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Updated: May 11, 2025
Seems like they's a pile of strength runnin' into me from the tips of your fingers, my frien'. And I was some fool to start that fight with you, Barry." "Jest forget all that," murmured the other. "And keep your voice down. I've forgot it; you forget it. It ain't never happened." "What's it mean?" frowned Mac Strann, whispering to Haw-Haw. The eyes of the latter glittered like beads.
It thudded heavily, but it brought no yelp of pain; instead, a black thunderbolt leaped from the corner and lunged down the room. It was the silence of the attack that made it terrible, and Strann cursed and pulled his gun. He could never have used it. He was a whole half second too late, but before the dog sprang a voice cut in: "Bart!"
"D'you think," asked Haw-Haw Langley, pressing his reeking horse a little closer to Mac Strann, "that he'll come out after us in a rain like this?" But simple-minded Mac Strann lifted his head and peered through the thick curtains of rain. "D'you think," he parried, "that Jerry could maybe look through all this and see what I'm doin' to-day?"
It was not yet full dusk, for the shadows were still swinging out from the mountains and a ghost of colour lingered in the west, but midnight lay in the open eyes of Jerry Strann. There had been no struggle, no outcry, no lifting of head or hand. One instant his eyes were closed, and then, indeed, he looked like death; the next instant the eyes open, he smiled, the wind stirred in his bright hair.
Barry slipped from the stallion's back with the wounded dog, and kneeled above the limp figure. "It ain't the end," growled Mac Strann, "that hoss will go runnin' back into the fire. It ain't hoss nature to keep from goin' mad at the sight of a fire!"
"He ain't had time," answered the giant. "Ain't had time? All these days?" "Wait till the dog gets well. He'll follow the dog to Elkhead." "Why, Mac, the trail's been washed out long ago. That wind the other day would of knocked out any trail less'n a big waggon." "It won't wash out the trail for that dog," said Mac Strann calmly.
"Would you want me to get him, Jerry?" asked Mac Strann. And he waited for an answer. "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.
Not far hardly the breadth of the street before he pitched up in a long leap as if to clear a barrier, landed stiff-legged with a sickening jar, whirled again like a spinning top, and darted straight back. And Jerry Strann pulled leather with might and main but the short stirrups were against him, and above all the suddenness of the start had taken him off guard for all his readiness.
You ain't going in there by yourself, Mac?" "Haw-Haw," explained the big man quietly, "I ain't going after Barry. I'm going to make him come after me." Haw-Haw considered this explanation for a dazed moment. It was far too mysterious for his comprehension. "What you goin' to do?" he asked again. "Would you know that black hoss agin if you seen him?" asked Mac Strann. "In a thousand."
Mac, Barry ain't a safe man to foller!" "Haw-Haw," answered Mac Strann, "Will you gimme a hand saddlin' my hoss? I got an appointment, an' I'm two minutes late already." In the room which had been assigned to his use Doctor Randall Byrne sat down to an unfinished letter and began to write. "Dinner has interrupted me, my dear Loughburne.
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