The Outcasts
“Approximately eaves. Mother Martha’s was mainly an open shed, a roof some seventy-five feet long on posts. The roof, or what Morrison could see of it, was tin here and thatch there, and they were parked under a tangled overhang of thatch. There were wooden tables and stools and benches scattered outside. Men were drinking with girls in bright blouses, and they shouted at Tall Boy and Philips, who shouted too and waved.
Inside, in the dim light, the chatter was low; on the tables were oil lamps,... unlit. Cases of bottled beer stood in stacks. Masks hung from the dark beams; also animal skulls with antlers or tusks. The bartender was ebony-bald with jolly wide eyes and a grinning wide mouth. Philips said, “Emanuel. Morrison,” and they shook hands. “Three beers,” Philips said. He slapped his wallet to the bar. “Give me your money.”
Morrison obeyed. Philips counted the bills and joined them to his own. When the bottles were uncapped, he thrust the wallet at Emanuel. “Give it to Martha.MoreLess
Inside, in the dim light, the chatter was low; on the tables were oil lamps,... unlit. Cases of bottled beer stood in stacks. Masks hung from the dark beams; also animal skulls with antlers or tusks. The bartender was ebony-bald with jolly wide eyes and a grinning wide mouth. Philips said, “Emanuel. Morrison,” and they shook hands. “Three beers,” Philips said. He slapped his wallet to the bar. “Give me your money.”
Morrison obeyed. Philips counted the bills and joined them to his own. When the bottles were uncapped, he thrust the wallet at Emanuel. “Give it to Martha.MoreLess
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