“Yes, I’ll have the contracts ready tomorrow.”

He laughed. That’s just the way they talk, he said to himself. He grew weary of the game and pushed the machine aside. His eyes fell upon the can of glue and a mischievous idea bloomed in him, filling him with nervous eagerness. He leaped up and opened the can of glue, then untied the sack and broke open the wads of bills. I’m going to have some wallpaper, he said with a luxurious, physical laugh that made him bend at the knees. He took the towel with which he tied the sack and balled it into a swab and dipped it into the can and dabbed glue onto the wall; then he pasted one green bill neatly by the side of another. He stepped back and cocked his head. Jesus! That’s funny . . . ! He slapped his thighs and guffawed. He had triumphed over the world aboveground. He was free! He remembered how he had hugged the few dollars Mrs. Wooten had given him and he wanted to run from the underground and yell his discovery to the world.

He finally controlled his laughter and swabbed all the dirt walls of the cave with glue and pasted them with green bills; when he finished, he stood in the center of the room and marveled—the walls blazed with an indescribable yellow-green fire. Yes, this room would be his main hideout; between him and the world that had rejected him would stand this mocking symbol. He had not stolen the money; he had simply taken it, just as a man would pick up firewood in a forest. And that was how the world aboveground now seemed to him, a wild forest filled with death, stalked by blind animals.

The walls of money finally palled on him and he grew sleepy, but there was no fun in using a tool box for a pillow. As he sat there nodding he found himself wanting to start out exploring in the sewers, and wanting to lie down and take a nap. The impulse to wander prevailed and he rose and clicked off the light and radio and went to the opening and climbed through and stood in the glassy water, watching the checkered pattern wrought by the light falling from the manhole cover. He sloshed with the rod for a quarter of an hour and suddenly, when he put his right foot forward at a street intersection, he fell backward and shot down violently into the grey water. In a spasm of terror his right hand clutched the rod and he felt the streaking water tugging at his body. The current reached his neck and for a moment he was stationary; his chest heaved and it was some time before he realized what had happened to him. He had dropped into a down-curve and had saved himself only because the rod had caught on either side of the hole. He took quick stock of his plight; if he moved clumsily he might be sucked under after all. He grasped the rod with both hands and slowly worked himself over to one side of the down-curve and grabbed hold of a concrete edge. He heaved a deep sigh and pulled himself up and stood again in the sweeping water; he peered about, thankful that he had missed death.