Pickering College - Voyageur Yearbook (Newmarket, Ontario Canada)

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Forster squatted under scrub pine and opened his letter. It had better be good after paying five bucks for it. As he thought about it now it was a pretty foolish move, but he had been carried away by the moment. A sudden pang of loneliness had gripped him and he had felt that he simply must have a letter or something, so that he could feel a. sense of communion and friendship with someone. It felt horrible to Forster to think that nobody particularly cared about him, not even a cheap slut. He cursed, the letter was not even from a woman, he cursed steadily until a few lines at the bottom caught his eye 'Maria wishes you to have this favour so I will leave it in the hollow tree just off the swamp road - -- - following were exact instructi-ons on how to find the tree. The letter was signed simply Juan ' '. Forester knew who Juan was, he was the son of the Mexican woman with whom Al had stayed before moving into the shack. Maria was his sister, a beautiful girl whom Forster had gazed hungrily at whenever she was near, flushing miserably, when she caught him at it. Forster wondered what the favour was, a trinket perhaps? a handkerchief? a lock of hair? He thought it would be nice to get the object and flaunt it in front of Al. It would infuriatehim he knew. But would it be fair?-well, why not, dammit? The letter was his, he bought it, he could do anything he wanted with it, and by God he would do just that! He rose and walked quickly to the cabin, ignoring the heat, humming to himself. V Al glanced up as he entered but said nothing. Forster still humming to himself because he knew it would anger Al went about preparing the evening meal. At last Al spoke, NVell what was in it ? as Why ? asked Forster. Well because I have a right to know, the letter was written to me. So what Listen you fat slob, . . llissen yourself pal, I bought that letter and it 's none of your damn business what in it, see? s t Damn you, I'll . . lie made a move toward Forster who reached behind him and picked up a stick of firewood. His pudgy white hands were shaking and his large eyes were unusually bright. lt was the first time that he had physically opposed anyone. Al glared at him for a moment, cursed, then laughed and stalked out ofthe shack. Twcnly-l wo

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There's the mail, he said. Forster remained where he was. There was no sense in rushing out in this heat and besides, the chances of him getting a letter were damned few any- way. He slipped the report into an envelope and, addressing it, handed it to the black boy who had entered carrying a stack of letters and a small parcel. Plenty hot, hey? he said to the boy. Yassin It sho' is, old rad boiled fo' times on de way up heahf' The b0y's teeth shone in his sweaty face as Al pounced on him, seizing the letters. Mistah Al, yo' sho' do get a lot ob letters. How 'bout lettin' me in on some ob does gals? He laughed a high cackling falsetto. Al paid no attention so the boy turned and went out. James watched refiectively. The women sure go for him, he thought. I wonder what it is, he 's certainly not too smart or, for that matter, good looking. Jim wished he was like Al and had a dozen girls on the string. Jim had no girls and the only letters he got were from his father once a month. Al glanced up to see Jim eyeing the letters. Sell you one he said in a tone half banter and half contemptuous. He pitied this poor white worm. 'Sure, how much? replied Jim in his usual serious voice. Oh, bout five bucks Al said in the same tone as before. It's a deal replied -lim holding out his hand. Ah, don 't he stupid, I was only joking. NVell, I wasn't said Jim, are you backing out? Jim's tone annoyed Al. Ah for Hawd 's sake don 't ya know a joke when ya hear it? he shouted. Now Jim was annoyed. He had been only fooling at first too. but now he was serious. He pulled some crumbled hills from the pocket of his filthy shorts and held them out, his hand shaking. I'm calling your bluff, take it or leave it he said. Al's eyes grew hard and he stared at the other's flushed face. Okay, fat boy he said, take your pick. He held the letters out fanwise and Jim picked one. Al took the money and crammed it into his shirt pocket as Jim turned and walked out ot the shack. He walked across the hot clearing to the meagre shade of the pine tree. He noted the big silent swamp about a mile away steaming in the sun. God it was hot, he thought. Twenty-one

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Forster ate slowly, the rebellion draining out of him leaving self-condemna- tion in its place. Al really wasn't such a bad guy, he thought, I shouldn't have gone oft' like that after he was good enough to sell me the letter in the first place. He resolved to tell Al all about it to-morrow and went to bed a little sorry, but, nonetheless, feeling a thrill of pride in the way he had stood up against Al. Next morning, however, Al was gone before he woke and so Jim didn't have a chance to explain. He noticed that Al hadn't washed his dinner or breakfast dishes and it angered him. He supposed Al had done it to get even ' '. He considered that pretty small and petty. The more he thought, the more it angered him. The girl 's favour, mentioned in the letter, offered an excellent chance for reprisal. The sun was slamming its white hot rays against the burning sand, the glare was intolerable, the heat intense. Even the fiies were silent. birds had long since retired to the depths of the grove, not even a squirrel chattered. Forster pushed on his hat and started down the burning road. It was pure torture to continue but his intense dislike of the man he wished to hurt kept. him plodding through the shifting sand. After a mile or so the ground became a little more solid and then turned soft and swampy with tufted humm-ocks of rough grass which cut cruelly at his bare ankles. He finally stumbled onto the swamp road which led him into the steaming, fetid growth. He sat on a stump, wiping sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand. God it was hot! His numbed brain could hardly register. He was heartily sorry that he had left now. He hoped it wasn 't much further. He continued d-own the rough trail for nearly a mile until he saw the marker which meant that he had to cut right into the swamp from there on. He was nearly exhausted from weariness and the effects of the heat. The mosquitos attacked his soft body mercilessly. He slapped at them futilely with short desperate motions. Hod, he was almost there! VVithout st-opping he turned off the trail. Immediately his feet sank into the soft ground, frightening him. He jumped back onto the trail in terror VVas it quicksand? He didn 't. know. He was abysmally ignorant of swamp 1-ore. Forster realized that it must be safe if someone had been there before. He slogged off through the swamp with the muck pulling at his feet, the foot- prints slowly filling with water. Dimly through the trees and vines he saw what appeared to be an island of higher ground with a large tree on it. That was it! He was frantic. He had fallen over hidden roots twice and his hands and knees were black, vines slapped at his face and resisted every movement. The insects hovered around him in clouds, biting him cruelly. He staggered on, sobbing. The importance ot' his goal and the prize awaiting him had assumed tremendous proportions in his mind. He stumbled and fell heavily on a turfy bank. He was there! The sun beat down on him as he lay panting in the tiny clearing. Silence enveloped him like a shroud. Twenty-three