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looking around at Callahan and the rest of the boys and realizing with surprise that I hadn't been the least bit scared。 They were looking around too； and it was a few seconds before we saw MacDonald。
He was sitting rigid in his chair； trembling like a man with a killing fever。 Doc Webster started for him like an overweight white corpuscle but pulled up short and looked helpless。 The air around MacDonald's head seemed to shimmer like the air over a campfire； and we heard his teeth gnashing。
Then； not suddenly but gradually； almost imperceptibly at first； he began to relax。 Muscles unknotted； joints unlocked； his face began to soften。 He。。。 I don't know how to say this either。 He wore his face differently。 The MacDonald he loosened into was changed； somehow older。
He had won。
〃Our deepest thanks； gentlemen；〃 he said in a more resonant voice than he had used before。 〃I think we'll be all right from here on。〃
〃What will you do now？〃 Callahan rapped； and I wondered at the cold steel in his voice。
MacDonald considered for a moment。 〃We're not really sure；〃 he decided finally； 〃but whatever we do； we hope we can find a way to help other people the way you've helped us。 There must be lots of things we can do。 Maybe we'll finish school and bee a psychiatrist like I planned once。 Imagine … a telepathic headshrinker。〃
Callahan's hand came away from the trigger of the scattergun for the first time； Jim/Paul didn't catch it； but I did。 I was rather glad to know that the intentions of the world's only two telepaths were benign； myself。
Callahan looked puzzled for a second； then his face split into a huge grin。 〃Say； can I offer you fellas a drink？〃
And MacDonald's new voice echoed him perfectly。
〃Don't mind if we do；〃 he added； laughing； and got up to take a chair at the bar。
〃Hey；〃 Fast Eddie called out； ever one to remember the important details； 〃wait a minute。 De cops'll be lookin' for youse fer leavin' dat accident。 Whaddya gonna tell 'em？ Fer dat matter； how d'ya get yer udder body outa King's Park？〃
〃Oh； I dunno；〃 Callahan mused； putting a careful double … shot of Chivas Regal in front of MacDonald。 〃It seems to me a telepath could dodge him a lot of cops。 Or a lot of witchdoctors。 Wouldn't you say； gents？〃
〃We guess so；〃 MacDonald allowed； and drank up。
And they were right。 All three of them。
I haven't heard much from either of the MacDonald brothers yet； but then it hasn't been that long； and I'm sure they've both got a lot of thinking and catching up to do。 I wonder if either of them is thinking of having kids。 One way or another； I expect to be hearing good things of them； really good things； any day now。
It figures； I mean； two heads are better than one。
5
THE LAW OF CONSERVATION OF PAIN
There's a curious kind of inevitability to the way things happen at Callahan's。 Not that we wouldn't have managed to help The Meddler out some way or other even if it had been； say； Thursday night that he came to us。 But since it was Monday night； I finally got to learn what it is that 〃heavy metal〃 rock music is good for。
After ten years as a musician； it was about time I found out。
Monday night is Fill…More Night at Callahan's Place； the night Fast Eddie and I do our weekly set on piano and guitar。 But don't let the name mislead you into thinking we play the kind of ear…splitting music the Fillmore East was famous for。 Although I do play an electric axe （a Country Gent Six） and have an amplifier factory guaranteed to shatter glass； these are the only remnants of a very brief flirtation with heavy metal that occurred in much hungrier times than these。 I don't like loud noises。
No； the name derives from the curious custom we have at Callahan's of burying our dead soldiers in the fireplace。 You can usually tell how good a night it's been by how many glasses lay smashed on the hearth； and after one particularly tasty session Doc Webster nicknamed Eddie and me the Fireside Fill…More。 To our intense disgust； it stuck。
This particular Monday night； things were loose indeed。 Eddie and I had held off our first set for half an hour to acmodate a couple of the boys who were playing a sort of pool on the floor with apples and broomsticks； and by the time Callahan had set up the two immense speakers on either side of the front door； the joint was pretty merry。
〃What're you gonna play； Jake？〃 the Doc called out from his ringside seat。 I adjusted the mike…stand； turned up my axe just enough to put it on an equal footing with Fast Eddie's upright； and tossed the ball right back to the Doc。
〃What would you like to hear； Doc？〃
〃How about； 'There Are Tears In My Ears From Lying On My Back And Crying In The Evening Over You？'〃
〃Naw；〃 drawled Long…Drink from the bar； 〃I want to hear ‘He Didn't Like Her Apartment So He Knocked Her Flat；'〃 and a few groans were heard。
Doc Webster rose to the occasion。 〃Why not play the Butcher Song； Jake？〃
I resigned myself to the inevitable。 〃The Butcher Song？〃
〃Sure；〃 boomed the Doc； and conducting an invisible band； he sang； 〃Butcher arms around me honey/hold me tight。。。〃 Peanuts began to rain on his head。
Callahan shifted the right speaker a bit； and turned around with his hands on his hips。 〃Play the Camera Song； Jake。〃
〃Hit me； Mike。〃
With a voice like a fog…horn undergoing root…canal work； Callahan began； 〃Lens get together 'bout half past eight/I'll ring your Bell & Howell。。。〃 and a considerable number of glasses hit the fireplace at once。 One or two had not been emptied first； the crackling fire flared high。
In the brief pause that ensued； Fast Eddie spoke up plaintively。
〃Hey Jake。 I got an idea。〃
〃Be gentle with it；〃 the Doc grinned。 〃It's in a strange place。〃
〃What's your idea； Eddie？〃 I asked。
〃How about if we do de one we been rehoisin' all afternoon？〃
I nodded judiciously； and turned to face the house。 〃Regulars and gentlemen；〃 I announced； 〃for our first number we would like to do a song we wrote yesterday in an attempt to define that elusive essence； that shared quality which brings us all together here at Callahan's Place。 In its way it is a song about all of us。
〃It's called the Drunkard's Song。〃
And as Eddie's nimble piano intro cut through the ensuing catcalls； I stoked up my guitar and sang：
A swell and wealthy relative of mine had up and died
And I got a hundred thousand from the will
So a friend and I decided to convert it into liquid form
The better our esophagi to fill
So we started in the city； had a drink in every shitty
Little ginmill； which is really quite a few
And a cabbie up in Harlem took us clean across the river
Into Brooklyn； where he joined us in a brew
We was weavin' just a trifle as we pulled into Astoria
At eighty miles an hour in reverse
But it was nothin' to the weavin' that we did as we was leavin'
And from time to time it got a little worse
Well there's nothin' like drinkin' up a windfall
We was drunker than a monkey with a skinfull