Read Against the Day for Free Online

major source of income . . . . Tarahumara Indians from northern Mexico crouched,
apparently in total nakedness, inside lathandplaster replicas of the caves of
their native Sierra Madre, pretending to eat visionproducing cacti that sent
them into dramatic convulsions scarcely distinguishable from those of the
common “geek” long familiar to American carnivalgoers . . . . Tungus reindeer herders stood gesturing up at a gigantic
sign reading special reindeer show ,
and calling out in their native tongue to the tip gathered in front, while a
pair of young women in quite revealing costumes—who, being blonde and so
forth, did not, actually, appear to share with the Tungus many racial
characteristics—gyrated next to a very patient male reindeer, caressing
him with scandalous intimacy, and accosting passersby with suggestive phrases
in English, such as “Come in and learn dozens ways to have fun in Siberia!” and
“See what really goes on during long winter nights!”
    “This doesn’t seem,” Lindsay adrift
between fascination and disbelief, “quite .
. . authentic, somehow.”
    “Come over here, boys, first time for
free, find the red get a pat on the head, find the black, get nothin back!”
cried a cheerful Negro in a “porkpie” hat, who was standing behind a folding
table nearby, setting down and picking up playingcards.
    “If I didn’t know better, I’d say
that was one of those monte games,” murmured Lindsay, politely suppressing his
disapproval.
    “No, boss, it’s an ancient African
method of divination, allows you to change your fate.” The sharper who had
addressed them now began to move cards around with bewildering speed. At times
there were too many cards to count, at others none at all were visible, seeming
to have vanished into some dimension well beyond the third, though this could
have been a trick of what light there was.
    “O.K.! maybe it’s your lucky night,
just tell us where that red is, now.” Three cards lay facedown before them.
    After a moment of silence, it was
Miles who announced in a clear and firm
    voice, “The cards you have put down there all happen to be
black—your ‘ red’
is the nine of diamonds, the curse of Scotland, and it’s right here,”reaching
to lift the sharper’s hat, and to remove from atop his head, and exhibit, the
card at issue.
    “Lord have mercy, last time that
happened I ended up in the Cook County jail for a nice long vacation. A tribute
to your sharp eyes, young man, and no hard feelings,” holding out a tendollar
banknote.
    “Oh, that is . . .” Lindsay began
tentatively, but Miles had already pocketed the offering, amiably calling out,
“Evening, sir,” as they strolled away.
    A surprised expression could be noted
on Lindsay’s face. “That was . . . well
executed, Blundell. How did you know where that card was?”
    “Sometimes,” Miles with a strangely
apprehensive note in his voice, “these peculiar feelings will surround me,
Lindsay . . . like the electricity
coming on—as if I can see everything just as clear as day, how . . . how everything fits together,
connects. It doesn’t last long, though. Pretty soon I’m just back to tripping
over my feet again.”
    Presently they had come within view
of the searchlight beams sweeping the skies from the roof of the immense
Manufactures and Liberal Arts Building—a miniature city, nested within
the citywithinacity which was the Fair itself—and began to see caped
Columbian Guards on patrol, a reassuring sight, to Lindsay at least.
    “Come on, Lindsay,” Miles flourishing
the banknote they had acquired so unexpectedly. “Long as we have this windfall,
let’s go get us some root beer, and some of that ‘Cracker Jack,’ too. Say, what
do you know! We’re here! We’re at the Fair!” Meanwhile Randolph St. Cosmo , though out of
uniform, was still on duty. The detective agency he sought was located in a
seedy block of the New Levee district, between a variety saloon and