When he awoke it was
morning, his head aching, his mouth dry, and the room cooler. Glancing
toward the door he saw it standing open and then noticed the disorder of
the room, and of himself, and sat up to find he was on the floor, once
more disrobed, and the place stripped of every portable thing in it, even
the bed, little stove, and the trunk filled with clothes and a few
personal possessions sacred to Mickey because they had been his mother's.
The men had used the key in Junior's pocket to enter while he slept,
drugged him, and carried away everything. He crept to the door and closed
it, then sank on the floor and cried until he again became unconscious. It
was four o'clock that afternoon when Mickey looked in and understood the
situation. He bent over Junior's bruised and battered body, stared at his
swollen, tear-stained face, and darting from the room, brought water, and
then food and clothing.
Redressed and fed, Junior lay on the floor and said to Mickey: "Go to the
nearest 'phone and call father.
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