the man of the forest-第70节

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jerk　of　his　arm；　as　if　about　to　strike。　　But　that　action　was
read　for　its　true　meaning。　　Pell…mell　the　crowd　split　to　rush
each　way　and　leave　an　open　space　behind　the　three。

Las　Vegas　waited。　　But　Mulvey　seemed　obstructed。　　The　Mexican
looked　dangerous　through　his　fear。　　His　fingers　twitched　as
if　the　tendons　running　up　into　his　arms　were　being　pulled。

An　instant　of　suspense　　more　than　long　enough　for　Mulvey
to　be　tried　and　found　wanting　　and　Las　Vegas；　with　laugh
and　sneer；　turned　his　back　upon　the　pair　and　stepped　to　the
bar。　　His　call　for　a　bottle　made　Turner　jump　and　hold　it　out
with　shaking　hands。　　Las　Vegas　poured　out　a　drink；　while　his
gaze　was　intent　on　the　scarred　old　mirror　hanging　behind　the
bar。

This　turning　his　back　upon　men　he　had　just　dared　to　draw
showed　what　kind　of　a　school　Las　Vegas　had　been　trained　in。
If　those　men　had　been　worthy　antagonists　of　his　class　he
would　never　have　scorned　them。　　As　it　was；　when　Mulvey　and
the　Mexican　jerked　at　their　guns；　Las　Vegas　swiftly　wheeled
and　shot　twice。　　Mulvey's　gun　went　off　as　he　fell；　and　the
Mexican　doubled　up　in　a　heap　on　the　floor。　　Then　Las　Vegas
reached　around　with　his　left　hand　for　the　drink　he　had
poured　out。

At　this　juncture　Dale　burst　into　the　saloon；　suddenly　to
check　his　impetus；　to　swerve　aside　toward　the　bar　and　halt。
The　door　had　not　ceased　swinging　when　again　it　was　propelled
inward；　this　time　to　admit　Helen　Rayner；　white　and
wide…eyed。

In　another　moment　then　Las　Vegas　had　spoken　his　deadly　toast
to　Beasley's　gang　and　had　fiercely　flung　the　glass　at　the
writhing　Mexican　on　the　floor。　　Also　Dale　had　gravitated
toward　the　reeling　Helen　to　catch　her　when　she　fainted。

Las　Vegas　began　to　curse；　and；　striding　to　Dale；　he　pushed
him　out　of　the　saloon。

〃！　　What　're　you　doin'　heah？〃　he　yelled；　stridently。
〃Hevn't　you　got　thet　girl　to　think　of？　　Then　do　it；　you　big
Indian！　　Lettin'　her　run　after　you　heah　　riskin'　herself
thet　way！　　You　take　care　of　her　an'　Bo　an'　leave　this　deal　to
me！〃

The　cowboy；　furious　as　he　was　at　Dale；　yet　had　keen；　swift
eyes　for　the　horses　near　at　hand；　and　the　men　out　in　the　dim
light。　　Dale　lifted　the　girl　into　his　arms；　and；　turning
without　a　word；　stalked　away　to　disappear　in　the　darkness。
Las　Vegas；　holding　his　gun　low；　returned　to　the　bar…room。　　If
there　had　been　any　change　in　the　crowd　it　was　slight。　　The
tension　had　relaxed。　　Turner　no　longer　stood　with　hands　up。

〃You…all　go　on　with　your　fun；〃　called　the　cowboy；　with　a
sweep　of　his　gun。　　〃But　it'd　be　risky　fer　any　one　to　start
leavin'。〃

With　that　he　backed　against　the　bar；　near　where　the　black
bottle　stood。　　Turner　walked　out　to　begin　righting　tables　and
chairs；　and　presently　the　crowd；　with　some　caution　and
suspense；　resumed　their　games　and　drinking。　　It　was
significant　that　a　wide　berth　lay　between　them　and　the　door。
From　time　to　time　Turner　served　liquor　to　men　who　called　for
it。

Las　Vegas　leaned　with　back　against　the　bar。　　After　a　while　he
sheathed　his　gun　and　reached　around　for　the　bottle。　　He　drank
with　his　piercing　eyes　upon　the　door。　　No　one　entered　and　no
one　went　out。　　The　games　of　chance　there　and　the　drinking
were　not　enjoyed。　　It　was　a　hard　scene　　that　smoky；　long；
ill…smelling　room；　with　its　dim；　yellow　lights；　and　dark；
evil　faces；　with　the　stealthy…stepping　Turner　passing　to　and
fro；　and　the　dead　Mulvey　staring　in　horrible　fixidity　at　the
ceiling；　and　the　Mexican　quivering　more　and　more　until　he
shook　violently；　then　lay　still；　and　with　the　drinking；
somber；　waiting　cowboy；　more　fiery　and　more　flaming　with
every　drink；　listening　for　a　step　that　did　not　come。

Time　passed；　and　what　little　change　it　wrought　was　in　the
cowboy。　　Drink　affected　him；　but　he　did　not　become　drunk。　　It
seemed　that　the　liquor　he　drank　was　consumed　by　a　mounting
fire。　　It　was　fuel　to　a　driving　passion。　　He　grew　more　sullen；
somber；　brooding；　redder　of　eye　and　face；　more　crouching　and
restless。　　At　last；　when　the　hour　was　so　late　that　there　was
no　probability　of　Beasley　appearing；　Las　Vegas　flung　himself
out　of　the　saloon。

All　lights　of　the　village　had　now　been　extinguished。　　The
tired　horses　drooped　in　the　darkness。　　Las　Vegas　found　his
horse　and　led　him　away　down　the　road　and　out　a　lane　to　a
field　where　a　barn　stood　dim　and　dark　in　the　starlight。
Morning　was　not　far　off。　　He　unsaddled　the　horse　and；　turning
him　loose；　went　into　the　barn。　　Here　he　seemed　familiar　with
his　surroundings；　for　he　found　a　ladder　and　climbed　to　a
loft；　where　be　threw　himself　on　the　hay。

He　rested；　but　did　not　sleep。　　At　daylight　he　went　down　and
brought　his　horse　into　the　barn。　　Sunrise　found　Las　Vegas
pacing　to　and　fro　the　short　length　of　the　interior；　and
peering　out　through　wide　cracks　between　the　boards。　　Then
during　the　succeeding　couple　of　hours　he　watched　the
occasional　horseman　and　wagon　and　herder　that　passed　on　into
the　village。

About　the　breakfast　hour　Las　Vegas　saddled　his　horse　and
rode　back　the　way　he　had　come　the　night　before。　　At　Turner's
he　called　for　something　to　eat　as　well　as　for　whisky。　　After
that　he　became　a　listening；　watching　machine。　　He　drank
freely　for　an　hour；　then　he　stopped。　　He　seemed　to　be　drunk；
but　with　a　different　kind　of　drunkenness　from　that　usual　in
drinking　men。　　Savage；　fierce；　sullen；　he　was　one　to　avoid。
Turner　waited　on　him　in　evident　fear。

At　length　Las　Vegas's　condition　became　such　that　action　was
involuntary。　　He　could　not　stand　still　nor　sit　down。　　Stalking
out；　he　passed　the　store；　where　men　slouched　back　to　avoid
him；　and　he　went　down　the　road；　wary　and　alert；　as　if　he
expected　a　rifle…shot　from　some　hidden　enemy。　　Upon　his
return　down　that　main　thoroughfare　of　the　village　not　a
person　was　to　be　seen。　　He　went　in　to　Turner's。　　The
proprietor　was　there　at　his　post；　nervous　and　pale。　　Las
Vegas　did　not　order　any　more　liquor。

〃Turner；　I　reckon　I'll　bore　you　next　time　I　run　in　heah；〃　he
said；　and　stalked　out。

He　had　the　stores；　the　road；　the　village；　to　himself；　and　he
patrolled　a　beat　like　a　sentry　watching　for　an　Indian
attack。

Toward　noon　a　single　man　ventured　out　into　the　road　to
accost　the　cowboy。

〃Las　Vegas；　I'm　tellin'　you　　all　the　greasers　air　leavin'
the　range；〃　he　said。

〃Howdy；　Abe！〃　replied　Las　Vegas。　　〃What　'n　hell　you　talkin'
about？〃

The　man　repeated　his　information。　　And　Las　Vegas　spat　out
frightful　curses。

〃Abe　　you　heah　what　Beasley's　doin'？〃

〃Yes。　　He's　with　his　men　　up　at　the　ranch。　　Reckon　he　can't
put　off　ridin'　down　much　longer。〃

That　was　where　the　West　spoke。　　Beasley　would　be　forced　to
meet　the　enemy　who　had　come　out　single…handed　against　him。
Long　before　this　hour　a　braver　man　would　have　come　to　face
Las　Vegas。　　Beasley　could　not　hire　any　gang　to　bear　the　brunt
of　this　situation。　　This　was　the　test　by　which　even　his　own
men　must　judge　him。　　All　of　which　was　to　say　that　as　the
wildness　of　the　West　had　made　possible　his　crimes；　so　it　now
held　him　responsible　for　them。

〃Abe；　if　thet　　greaser　don't　rustle　down　heah　I'm　goin'
after　him。〃

〃Sure。　　But　don't　be　in　no　hurry；〃　replied　Abe。

〃I'm　waltzin'　to　slow　music。　。　。　。　　Gimme　a　smoke。〃

With　fingers　that　slightly　trembled　Abe　rolled　a　cigarette；
lit　it　from　his　own；　and　handed　it　to　the　cowboy。

〃Las　Vegas；　I　reckon　I　hear　hosses；〃　he　said；　suddenly。

〃Me；　too；〃　replied　Las　Vegas；　with　his　head　high　like　that
of　a　listening　deer。　　Apparently　he　forgot　the　cigarette　and
also　his　friend。　　Abe　hurried　back　to　the　store；　where　he
disappeared。

Las　Vegas　began　his　stalking　up　and　down；　and　his　action　now
was　an　exaggeration　of　all　his　former　movements。　　A　rational；
ordinary　mortal　from　some　Eastern　community；　happening　to
meet　this　red…faced　cowboy；　would　have　considered　him　drunk
or　crazy。　　Probably　Las　Vegas　looked　both。　　But　all　the　same
he　was　a　marvelously　keen　and　strung　and　efficient
instrument　to　meet　the　portending　issue。　　How　many　thousands
of　times；　on　the　trails；　and　in　the　wide…streeted　little
towns　all　over　the　West；　had　this　stalk　of　the　cowboy's　been
perpetrated！　　Violent；　bloody；　tragic　as　it　was；　it　had　an
importance　in　that　pioneer　day　equal　to　the　use　of　a　horse
or　the　need　of　a　plow。

At　length　Pine　was　apparently　a　deserted　village；　except　for
Las　Vegas；　who　patrolled　his　long　beat　in　many　ways　　he
lounged　while　he　watched；　he　stalked　like　a　mountaineer；　he
stole　along　Indian　fashion；　stealthily；　from　tree　to　tree；
from　corner　to　corner；　he　disappeared　in　the　saloon　to
reappear　at　the　back；　he　slipped　round　behind　the　barns　to
come　out　again　in　the　main　road；　and　time　after　time　he
approached　his　horse　as　if　deciding　to　mount。

The　last　visit　he　made　into　Turner's　saloon　he　found　no　one
there。　　Savagely　he　pounded　on　the　bar　with　his　gun。　　He　got
no　response。　　Then　the　long…pent…up　rage　burst。　　With　wild
whoops　he　pulled　another　gun　and　shot　at　the　mirror；　the
lamps。　　He　shot　the　neck　off　a　bottle　and　drank　till　be
choked；　his　neck　corded；　bulging；　and　purple。　　His　only　slow
and　deliberate　action　was　the　reloading　of　his　gun。　　Then　he
crashed　through　the　doors；　and　with　a　wild　yell　leaped　sheer
into　the　saddle；　hauling　his　horse　up　high　and　goading　him
to　plunge　away。