the Night Horseman (1920) (15 page)

As for the watchers, they returned in dead silence to the barroom and they had hardly entered when Mac Strann stalked through the doors behind them; he went straight to O'Brien.

"Somewhere about," he said in his thick, deep voice, "they's a man named Dan Barry. Where is he?"

And O'Brien answered: "Mac, he was sittin' down at that table until two minutes ago, but where he is now I ain't any idea."

The tall, skeleton form of Haw-Haw Langley materialized behind Mac Strann, and his face was contorted with anger.

"If he was here two minutes ago," he said, "he ain't more than two minutes away."

"Which way?" asked Mac Strann.

"North," answered a score of voices.

O'Brien stepped up to Mac Strann. He said: "Mac, we know what you got in your mind. We know what you've lost, and there ain't any of us that ain't sorry for Jerry-and for you. But, Mac, I can give you the best advice you ever heard in your life: Keep off'n the trail of Barry!"

Haw-Haw Langley added at the ear of Mac Strann: "That was Jerry's advice when he lay dyin'. An' it's my advice, too. Mac, Barry ain't a safe man to foller!"

"Haw-Haw," answered Mac Strann. "Will you gimme a hand saddlin' my hoss? I got an appointment, an' I'm two minutes late already."

Chapter
18. DOCTOR BYRNE ANALYZES

IN THE ROOM which had been assigned to his use Doctor Randall Byrne sat down to an unfinished letter and began to write.

"Dinner has interrupted me, my dear Loughburne. I have dined opposite Miss Cumberland-only the two of us at a great table-with a side silence around us-and the Chinese cook padding to and fro from the kitchen. Have I told you of that room? No, I believe that I have made no more than casual mention of my environment here, for reasons which are patent. But tonight I wished that you might look in upon the scene. Along the walls hangs a rope with which Mr. Cumberland won a roping and tieing contest in his youth-a feat upon which he prides himself highly; at another place hang the six-shooters of a notorious desperado, taken from his dead body; there is the sombrero of a Mexican guerilla chief beside the picture of a prize bull, and an oil painting of Mr. Cumberland at middle age adjoins an immense calendar on which is portrayed the head of a girl in bright colors-a creature with amazing quantities of straw-colored hair. The table itself is of such size that it is said all the guests at a round-up-a festival of note in these barbaric regions-can be easily seated around it. On one side of this table I sat-and on the other side sat the girl, as far away as if an entire room had separated us.

"Before going down to the meal I had laid aside my glasses, for I have observed that spectacles, though often beneficial to the sight, are not always equally commendable in the opinion of women; and it should assuredly be one's endeavor to become agreeable to those about us.

"Be it noted at this point, my dear Loughburne, that I have observed peculiar properties in the eyes of Miss Cumberland. Those of all other humans and animals that have fallen under my observance were remarkable only for their use in seeing, whereas the eyes of Miss Cumberland seem peculiarly designed to be seen. This quality I attribute to the following properties of the said eyes. First, they are in size well beyond the ordinary. Secondly, they are of a color restful to behold. It is, indeed, the color of the deep, blue evening sky into which one may stare for an incalculable distance.

"As I have said, then, I noted a glow in these eyes, though they were so immediately lowered that I could not be sure. I felt, however, an extraordinary warmth beneath my collar, the suffusion of blood passing swiftly toward my forehead. I inquired if she had smiled and for what reason; whereat she immediately assured me that she had not, and smiled while making the assurance.

"I was now possessed of an unusual agitation, augmented by the manner in which Miss Cumberland looked at me out of twinkling but not unkindly eyes. What could have caused this perturbation I leave to your scientific keenness in analysis.

"I discovered an amazing desire to sing, which indecorous impulse I, of course, immediately inhibited and transferred the energy into conversation.

"'The weather,' said I, 'has been uncommonly delightful today.'

"I observed that Miss Cumberland greeted this sentence with another smile.

"Presently she remarked: 'It has seemed a bit windy to me.'

"I recalled that it is polite to agree with ladies and instantly subjoined with the greatest presence of mind: 'Quite right! A most abominably story day!'

"At this I was astonished to be greeted by another burst of laughter, even more pronounced than the others.

"'Doctor Byrne,' she said, 'you are absolutely unique.'

"'It is a point,' I said earnestly, 'which I shall immediately set about to change.'

"At this she raised both hands in a gesture of protest, so that I could observe her eyes shining behind the slender, brown fingers-observe, Loughburne, that white skin is falsely considered a thing of beauty in women-and she remarked, still laughing: 'Indeed, you must not change!'

"I replied with an adroit change of front, 'Certainly not.'

"For some mysterious reason the girl was again convulsed and broke off her laughter to cry in a voice of music which still tingles through me: 'Doctor Byrne, you are delightful!'

"I should gladly have heard her say more upon this point, but it being one which I could not gracefully dispute with her, and being unwilling that she should lapse into one of her usual silences, I ventured to change the subject from myself to her.

"'Miss Cumberland,' I said, 'I remark with much pleasure that the anxiety which has recently depressed you seems now in some measure lessened. I presume Mr. Daniels will be successful in his journey, though what the return of Mr. Daniels accompanied by Mr. Barry can accomplish, is, I confess, beyond my computation. Yet you are happier in the prospect of Mr. Barry's return?'

"I asked this question with a falling heart, though I remain ignorant of the cause to which I can attribute any sudden depression. Still more mysterious was the delight which I felt when the girl shook her head slowly and answered: 'Even if he comes, it will mean nothing.'

"I said: 'Then let us intercept him and send him back!'

"She cried out, as if I had hurt her: 'No, no, no!' and twisted her fingers together in pain. She added at once: 'What of poor Dad?'

"'Your father,' I confessed, 'had for the moment slipped my mind.'

"It seemed to me, however, that it was not wholly on her father's account that she was grieved. She wished Mr. Barry to return, and yet she dreaded his coming. It was most mysterious. However, I had started Miss Cumberland thinking. She stopped eating and began to stare before her. Presently she said: 'It is strange that we don't hear from Buck. What can have held him so long?'

"I regretted extremely that I had introduced the topic and cast about in my mind for another, but could not find one. I then expressed regret that I had revived her worries, but received in reply a smile in which there was no life: the very color had died out from her cheeks. And she sat during the rest of the meal without speaking a word.

"Afterwards I went in with her to see Mr. Cumberland. His condition was not materially changed. The marvel of it grows upon me more and more. It is a freak which defies medical science. There lies a man at the point of dissolution. His body has died of old age, and yet the life principle remains. He does not eat-at least, the nourishment he takes is wholly negligible. But he still has energy. To be sure, he rarely moves about and his body remains practically inert. But we must never forget that the mind is a muscle and calls for continual rebuilding. And the mind of Mr. Cumberland is never inactive. It works ceaselessly. It will not permit him to sleep. For three days, now, as far as I can tell, he has not closed his eyes. It might be assumed that he is in a state of trance, but by a series of careful experiments, I have ascertained that he is constantly thinking in the most vigorous fashion.

"What does it mean? There is in the man a flame-like quality; something is burning in him every instant. But on what does the flame feed? I know that material cannot be created and that energy means dissolution of matter: but why does not the life of Joseph Cumberland dissolve?

"The subject possesses me. I dare not ponder it too steadily or my brain begins to whirl. I make no progress toward any reasonable solution. I only feel that I am living in the presence of an astounding mystery.

"Strange thoughts possess me. What is the fire that burns but does not consume Joe Cumberland? What is the thing in the wandering Dan Barry which Kate Cumberland fears and yet waits for? Why was it that Daniels trembled with dread when he started out to find a man who, by his own profession, he holds to be his best friend?

"You see how the mystery assumes shape? It is before me. It is in my head. And yet I cannot grasp its elements.

"The story of a man, a horse, and a dog. What is the story?

"Today I wandered about the corrals and came to one which was bounded by a fence of extraordinary height. It was a small corral, but all the posts were of great size, and the rails were as large as ordinary posts. I inquired what strange beasts could be kept in such a pen, and the man-of-all-work of whom I asked replied: 'That is Satan's corral.'

"I guessed at some odd story. 'The devil?' I cried. 'Do they fence the devil in a corral?'

"'Oh, ay,' said the fellow, 'he's a devil, right enough. If we'd let him run with the other hosses he'd have cut 'em to ribbons. That's what kind of a devil he is!'

"A story of a man, a horse, and a dog. I think I have seen the great chain which bound the dog. Was that the place where they kept the horse?

"And, if so, what bonds are used for the man? And what sort of man can he be? One of gigantic size, no doubt, to mate his horse and his dog. A fierce and intractable nature, for otherwise Kate Cumberland could not dread him. And yet a man of singular values, for all this place seems to wait for his return. I catch the fire of expectancy. It eats into my flesh. Dreams haunt me night and day. What will be the end?

"Now I am going down to see Mr. Cumberland again. I know what I shall see-the flickerikng of the fire behind his eyes. The lightning glances, the gentle, rare voice, the wasted face; and by him will be Kate Cumberland; and they both will seem to be listening, listening-for what?

"No more tonight. But, Loughburne, you should be here; I feel that the like of this has never been upon the earth.

"Byrne."

Chapter
19. SUSPENSE

HE FOUND them as he had expected, the girl beside the couch, and the old man prone upon it, wrapped to the chin in a gaudy Navajo blanket. But tonight his eyes were closed, a most unusual thing, and Byrne could look more closely at the aged face. For on occasions when the eyes were wide, it was like looking into the throat of a searchlight to stare at the features-all was blurred. He discovered now wrinkled and purple-stained lids under the deep shadow of the brows-and his eyes were so sunken that there seemed to be no pupils there. Over the cheekbones the skin was drawn so tightly that it shone, and the cheeks fell away into cadaverous hollows. But the lips, beneath the shag of gray beard, were tightly compressed. No, this was not sleep. It carried, as Byrne gazed, a connotation of swifter, fiercer thinking, than if the gaunt old man had stalked the floor and poured forth a tirade of words.

The girl came to meet the doctor. She said: "Will you use a narcotic?"

"Why?" asked Byrne. "He seems more quite than usual."

"Look more closely," she whispered.

And when he obeyed, he saw that the whole body of Joe Cumberland quivered like an aspen, continually. So the finger of the duelist trembles on the trigger of his gun before he receives the signal to fire-a suspense more terrible than the actual face of death.

"A narcotic?" she pleaded. "Something to give him just one moment of full relaxation?"

"I can't do it," said Byrne. "If his heart were a shade stronger, I should. But as it is, the only thing that sustains him is the force of his will power. Do you want me to unnerve the very strength which keeps him alive?"

She shuddered.

"Do you mean that if he sleeps it will be-death?"

"I have told you before," said the doctor, "that there are phases of this case which I do not understand. I predict nothing with certainty. But I very much fear that if your father falls into a complete slumber he will never waken from it. Once let his brain cease functioning and I fear that the heart will follow suit."

They stood on the farther side of the room and spoke in the softest of whispers, but now the deep, calm voice of the old man broke in: "Doc, they ain't no use of worryin'. They ain't no use of medicine. All I need is quiet."

"Do you want to be alone?" asked the girl.

"No, not so long as you don't make no noise. I can 'most hear something, but your whisperin' shuts it off."

They obeyed him, with a glance at each other. And soon they caught the far off beat of a horse in a rapid gallop.

"Is it that?" cried Kate, leaning forward and touching her father's hand. "Is that horse what you hear?"

"No, no!" he answered impatiently. "That ain't what I hear. It ain't no hoss that I hear!"