to the last man-第52节

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we　all　thought。〃

〃Ah！　。　。　。　Who　did　kill　my　father？〃　burst　out　Ellen；　and　her　voice
rang　like　great　hammers　at　her　ears。

〃It　was　Blue。　　He　went　in　the　storealonefaced　the　whole　gang　alone。
Bluffed　themtaunted　themtold　them　he　was　King　Fisher。　。　。　。　Then　he
killedyour　dadan'　Jackson　Jorth。　。　。　。　Jean　was　outback　of　the
store。　　We　were　outfront。　　There　was　shootin'。　　Colmor　was　hit。
Then　Blue　ran　outbad　hurt。　。　。　。　Both　of　themdied　in　Meeker's　yard。〃

〃An'　so　Jean　Isbel　has　not　killed　a　Jorth！〃　said　Ellen；　in　strange；
deep　voice。

〃No；〃　replied　Isbel；　earnestly。　　〃I　reckon　this　feudwas　hardest　on
Jean。　　He　never　lived　heah。　。　。　。　An'　my　sister　Ann　saidhe　got　sweet
on　y'u。　。　。　。　Now　did　he？〃

Slow；　stinging　tears　filled　Ellen's　eyes；　and　her　head　sank　low　and　lower。

〃Yeshe　did；〃　she　murmured；　tremulously。

〃Ahuh！　　Wal；　thet　accounts；〃　replied　Isbel；　wonderingly。　　〃Too　bad！　。　。　。
It　might　have　been。　。　。　。　A　man　always　seesdifferent　whenhe's　dyin'。
。　。　。　If　I　hadmy　lifeto　live　over　again！　。　。　。　My　poor　kidsdeserted
in　their　babyhoodruined　for　life！　　All　for　nothin'。　。　。　。
May　God　forgive〃

Then　he　choked　and　whispered　for　water。

Ellen　laid　his　head　back　and；　rising；　she　took　his　sombrero　and　started
hurriedly　down　the　slope；　making　dust　fly　and　rocks　roll。　　Her　mind　was
a　seething　ferment。　　Leaping；　bounding；　sliding　down　the　weathered　slope；
she　gained　the　bench；　to　run　across　that；　and　so　on　down　into　the　open
canyon　to　the　willow…bordered　brook。　　Here　she　filled　the　sombrero　with
water　and　started　back；　forced　now　to　walk　slowly　and　carefully。　　It　was
then；　with　the　violence　and　fury　of　intense　muscular　activity　denied　her；
that　the　tremendous　import　of　Bill　Isbel's　revelation　burst　upon　her
very　flesh　and　blood　and　transfiguring　the　very　world　of　golden　light
and　azure　sky　and　speaking　forestland　that　encompassed　her。

Not　a　drop　of　the　precious　water　did　she　spill。　　Not　a　misstep　did　she
make。　　Yet　so　great　was　the　spell　upon　her　that　she　was　not　aware　she
had　climbed　the　steep　slope　until　the　dog　yelped　his　welcome。　　Then
with　all　the　flood　of　her　emotion　surging　and　resurging　she　knelt　to　
allay　the　parching　thirst　of　this　dying　enemy　whose　words　had　changed
frailty　to　strength；　hate　to　love；　and；　the　gloomy　hell　of　despair　to
something　unutterable。　　But　she　had　returned　too　late。　　Bill　Isbel
was　dead。



CHAPTER　XIII

Jean　Isbel；　holding　the　wolf…dog　Shepp　in　leash；　was　on　the　trail　of
the　most　dangerous　of　Jorth's　gang；　the　gunman　Queen。　　Dark　drops　of
blood　on　the　stones　and　plain　tracks　of　a　rider's　sharp…heeled　boots
behind　coverts　indicated　the　trail　of　a　wounded；　slow…traveling　
fugitive。　　Therefore；　Jean　Isbel　held　in　the　dog　and　proceeded　with
the　wary　eye　and　watchful　caution　of　an　Indian。

Queen；　true　to　his　class；　and　emulating　Blue　with　the　same　magnificent
effrontery　and　with　the　same　paralyzing　suddenness　of　surprise；　had
appeared　as　if　by　magic　at　the　last　night　camp　of　the　Isbel　faction。
Jean　had　seen　him　first；　in　time　to　leap　like　a　panther　into　the　shadow。　
But　he　carried　in　his　shoulder　Queen's　first　bullet　of　that　terrible
encounter。　　Upon　Gordon　and　Fredericks　fell　the　brunt　of　Queen's
fusillade。　　And　they；　shot　to　pieces；　staggering　and　falling；　held
passionate　grip　on　life　long　enough　to　draw　and　still　Queen's　guns
and　send　him　reeling　off　into　the　darkness　of　the　forest。

Unarmed；　and　hindered　by　a　painful　wound；　Jean　had　kept　a　vigil　near
camp　all　that　silent　and　menacing　night。　　Morning　disclosed　Gordon　and
Fredericks　stark　and　ghastly　beside　the　burned…out　camp…fire；　their　guns
clutched　immovably　in　stiffened　hands。　　Jean　buried　them　as　best　he　could；
and　when　they　were　under　ground　with　flat　stones　on　their　graves　he　knew
himself　to　be　indeed　the　last　of　the　Isbel　clan。　　And　all　that　was　wild
and　savage　in　his　blood　and　desperate　in　his　spirit　rose　to　make　him
more　than　man　and　less　than　human。　　Then　for　the　third　time　during
these　tragic　last　days　the　wolf…dog　Shepp　came　to　him。

Jean　washed　the　wound　Queen　had　given　him　and　bound　it　tightly。
The　keen　pang　and　burn　of　the　lead　was　a　constant　and　all…powerful
reminder　of　the　grim　work　left　for　him　to　do。　　The　whole　world　was　no
longer　large　enough　for　him　and　whoever　was　left　of　the　Jorths。　　The
heritage　of　blood　his　father　had　bequeathed　him；　the　unshakable　love
for　a　worthless　girl　who　had　so　dwarfed　and　obstructed　his　will　and
so　bitterly　defeated　and　reviled　his　poor；　romantic；　boyish　faith；
the　killing　of　hostile　men；　so　strange　in　its　after　effects；　the
pursuits　and　fights；　and　loss　of　one　by　one　of　his　confederatesthese
had　finally　engendered　in　Jean　Isbel　a　wild；　unslakable　thirst；　these
had　been　the　cause　of　his　retrogression；　these　had　unalterably　and
ruthlessly　fixed　in　his　darkened　mind　one　fierce　passionto　live
and　die　the　last　man　of　that　Jorth…Isbel　feud。

At　sunrise　Jean　left　this　camp；　taking　with　him　only　a　small　knapsack
of　meat　and　bread；　and　with　the　eager；　wild　Shepp　in　leash　he　set　out
on　Queen's　bloody　trail。

Black　drops　of　blood　on　the　stones　and　an　irregular　trail　of　footprints
proved　to　Jean　that　the　gunman　was　hard　hit。　　Here　he　had　fallen；　or
knelt；　or　sat　down；　evidently　to　bind　his　wounds。　　Jean　found　strips
of　scarf；　red　and　discarded。　　And　the　blood　drops　failed　to　show　on
more　rocks。　　In　a　deep　forest　of　spruce；　under　silver…tipped　spreading
branches；　Queen　had　rested；　perhaps　slept。　　Then　laboring　with　dragging
steps；　not　improbably　with　a　lame　leg；　he　had　gone　on；　up　out　of　the
dark…green　ravine　to　the　open；　dry；　pine…tipped　ridge。　　Here　he　had
rested；　perhaps　waited　to　see　if　he　were　pursued。　　From　that　point　his
trail　spoke　an　easy　language　for　Jean's　keen　eye。　　The　gunman　knew　he
was　pursued。　　He　had　seen　his　enemy。　　Therefore　Jean　proceeded　with　a
slow　caution；　never　getting　within　revolver　range　of　ambush；　using　all
his　woodcraft　to　trail　this　man　and　yet　save　himself。　　Queen　traveled
slowly；　either　because　he　was　wounded　or　else　because　he　tried　to　ambush
his　pursuer；　and　Jean　accommodated　his　pace　to　that　of　Queen。　　From　noon
of　that　day　they　were　never　far　apart；　never　out　of　hearing　of　a　rifle　shot。

The　contrast　of　the　beauty　and　peace　and　loneliness　of　the　surroundings
to　the　nature　of　Queen's　flight　often　obtruded　its　strange　truth　into
the　somber　turbulence　of　Jean's　mind；　into　that　fixed　columnar　idea
around　which　fleeting　thoughts　hovered　and　gathered　like　shadows。

Early　frost　had　touched　the　heights　with　its　magic　wand。　　And　the　forest
seemed　a　temple　in　which　man　might　worship　nature　and　life　rather　than
steal　through　the　dells　and　under　the　arched　aisles　like　a　beast　of　prey。
The　green…and…gold　leaves　of　aspens　quivered　in　the　glades；　maples　in　the
ravines　fluttered　their　red…and…purple　leaves。　　The　needle…matted　carpet
under　the　pines　vied　with　the　long　lanes　of　silvery　grass；　alike　enticing
to　the　eye　of　man　and　beast。　　Sunny　rays　of　light；　flecked　with　dust　and
flying　insects；　slanted　down　from　the　overhanging　brown…limbed；
green…massed　foliage。　　Roar　of　wind　in　the　distant　forest　alternated　
with　soft　breeze　close　at　hand。　　Small　dove…gray　squirrels　ran　all　over
the　woodland；　very　curious　about　Jean　and　his　dog；　rustling　the　twigs；
scratching　the　bark　of　trees；　chattering　and　barking；　frisky；　saucy；
and　bright…eyed。　　A　plaintive　twitter　of　wild　canaries　came　from　the
region　above　the　treetopsfirst　voices　of　birds　in　their　pilgrimage
toward　the　south。　　Pine　cones　dropped　with　soft　thuds。　　The　blue　jays
followed　these　intruders　in　the　forest；　screeching　their　displeasure。
Like　rain　pattered　the　dropping　seeds　from　the　spruces。　　A　woody；
earthy；　leafy　fragrance；　damp　with　the　current　of　life；　mingled　with
a　cool；　dry；　sweet　smell　of　withered　grass　and　rotting　pines。

Solitude　and　lonesomeness；　peace　and　rest；　wild　life　and　nature；
reigned　there。　　It　was　a　golden…green　region；　enchanting　to　the　gaze
of　man。　　An　Indian　would　have　walked　there　with　his　spirits。

And　even　as　Jean　felt　all　this　elevating　beauty　and　inscrutable　spirit
his　keen　eye　once　more　fastened　upon　the　blood…red　drops　Queen　had
again　left　on　the　gray　moss　and　rock。　　His　wound　had　reopened。
Jean　felt　the　thrill　of　the　scenting　panther。

The　sun　set；　twilight　gathered；　night　fell。　　Jean　crawled　under　a　dense；
low…spreading　spruce；　ate　some　bread　and　meat；　fed　the　dog；　and　lay　down
to　rest　and　sleep。　　His　thoughts　burdened　him；　heavy　and　black　as　the
mantle　of　night。　　A　wolf　mourned　a　hungry　cry　for　a　mate。　　Shepp　quivered
under　Jean's　hand。　　That　was　the　call　which　had　lured　him　from　the　ranch。
The　wolf　blood　in　him　yearned　for　the　wild。　　Jean　tied　the　cowhide　leash
to　his　wrist。　　When　this　dark　business　was　at　an　end　Shepp　could　be　free
to　join　the　lonely　mate　mourning　out　there　in　the　forest。　　Then　Jean　slept。

Dawn　broke　cold；　clear；　frosty；　with　silvered　grass　sparkling；　with　a
soft；　faint　rustling　of　falling　aspen　leaves。　　When　the　sun　rose　red
Jean　was　again　on　the　trail　of　Queen。　　By　a　frosty…ferned　brook；　where
water　tinkled　and　ran　clear　as　air　and　cold　as　ice；　Jean　quenched　his　
thirst；　leaning　on　a　stone　that　showed　drops　of　blood。　　Queen；　too；
had　to　quench　hi