Harrogate? Rufus turned and jerked his head back and frowned at Suttree across his shoulder. The city mouse? Naw. He aint been round. What you wants with him?
I think he’s all fucked up somewhere.
Wherever he at he’s fucked up. Aint no news in that.
Did you hear that earthquake last night?
I did. Rattled the glass in my windersashes. Woke my old lady up. You hear it?
Suttree nodded.
Get ye a little old drink there, Sut.
I dont believe I can stand it.
Why that there’s a nice little whiskey.
The whiskey stood in the road.
I got a old dog stobbed up in my slopbarrel, said Rufus.
Suttree nodded. His lips moved as if he were repeating this to himself.
I caint get near him to fetch him out. He keeps wantin to bite me.
How did he get in there?
Fell in I reckon. Eatin my slops. I aint tippin out my slops for no fool ass dog.
No.
I remember from when I was a boy down in Loudon County and I had this uncle used to make whiskey all the time. We went up to his still one evenin and he had five barrel of mash settin around on the ground workin and we got up there and in ever barrel one they was a old hound. They was stobbed up in them mashbarrels to they neck and they was drunk and just a singing to beat the band. You never seen a more pleasant sight. We set on the ground and laughed and the more we laughed the louder they’d sing and the more they sung the louder we’d laugh.
How did you get them out?
We cut us a green hickory and run it through they collars and got one either end and snaked em out. They was some might too drunk to walk hardly.
Well why dont we get this one out of your mashbarrel like that?
He aint got no collar on.
I see. Well why dont we get a rope on him and haul him out?
We might could try it. I hate to go up there at all.
Why is that?
Old lady’s put out with me.
Well you got to go sometime.
I know it. But sometimes I just purely hate it.
Come on. You cant sit down here all night.
Suttree stood up and Rufus rose and dusted the sag of his trouser-seat with two handswipes and stooped, tilted, recovered, seized the bottle and reared upright. Beat no drink atall, dont ye? he said to the bottle.
They labored up the switchback path through the kudzu and came out in a dark little lane. It was a clear night and they walked slowly and the black man would pause again before they reached the house to take another drink and restore the bottle to the pocket of his ample trousers. Suttree could smell above the honeysuckle a sour reek from the hoglot like the smell of vomit. Through the vines stood a windowlight. Rufus held up one finger and they paused and consulted.
Let me get my lannern.
Okay.
Suttree crouched in the lane. He heard a door open and close and then in a moment he heard a high shrieking voice that seemed to speak in a tongue unknown to him. The door opened and Rufus came from the porch holding up the lantern and adjusting the wick.
They walked out past the shed and Rufus lifted a nail out of the hasp-staple on the smokehouse door and entered and reappeared with a hank of coarse rope. They went on along a fence patched up from scraps of board and tin. Something scuttled off among the weeds. A hog grunted in the dark. Rufus held the lantern up and in the light Suttree saw the dog’s eyes.
Yonder he is.
Suttree took the lantern and approached the dog. A sodden hound with wet bread hanging from his head, stogged to the neck in a slopdrum. He had his forepaws on the rim of the drum and as Suttree approached he bared his teeth in the lamplight.
Cant he get out? said Suttree.
He dont appear able. I see him rear up a time or two but he caint get pulled loose enough from that slop to jump.
Well hand me that rope.
Watch you dont get too close. He’ll growl and make at ye.
Hold the lantern.
You watch him now.
Suttree fetched an empty drum and stood it bottom up alongside the dog and stood on it. The dog turned to face him. He made a noose in the rope and dropped it over the dog’s head and the dog’s teeth closed on the air with a dull wet chop. When he felt the rope tighten about his neck he began to moan.
Suttree doubled the rope in his fist and began to haul on the dog. The dog’s eyes rolled wildly and it began to scrabble at the drum.
Great God this son of a bitch is heavy.
It rose strangled and dripping from the barrel and slid over the side and collapsed in a foul wet mass on the ground.
They stood watching it, Suttree on the drum holding the lantern. It looked like some strange medieval beast lying there gasping and stinking. Suttree steered the rope off the hound’s neck and after a while it rose and shook itself and staggered off heavily through the honeysuckles.
Suttree coiled the rope save for the fouled noose of it and dragging this behind they went back up the path and sat on the porch. Rufus snuffed the lantern and leaned back against the post and closed his eyes. Then he opened them and patted his pocket where the bottle lay and then he closed them again. You caint see his lights now, growed up like it is, he said.