Here Mac Strann stared down at his mighty hand—a
significant answer, but Pale Annie went on swiftly:
“Yes, you’re strong, but strength won’t
save you from Dan Barry. We know him here in Elkhead.
Do you know that if he had pulled his gun and shot
you down right here where you sit, that he could have
walked out of this room without a hand raised to stop
him? Yes, sir! And why? Because we know
his record; and I’d rather go against a wolf
with my bare hands—as you did—than
stand up against Dan Barry with guns. I could
tell you how he fought Jim Silent’s gang, one
to six. I could tell you a lot of other things.
My friend, I will tell you about ’em
if you’ll listen.”
But Mac Strann considered the speaker with his dull
eyes.
“I never was much on talkin’,” he
observed mildly. “I don’t understand
talkin’ very well.”
Pale Annie started to speak again, but he checked
himself, stared earnestly at Mac Strann, and then
hurried back behind his bar. His face was even
graver than usual; but business was business with Pale
Annie—and all men have to die in their time!
Haw-Haw Langley took the place which Pale Annie had
left vacant opposite Mac Strann.
He cast a frightened glance upward, where the rain
roared steadily on the roof of the building; then
his eyes fluttered back until they rested on the face
of his companion. He had to moisten his thin lips
before he could speak and even then it was a convulsive
effort, like a man swallowing too large a morsel.
“Well?” said Haw-Haw. “Is it
fixed?”
“It’s fixed,” said Mac Strann.
“Maybe you’d get the hosses, Haw-Haw.
If you’re comin with me?”
A dark shadow swept over the face of Haw-Haw Langley.
“You’re going to beat it?” he sneered.
“After you come all this way you’re going
to run away from Barry? And him not half your
size?”
“I’m going out to meet him,” answered
Mac Strann.
Haw-Haw Langley started up as if he feared Mac Strann
would change his mind if there were any delay.
His long fingers twisted together, as if to bring
the blood into circulation about the purple knuckles.
“I’ll have the hosses right around to
the front,” he said. “By the time
you got your slicker on, Mac, I’ll have ’em
around in front!”
And he stalked swiftly from the room.
THE STORM
When they rode out of the town the wet sand squashed
under the feet of their horses and splashed up on
their riding boots and their slickers. It even
spotted their faces here and there, and a light brown
spray darted out to right and left of the falling
hoofs. For all the streets of Elkhead were running
shallow rivers, with dark, swift currents, and when
they left the little town the landscape was shut out
by the falling torrents. It made a strange and
shifting panorama, for the rain varied in its density
now and again, and as it changed hills which had been
quite blotted out leaped close upon them, like living
things, and then sprang back again into the mist.
