Blue drawled these last words, as if he enjoyed remembrance of his keen reasoning. A smile wreathed his thin lips. He drew twice on the cigarette and emitted another cloud of smoke. Quite suddenly then he changed. He made a rapid gesture--the whip of a hand, significant and passionate. And swift words followed:
"Colonel Lee Jorth stalked out of the store--out into the road--mebbe a hundred steps. Then he halted. He wore his long black coat an' his wide black hat, an' he stood like a stone.
"'What the hell!' burst out Blaisdell, comin' out of his trance.
"The rest of us jest looked. I'd forgot your dad, for the minnit.
So had all of us. But we remembered soon enough when we seen him stalk out. Everybody had a hunch then. I called him. Blaisdell begged him to come back. All the fellars; had a say. No use!
Then I shore cussed him an' told him it was plain as day thet Jorth didn't hit me like an honest man. I can sense such things. I knew Jorth had trick up his sleeve. I've not been a gun fighter fer nothin'.
"Your dad had no rifle. He packed his gun at his hip. He jest stalked down thet road like a giant, goin' faster an' faster, holdin' his head high. It shore was fine to see him. But I was sick. I heerd Blaisdell groan, an' Fredericks thar cussed somethin' fierce. . . . When your dad halted--I reckon aboot fifty steps from Jorth--then we all went numb.
I heerd your dad's voice--then Jorth's. They cut like knives.
Y'u could shore heah the hate they hed fer each other."
Blue had become a little husky. His speech had grown gradually to denote his feeling. Underneath his serenity there was a different order of man.
"I reckon both your dad an' Jorth went fer their guns at the same time --an even break. But jest as they drew, some one shot a rifle from the store. Must hev been a forty-five seventy. A big gun! The bullet must have hit your dad low down, aboot the middle. He acted thet way, sinkin' to his knees. An' he was wild in shootin'--so wild thet he must hev missed. Then he wabbled--an' Jorth run in a dozen steps, shootin' fast, till your dad fell over. . . . Jorth run closer, bent over him, an' then straightened up with an Apache yell, if I ever heerd one. . . . An' then Jorth backed slow--lookin' all the time--backed to the store, an' went in."
Blue's voice ceased. Jean seemed suddenly released from an impelling magnet that now dropped him to some numb, dizzy depth. Blue's lean face grew hazy. Then Jean bowed his head in his hands, and sat there, while a slight tremor shook all his muscles at once. He grew deathly cold and deathly sick. This paroxy** slowly wore away, and Jean grew conscious of a dull amaze at the apparent deadness of his spirit.
Blaisdell placed a huge, kindly hand on his shoulder.
"Brace up, son!" he said, with voice now clear and resonant. "Shore it's what your dad expected--an' what we all must look for. . . .
If yu was goin' to kill Jorth before--think how -- -- shore y'u're goin' to kill him now."
"Blaisdell's talkin'," put in Blue, and his voice had a cold ring.
"Lee Jorth will never see the sun rise ag'in!"
These calls to the primitive in Jean, to the Indian, were not in vain.
But even so, when the dark tide rose in him, there was still a haunting consciousness of the cruelty of this singular doom imposed upon him.
Strangely Ellen Jorth's face floated back in the depths of his vision, pale, fading, like the face of a spirit floating by.
"Blue," said Blaisdell, "let's get Isbel's body soon as we dare, an' bury it. Reckon we can, right after dark."
"Shore," replied Blue. "But y'u fellars figger thet out. I'm thinkin' hard. I've got somethin' on my mind."
Jean grew fascinated by the looks and speech and action of the little gunman. Blue, indeed, had something on his mind. And it boded ill to the men in that dark square stone house down the road. He paced to and fro in the yard, back and forth on the path to the gate, and then he entered the cabin to stalk up and down, faster and faster, until all at once he halted as if struck, to upfling his right arm in a singular fierce gesture.
"Jean, call the men in," he said, tersely.
They all filed in, sinister and silent, with eager faces turned to the little Texan. His dominance showed markedly.
Gordon, y'u stand in the door an' keep your eye peeled," went on Blue.
. . . Now, boys, listen! I've thought it all out. This game of man huntin' is the same to me as cattle raisin' is to y'u. An' my life in Texas all comes back to me, I reckon, in good stead fer us now. I'm goin' to kill Lee Jorth! Him first, an' mebbe his brothers. I had to think of a good many ways before I hit on one I reckon will be shore.
It's got to be SHORE. Jorth has got to die! Wal, heah's my plan. . . .
Thet Jorth outfit is drinkin' some, we can gamble on it. They're not goin' to leave thet store. An' of course they'll be expectin' us to start a fight. I reckon they'll look fer some such siege as they held round Isbel's ranch. But we shore ain't goin' to do thet. I'm goin' to surprise thet outfit. There's only one man among them who is dangerous, an' thet's Queen. I know Queen. But he doesn't know me.
An' I'm goin' to finish my job before he gets acquainted with me.
After thet, all right!"
Blue paused a moment, his eyes narrowing down, his whole face setting in hard cast of intense preoccupation, as if he visualized a scene of extraordinary nature.
"Wal, what's your trick?" demanded Blaisdell.
"Y'u all know Greaves's store," continued Blue. "How them winders have wooden shutters thet keep a light from showin' outside? Wal, I'm gamblin' thet as soon as it's dark Jorth's gang will be celebratin. They'll be drinkin' an' they'll have a light, an' the winders will be shut. They're not goin' to worry none aboot us. Thet store is like a fort. It won't burn. An' shore they'd never think of us chargin' them in there. Wal, as soon as it's dark, we'll go round behind the lots an' come up jest acrost the road from Greaves's. I reckon we'd better leave Isbel where he lays till this fight's over. Mebbe y'u 'll have more 'n him to bury.