O'Brien pressed close to Barry.
"Partner," he said rapidly, "you're clear now—you're clear of more hell that you ever dream. Now climb that hoss of yours and feed him leather till you get clear of Brownsville—and if I was you I'd never come within a day's ride of the Three B's again."
The mild, brown eyes widened.
"I don't like crowds," murmured Barry.
"You're wise, kid," grinned the bartender—"a hell of a lot wiser than you know right now. On your way!"
And he turned to follow the crowd into the saloon. But Jerry Strann stood at the swinging doors, watching, and he saw Barry linger behind.
"Are you coming?" he called.
"You got another engagement here," mocked Strann. "Understand?"
The other hesitated for an instant, and then sighed deeply. "I suppose I'll stay," he murmured, and walked into the bar. Jerry Strann was smiling in the way that showed his teeth. As Barry passed he said softly: "I see we ain't going to have no trouble, you and me!" and he moved to clap his strong hand on the shoulder of the smaller man. Oddly enough, the hand missed, for Barry swerved2 from beneath it as a wolf swerves3 from the shadow of a falling branch. No perceptible effort—no sudden start of tensed muscles, but a movement so smooth that it was almost unnoticeable. But the hand of Strann fell through thin air.
"You're quick," he said. "If you was as quick with your hands as you are with your feet——"
Barry paused and the melancholy4 brown eyes dwelt on the face of Strann.
"Oh, hell!" snorted the other, and turned on his heel to the bar. "Drink up!" he commanded.
"A wolf, by God!" yelled one of the men.
The owner of the animal made his way with unobtrusive swiftness the length of the room and stood between the dog and a man who fingered the butt6 of his gun nervously7.
"He won't hurt you none," murmured that softly assuring voice.
"The hell he won't!" responded the other. "He took a pass at my leg just now and dam' near took it off. Got teeth like the blades of a pocket-knife!"
"You're on a cold trail, Sam," broke in one of the others. "That ain't any wolf. Look at him now!"
The big, shaggy animal had slunk to the feet of his master and with head abased8 stared furtively9 up into Barry's face. A gesture served as sufficient command, and he slipped shadow-like into the corner and crouched10 with his head on his paws and the incandescent11 green of his eyes glimmering12; Barry sat down in a chair nearby.
O'Brien was happily spinning bottles and glasses the length of the bar; there was the chiming of glass and the rumble14 of contented15 voices.
"Red-eye all 'round," said the loud voice of Jerry Strann, "but there's one out. Who's out? Oh, it's him. Hey O'Brien, lemonade for the lady."
It brought a laugh, a deep, good-natured laugh, and then a chorus of mockery; but Barry stepped unconfused to the bar, accepted the glass of lemonade, and when the others downed their fire-water, he sipped16 his drink thoughtfully. Outside, the wind had risen, and it shook the hotel and carried a score of faint voices as it whirred around corners and through cracks. Perhaps it was one of those voices which made the big dog lift its head from its paws and whine17 softly! surely it was something he heard which caused Barry to straighten at the bar and cant18 his head slightly to one side—but, as certainly, no one else in the barroom heard it. Barry set down his glass.
"Mr. Strann?" he called.
"Sister wants to speak to you," suggested O'Brien to Strann.
"Well?" roared the latter, "what d'you want?"
The others were silent to listen; and they smiled in anticipation20.
"If you don't mind, much," said the musical voice, "I think I'll be moving along."
There is an obscure little devil living in all of us. It makes the child break his own toys; it makes the husband strike the helpless wife; it makes the man beat the cringing21, whining22 dog. The greatest of American writers has called it the Imp23 of the Perverse24. And that devil came in Jerry Strann and made his heart small and cold. If he had been by nature the bully25 and the ruffian there would have been no point in all that followed, but the heart of Jerry Strann was ordinarily as warm as the yellow sunshine itself; and it was a common saying in the Three B's that Jerry Strann would take from a child what he would not endure from a mountain-lion. Women loved Jerry Strann, and children would crowd about his knees, but this day the small demon26 was in him.
"You want to be moving along" mimicked27 the devil in Jerry Strann. "Well, you wait a while. I ain't through with you yet. Maybe—" he paused and searched his mind. "You've given me a fall, and maybe you can give the rest of us—a laugh!"
"I want to ask you," went on the devil in Jerry Strann, "where you got your hoss?"
"He was running wild," came the gentle answer. "So I took a walk, one day, and brought him in."
A pause.
For it is one of the most difficult things in the world to capture a wild horse, and some hunters, in their desperation at seeing the wonderful animals escape, have tried to "crease31" them. That is, they strive to shoot so that the bullet will barely graze the top of the animal's vertebrae, just behind the ears, stunning32 the horse and making it helpless for the capture. But necessarily such shots are made from a distance, and little short of a miracle is needed to make the bullet strike true—for a fraction of an inch too low means death. So another laugh of appreciation ran around the barroom at the mention of creasing33.
"No," answered Barry, "I went out with a halter and after a while Satan got used to me and followed me home."
They waited only long enough to draw deep breath; then came a long yell of delight. But the obscure devil was growing stronger and stronger in Strann. He beat on the bar until he got silence. Then he leaned over to meet the eyes of Barry.
"That," he remarked through his teeth, "is a damned—lie!"
There is only one way of answering that word in the mountain-desert, and Barry did not take it. The melancholy brown eyes widened; he sighed, and raising his glass of lemonade sipped it slowly. Came a sick silence in the barroom. Men turned their eyes towards each other and then flashed them away again. It is not good that one who has the eyes and the tongue of a man should take water from another—even from a Jerry Strann. And even Jerry Strann withdrew his eyes slowly from his prey35, and shuddered36; the sight of the most grisly death is not so horrible as cowardice37.
And the devil which was still strong in Strann made him look about for a new target; Barry was removed from all danger by an incredible barrier. He found that new target at once, for his glance reached to the corner of the room and found there the greenish, glimmering eyes of the dog. He smote38 upon the bar.
What's the dog doin' here?"
And he caught up the heavy little whiskey glass and hurled40 it at the crouching41 dog. It thudded heavily, but it brought no yelp42 of pain; instead, a black thunderbolt leaped from the corner and lunged down the room. It was the silence of the attack that made it terrible, and Strann cursed and pulled his gun. He could never have used it. He was a whole half second too late, but before the dog sprang a voice cut in: "Bart!"
It checked the animal in its very leap; it landed on the floor and slid on stiffly extended legs to the feet of Strann.
"Bart!" rang the voice again.
And the beast, flattening43 to the floor, crawled backwards44, inch by inch; it was slavering, and there was a ravening45 madness in its eyes.
"Look at it!" cried Strann. "By God, it's mad!"
"Wait!" called the same voice which had checked the spring of the dog. Surely it could not have come from the lips of Barry. It held a resonance47 of chiming metal; it was not loud, but it carried like a brazen48 bell. "Don't do it, Strann!"
And it came to every man in the barroom that it was unhealthy to stand between the two men at that instant; a sudden path opened from Barry to Strann.
"Bart!" came the command again. "Heel!"
The dog obeyed with a slinking swiftness; Jerry Strann put up his gun and smiled.
"I don't take a start on no man," he announced quite pleasantly. "I don't need to. But—you yaller hearted houn'—get out from between. When I make my draw I'm goin' to kill that damn wolf."
Now, the fighting face of Jerry Strann was well known in the Three B's, and it was something for men to remember until they died in a peaceful bed. Yet there was not a glance, from the bystanders, for Strann. They stood back against the wall, flattening themselves, and they stared, fascinated, at the slender stranger. Not that his face had grown ugly by a sudden metamorphosis. It was more beautiful than ever, for the man was smiling. It was his eyes which held them. Behind the brown a light was growing, a yellow and unearthly glimmer13 which one felt might be seen on the darkest night.
There was none of the coward in Jerry Strann. He looked full into that yellow, glimmering, changing light—he looked steadily—and a strange feeling swept over him. No, it was not fear. Long experience had taught him that there was not another man in the Three B's, with the exception of his own terrible brother, who could get a gun out of the leather faster than he, but now it seemed to Jerry Strann that he was facing something more than mortal speed and human strength and surety. He could not tell in what the feeling was based. But it was a giant, dim foreboding holding dominion49 over other men's lives, and it sent a train of chilly-weakness through his blood.
"It's a habit of mine," said Jerry Strann, "to kill mad dogs when I see 'em." And he smiled again.
They stood for another long instant, facing each other. It was plain that every muscle in Strann's body was growing tense; the very smile was frozen on his lips. When he moved, at last, it was a convulsive jerk of his arm, and it was said, afterward50, that his gun was all clear of the leather before the calm stranger stirred. No eye followed what happened. Can the eye follow such speed as the cracking lash34 of a whip?
There was only one report. The forefinger51 of Strann did not touch his trigger, but the gun slipped down and dangled52 loosely from his hand. He made a pace forward with his smile grown to an idiotic53 thing and a patch of red sprang out in the centre of his breast. Then he lurched headlong to the floor.
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1
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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swerves
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| n.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的名词复数 )v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的第三人称单数 ) | |
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4
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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8
abased
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| 使谦卑( abase的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到羞耻； 使降低（地位、身份等）； 降下 | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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incandescent
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| adj.遇热发光的， 白炽的，感情强烈的 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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cant
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| n.斜穿，黑话，猛扔 | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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27
mimicked
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| v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的过去式和过去分词 )；酷似 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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30
creased
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的过去式和过去分词 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹； 皱皱巴巴 | |
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crease
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| n.折缝，褶痕，皱褶；v.(使)起皱 | |
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stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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creasing
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的现在分词 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹； 挑檐 | |
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34
lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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38
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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40
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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41
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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42
yelp
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| vi.狗吠 | |
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43
flattening
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| n. 修平 动词flatten的现在分词 | |
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44
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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45
ravening
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| a.贪婪而饥饿的 | |
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46
bead
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| n.念珠；(pl.)珠子项链；水珠 | |
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47
resonance
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| n.洪亮；共鸣；共振 | |
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48
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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49
dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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50
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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51
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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52
dangled
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| 悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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53
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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