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"I dunno," he muttered, after a moment. "Jerry was always for fightin', but he wasn't never for killin'. He never liked the way I done things.
And when he was lyin' here, Haw-Haw, he never said nothin' about me gettin' Barry. Did he?"
Astonishment froze the lips of Haw-Haw. He managed to stammer: "Ain't you going to get Barry? Ain't you goin' to bust him up, Mac?"
"I dunno," repeated the big man heavily. "Seems like I've got no heart for killing. Seems like they's enough death in the world." He pressed his hand against his forehead and closed his eyes. "Seems like they's something dead in me. They's an ache that goes ringin' in my head.
They's a sort of hollow feelin' inside me. And I keep thinkin' about times when I was a kid and got hurt and cried." He drew a deep breath.
"Oh, my G.o.d, Haw-Haw, I'd give most anything if I could bust out cryin'
now!"
While Mac Strann stood with his eyes closed, speaking his words slowly, syllable by syllable, like the tolling of a bell, Haw-Haw Langley stood with parted lips--like the spirit of famine drinking deep; joy unutterable was glittering in his eyes.
"If Jerry'd wanted me to get this Barry, he'd of said so," repeated Mac Strann. "But he didn't." He turned towards the dead face. "Look at Jerry now. He ain't thinkin' about killin's. Nope, he's thinkin' about some quiet place for sleep. I know the place. They's a spring that come out in a holler between two mountains; and the wind blows up the valley all the year; and they's a tree that stands over the spring. That's where I'll put him. He loved the sound of runnin' water; and the wind'll be on his face; and the tree'll sort of mark the place. Jerry, lad, would ye like that?"
Now, while Mac Strann talked, inspiration came to Haw-Haw Langley, and he stretched out his gaunt arms to it and gathered it in to his heart.
"Mac," he said, "don't you see no reason why Jerry wouldn't ask you to go after Barry?"
"Eh?" queried Mac Strann, turning.
But as he turned, Haw-Haw Langley glided towards him, and behind him, as if he found it easier to talk when the face of Mac was turned away. And while he talked his hands reached out towards Mac Strann like one who is begging for alms.
"Mac, don't you remember that Barry beat Jerry to the draw?"
"What's that to do with it?"
"But he beat him bad to the draw. I seen it. Barry _waited_ for Jerry.
Understand?"
"What of that?"
"Mac, you're blind! Jerry knowed you'd be throwing yourself away if you went up agin Barry."
At this Mac Strann whirled with a suddenness surprising for one of his bulk. Haw-Haw Langley flattened his gaunt frame against the wall.
"Mac!" he pleaded, "_I_ didn't say you'd be throwin' yourself away. It was Jerry's idea."
"Did Jerry tell you that?" he asked.
"So help me G.o.d!"
"Did Jerry _want_ me to get Barry?"
"Why wouldn't he?" persisted the vulture, twisting his bony hands together in an agony of alarm and suspense. "Ain't it nacheral, Mac?"
Mac Strann wavered where he stood.
"Somehow," he argued to himself, "it don't seem like killin' is right, here."
The long hand of Langley touched his shoulder.
He whispered rapidly: "You remember last night when you was out of the room for a minute? Jerry turned his head to me--jest the way he's lyin'
now--and I says: 'Jerry, is there anything I can do for you?'"
Mac Strann reached up and his big fingers closed over those of Haw-Haw.
"Haw-Haw," he muttered, "you was his frien'. I know that."
Haw-Haw gathered a.s.surance.
He said: "Jerry answers to me: 'Haw-Haw, old pal, there ain't nothin'
you can do for me. I'm goin' West. But after I'm gone, keep Mac away from Barry.'
"I says: 'Why, Jerry?"
"'Because Barry'll kill him, sure,' says Jerry.
"'I'll do what I can to keep him away from Barry,' says I, 'but don't you want nothin' done to the man what killed you?'
"'Oh, Haw-Haw,' says Jerry, 'I ain't goin' to rest easy, I ain't goin'
to sleep in heaven--until I know Barry's been sent to h.e.l.l. But for G.o.d's sake don't let Mac know what I want, or he'd be sure to go after Barry and get what I got.'"
Mac Strann crushed the hand of Haw-Haw in a terrible grip.
"Partner," he said, "d'you swear this is straight?"
"So help me G.o.d!" repeated the perjurer.
"Then," said Mac Strann, "I got to leave the buryin' to other men what I'll hire. Me--I've got business on hand. Where did Barry run to?"
"He ain't run," cried Haw-Haw, choking with a strange emotion. "The fool--the d.a.m.ned fool!--is waiting right down here in O'Brien's bar for you to come. He's _darin'_ you to come!"
Mac Strann made no answer. He cast a single glance at the peaceful face of Jerry, and then started for the door. Haw-Haw waited until the door closed; then he wound his arms about his body, writhed in an ecstasy of silent laughter, and followed with long, shambling strides.
CHAPTER XVII
BUCK MAKES HIS GET-AWAY
Straight from the room of the dead man, Fatty Matthews had hurried down to the bar, and there he stepped into the silence and found the battery of eyes all turned upon that calm figure at the end of the room. Upon this man he trotted, breathing hard, and his fat sides jostled up and down as he ran. According to Brownsville, there were only two things that could make Fatty run: a gun or the sight of a drink. But all maxims err. When he reached Barry he struck him on the shoulder with a heavy hand. That is, he struck at the shoulder, but as if the shadow of the falling hand carried a warning before it, at the same time that it dropped Barry swerved around in his chair. Not a hurried movement, but in some mysterious manner his shoulder was not in the way of the plump fist. It struck, instead, upon the back of the chair, and the marshal cursed bitterly.
"Stranger," he said hotly, "I got one thing to say: Jerry Strann has just died upstairs. In ten seconds Mac Strann will be down here lookin'
for _you_!"
He stepped back, humming desperately to cover his wheezing, but Barry continued to braid the horsehair with deft fingers.