunch bucket to keep Feathers from laying an egg in it, and Chicken Spanker himself, looking as though he’d like to peck somebody. And Gonzales, without his shovel. But who was ready to go all the same.
Even Murphy was dismayed. ‘Just look at the material they’re sending me. Who can do anything with material like that? Sec Fiend!’
Raincoat was late, he hadn’t known court was convening. He hurried in apologizing for the way he was dressed. Only Cross-Country Kline was missing and Dove was grateful for that.
‘Sec Fiend!’ Murphy demanded. ‘Who’s the judge of this here court?’
Several gave dull unseeing glances about: at walls, at bars, at windows, at doors, at faces in the winding air, for they didn’t know which sec fiend was meant.
‘Raincoat Sec Fiend!’ Judge Murphy made it plain as possible, ‘the court asked you a question!’
‘What was the question, Hon’r?’
His Honor had forgotten the question himself.
‘It don’t matter,’ he improvised cleverly, ‘Just tell the court who was it said he could whup you if he wanted and you admitted he could if he wanted.’
‘You could whup me any old time your Honor you wanted to whup me, your Honor.’ Timberwolf always wanted to be first.
‘You whup me too!’ They all got the idea at once, with envy, some even pretending that Murphy actually had so favored them.
‘You whup me somethin’ terrible,’ the Dishrag lied.
‘You whup me even worse,’ the Wolf just wouldn’t be outdone.
‘Whup even worse,’ the Bug began his echoing.
‘Get that one out of here,’ Judge Murphy decided.
‘One out of here,’ Bug had just time to agree before he was rushed back to his cell and told to stay there, they’d tell him the verdict later.
‘Tell you the verdict later,’ he agreed, being the most agreeable of bugs.
‘What I whup you with, mighty fellows?’ Murphy asked.
‘Big fistes!’ Sec Fiend shouted as though only now beginning to feel pain.
‘Big fistes is right,’ Murphy agreed and poked his fist right under Dove’s nose – ‘What it look like?’ he demanded to know, ‘Is it look like a man’s fist or don’t it?’
‘Wouldn’t be surprised if that aint but what it is,’ Dove shrugged indifferently.
Murphy stepped back, pulled a crumpled sheet of notepaper from his pocket and read while all listened reverently:
‘These are the rules of the Kangaroo Court. Any man found guilty of breaking into this jail without consent of the inmates will be fined two dollars or else spend forty days on the floor at rate of five cents per deem. Or else he could carry his Honor three times around the run-around piggyback if the jury recommended mercy.
‘Every man entering this tank must keep cleaned and properly dressed. Each day of the week is wash day except Sunday. Every man must wash his face and hands before handling food even his own. Any man found guilty of spitting in ash tub or through window will voluntarily duck his head in slop bucket, else have it ducked. Each and every man using toilet must flush with bucket immediately afters. Man found guilty by jury of his peers gets head ducked in bucket else he wants to or not.
‘Throw all paper in the coal tub. Don’t draw dirty pictures on wall, somebody’s sister might come visiting. When using dishrag keep it clean. Any man caught stealing off another criminal will have William Makepeace Murphy to reckon with.
‘Every man upon entering this tank with ven’ral disease, lice, buboes, crabs or yellow glanders will report same immediately. Any man found violating any of these rules will be punished according to the justice of the court and the jury of his peers and William Makepeace Murphy. Also Tank Treasurer.’
William Makepeace Murphy batted his eye at Dove, proud as a frog eating fire. ‘Every time you open your mouth from here on out it will be used against you. No mercy is this court’s motto.’
‘Then I won’t talk.’
‘Prisoner in contemp’!’ Dishrag chortled – ‘Boy, did you walk into that.’
‘He’s right,’ the judge backed up the peer. ‘You’re now in contemp’ somethin’ awful.’
‘Why?’ Dove asked.
‘Because I contemp’ you, that’s why, son.’ Murphy took a sympathetic tone, ‘I want to help you but you’re not helping me. If I were you I’d make a clean breast of all the dirty crimes you done and throw yourself on the mercy of the court. I think you’d feel better spiritually.’
‘But you said the court’s motto is no mercy.’
‘Using a legal loophold like that is even more contempt’ble. Now you’re deeper contempted than before.’
‘Ataboy, Judge!’ the Dishrag cheered, ‘walked right smack-dab into it again! Now he got to confess what he done!’
‘Why, I never did outrightly crime,’ Dove had to defend himself.
‘Of course not, because you’re a holy angel,’ Murphy congratulated him, ‘only where are your wings?’
This flash of wit literally rocked the cell. ‘Where are your wings, Holy Angel?’ ‘That’ll learn him to crack wise.’