He throws this open.] Pardon from de governor! Step out and shake
hands! I'll take yuh for a walk down Fif' Avenoo. We'll knock 'em
offen de oith and croak wit de band playin'. Come on, Brother.
[The gorilla scrambles gingerly out of his cage. Goes to YANK and
stands looking at him. YANK keeps his mocking tone--holds out his
hand.] Shake--de secret grip of our order. [Something, the tone of
mockery, perhaps, suddenly enrages the animal. With a spring he
wraps his huge arms around YANK in a murderous hug. There is a
crackling snap of crushed ribs--a gasping cry, still mocking, from
YANK.] Hey, I didn't say, kiss me. [The gorilla lets the crushed
body slip to the floor; stands over it uncertainly, considering;
then picks it up, throws it in the cage, shuts the door, and
shuffles off menacingly into the darkness at left. A great uproar
of frightened chattering and whimpering comes from the other
cages. Then YANK moves, groaning, opening his eyes, and there is
silence. He mutters painfully.] Say--dey oughter match him--wit
Zybszko. He got me, aw right. I'm trou. Even him didn't tink I
belonged. [Then, with sudden passionate despair.] Christ, where do
I get off at? Where do I fit in? [Checking himself as suddenly.]
Aw, what de hell! No squakin', see! No quittin', get me! Croak wit
your boots on! [He grabs hold of the bars of the cage and hauls
himself painfully to his feet--looks around him bewilderedly--
forces a mocking laugh.
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