ve up the body of a
notorious drunkard, after we had paid twenty dollars for the corpse. If
there was any hopes that he would reform and try and lead a different
life, it would be different, and I said to the boys, 'gentlemen, we
must do our duty. Doc, you dismember that leg, and I will attend to the
stomach and the upper part of the body. He will be dead before we are
done with him. We must remember that society has some claims on us, and
not let our better natures be worked upon by the _post mortem_ promises
of a dead drunkard.' Then I took my icicle and began fumbling around the
abdomen portion of Pa's remains, and my chum took a rough piece of ice
and began to saw his leg off, while the other boy took hold of the leg
and said he would catch it when it dropped off. Well, Pa kicked like
a steer. He said he wanted to make one more appeal to us, and we acted
sort of impatient but we let up to hear what he had to say. He said if we
would turn him loose he would give us ten dollars more than we paid,
for his body, and that he would, never drink, another drop as long as
he lived. Then we whispered some more and then told him we thought
favorably of his last proposition, but he must swear, with his hand on
the leg of a corpse we were then dissecting that he would never drink
again, and then he must be blindfolded and be conducted several blocks
away from the dissecting room, before we could turn him loose. He said
that was all right, and so we blindfolded him, and made him take a
bloody oath, with his hand on a piece of ice that we told him was a
piece of another corpse, and then we took him out of the house and
walked him around the block four times, and left him on a corner, after
he had promised to send the money to an address that I gave him. We
told him to stand still five minutes after we left him, then remove the
blindfold, and go home. We watched him, from behind a board fence, and
he took off the handkerchief, looked at the name on a street lamp, and
found he was not far from home. He started off saying 'That's a pretty
narrow escape old man. No more whiskey for you.' I did not see him again
until this morning, and when I asked him where he was last night he
shuddered and said 'none of your darn business. But I never drink any
more, you remember that.' Ma was tickled and she told me I was worth my
weight in gold. Well, good day. That cheese is musty." And the boy went
and caught on a passing sleigh.

CHAPTER