around you?"
"No," said Buck bluntly, "I don't know nothin' of the kind. What d'you mean?"
"I dunno," answered Barry, depressed. "It jest seems that way. Ain't you noticed how sort of close it is in a house? Hard to breathe? Like you had on a shirt too small for you."
"We'll stay out here, then."
The other nodded, smiled, and made a gesture to the dog behind him. Black Bart crouched on the ground, and Dan Barry sat down cross-legged, his shoulders leaning against the shaggy pelt of Bart. Daniels followed the example with less grace. He was thinking very hard and fast, and he rolled a Durham cigarette to fill the interlude.
"I s'pose you're bustin' to find out the news about the folks," he said dryly, at last.
The other sat with his hands loosely clasped in his lap. His wide eyes looked far away, and there was about his lips that looseness, that lack of compression, which one sees so often in children. He might have sat, in that posture, for the statue of thoughtlessness.
"What folks?" he asked at last.
Buck Daniels had lighted a match, but now he sat staring blank until the match burned down to his fingers. With an oath he tossed the remnant away and lighted another. He had drawn down several long breaths of smoke to the bottom of his lungs before he could speak again.
"Some people you used to know; I suppose you've forgotten all about 'em, eh?" His eyes narrowed; there was a spark of something akin to dread in them. "Kate Cumberland?" he queried.
A light came in the face of Dan Barry.
"Kate Cumberland?" he repeated. "How is she, Buck? Lately, I been thinkin' about her every day."
A trembling took the body and the voice of Daniels; his errand, after all, might meet some success.
"Kate?" he repeated. "Oh, ay, she's well enough. But Joe Cumberland ain't."
"No?"
"He's dyin', Dan."
And Dan replied calmly. "He's kind of old, I s'pose."
"Old?" said Buck, with a sort of horror. "Yes, he's old, right enough. D'you know why he's dying? It's because you went away the way you done, Dan. That's what's killin' him."
Something of thought came in the face of Barry.
"Maybe I understand," he said slowly. "If I was to lose Satan, or Bart—" here the great dog whined at the mention of his name, and Barry dropped a slender hand across the scarred forehead of his servant. "If I was to lose 'em, I'd sort of mourn for 'em, maybe."
Buck Daniels set his teeth.
"I don't suppose it seems possible," he said, "that a man could miss another man the way you could miss your—dog, eh? But it is! Joe Cumberland is dying for you, Dan, as sure as if you'd put a bullet in his bowels."
The other hesitated and then frowned and made a gesture of vague dismissal.
"Don't you figure on doin' nothing about it?" asked Buck softly.
"What could I do?"
"My God A'mighty, ain't you got no human feelin's?"
"I dunno what you mean," said the soft voice.
"This! Can't you git on your hoss and ride back with me to Cumberland Ranch? Stay with the old man till he gets back on his feet. Ain't that easy to do? Is your time so damned valuable you can't spare a few days for that?"
"But I am goin' back," answered Dan, in a rather hurt voice. "They ain't no need for cussin' me, Buck. I been thinkin' of Kate, every day, almost."
"Since when?"
"I dunno." Dan stirred uneasily. He looked up, and far above Buck, following the direction of Dan's eyes, saw a pattern of wild geese. "I been sort of driftin' North towards the Cumberland Ranch and Kate," went on Dan. He sighed: "I been thinkin' of her eyes, which is blue, Buck, and her hair, and the soft sound of her voice. They been hangin' in my ears, stayin' behind my eyes, lately, and I been driftin' up that way steady."
"Why, man," cried Buck, "then what's there to keep you here? Jump on your hoss, and we'll head North in ten minutes."
"I will!" said Dan, full as eagerly. "We'll start full speed."
"Come on, then."
"Wait a minute!" said Dan, his voice growing suddenly cold. "I been forgettin' something."
Buck Daniels turned and found his companion strangely changed. There was a set expression of coldness about his face, and a chill glitter in his eyes.
"I got to wait here for something."
"What's that?"
"They's a man in town that may want to see me."
"Mac Strann! I've heard about him. Dan, are you goin' to let Joe Cumberland die because you want to stay here and fight it out with a dirty cutthroat?"
"I don't want to fight," protested Barry. "No, there ain't nothin' I like less than fightin'!"
Buck Daniels cursed softly and continuously to himself.
"Dan," he said, "can you sit there and lie like that to me? Ain't I seen you in action? Don't I remember the way you trailed Jim Silent? Don't I remember how we all got down and prayed you to keep away from Jim? Don't I remember how you threw everything to hell so's you could get your hands on Jim? My God A'mighty, man, didn't I see your face when you had your fingers in Silent's throat?"
An expression of unutterable revulsion rippled over the face of Dan Barry.
"Stop!" he commanded softly, and raised his slender hand. "Don't keep on talkin' about it. It makes me sick—all through. Oh, Buck, they's a tingle in the tips of my fingers still from the time I had 'em in his throat. And it makes me feel unclean—the sort of uncleanness that won't wash out with no kind of soap and water. Buck, I'd most rather die myself than fight a man!"
A vast amazement overspread the countenance of Buck Daniels as he listened to this outburst; it was as if he had heard a healthy man proclaim that he had no desire for bread and meat. Something rose to his lips, but he swallowed it.
"Then it looks kind of simple to me," he said. "You hate fightin'. This gent Mac Strann likes it; he lives on it; he don't do nothing but wait from day to day hungerin' for a scrap. What's the out? Jest this! You hop on your hoss and ride out with me. Young Jerry Strann kicks out—Mac Strann starts lookin' for you—he hears that you've beat it—he goes off and forgets about you. Ain't that simple?"
The old uneasiness returned to the far-seeing eyes of Dan Barry.
"I dunno," he said, "maybe—"
Then he paused again.
"Have you got anything to say agin it?" urged Buck, arguing desperately.
"I dunno," repeated Barry, confused, "except that I keep thinking what a terrible disappointment it'll be to this Mac Strann when his brother dies and I ain't around."
