shuddered.
"Do you mean that if he sleeps it will be—death?"
"I have told you before," said the doctor, "that there are phases of this case which I do not understand. I predict nothing with certainty. But I very much fear that if your father falls into a complete slumber he will never waken from it. Once let his brain cease functioning and I fear that the heart will follow suit."
They stood on the farther side of the room and spoke in the softest of whispers, but now the deep, calm voice of the old man broke in: "Doc, they ain't no use of worryin'. They ain't no use of medicine. All I need is quiet."
"Do you want to be alone?" asked the girl.
"No, not so long as you don't make no noise. I can 'most hear something, but your whisperin' shuts it off."
They obeyed him, with a glance at each other. And soon they caught the far off beat of a horse in a rapid gallop.
"Is it that?" cried Kate, leaning forward and touching her father's hand. "Is that horse what you hear?"
"No, no!" he answered impatiently. "That ain't what I hear. It ain't no hoss that I hear!"
The hoof-beats grew louder—stopped before the house—steps sounded loud and rattling on the veranda—a door squeaked and slammed—and Buck Daniels stood before them. His hat was jammed down so far that his eyes were almost buried in the shadow of the brim; the bandana at his throat was twisted so that the knot lay over his right shoulder; he carried a heavy quirt in a hand that trembled so that the long lash seemed alive; a thousand bits of foam had dried upon his vest and stained it; the rowels of his spurs were caked and enmeshed with horsehair; dust covered his face and sweat furrowed it, and a keen scent of horse-sweat passed from him through the room. For a moment he stood at the door, bracing himself with legs spread wide apart, and stared wildly about—then he reeled drunkenly across the room and fell into a chair, sprawling at full length.
No one else moved. Joe Cumberland had turned his head; Kate stood with her hand at her throat; the doctor had placed his hand behind his head, and there it stayed.
"Gimme smoke—quick!" said Buck Daniels. "Run out of Durham a thousan' years ago!"
Kate ran into the next room and returned instantly with papers and a fresh sack of tobacco. On these materials Buck seized frantically, but his big fingers were shaking in a palsy, and the papers tore, one after another, as soon as he started to roll his smoke. "God!" he cried, in a burst of childish desperation, and collapsed again in the chair.
But Kate Cumberland picked up the papers and tobacco which he had dashed to the floor and rolled a cigarette with deft fingers. She placed it between his lips and held the match by which he lighted it. Once, twice, and again, he drew great breaths of smoke into his lungs, and then he could open his eyes and look at them. They were not easy eyes to meet.
"You're hungry, Buck," she said. "I can see it at a glance. I'll have something for you in an instant."
He stopped her with a gesture.
"I done it!" said Buck Daniels. "He's comin'!"
The doctor flashed his glance upon Kate Cumberland, for when she heard the words she turned pale and her eyes and her lips framed a mute question; but Joe Cumberland drew in a long breath and smiled.
"I knowed it!" he said softly.
The wind whistled somewhere in the house and it brought Buck Daniels leaping to his feet and into the centre of the room.
"He's here!" he yelled. "God help me, where'll I go now! He's here!"
He had drawn his revolver and stood staring desperately about him as if he sought for a refuge in the solid wall. Almost instantly he recovered himself, however, and dropped the gun back into the holster.
"No, not yet," he said, more to himself than the others. "It ain't possible, even for Dan."
Kate Cumberland rallied herself, though her face was still white. She stepped to Buck and took both his hands.
"You've been working yourself to death," she said gently. "Buck, you're hysterical. What have you to fear from Dan? Isn't he your friend? Hasn't he proved it a thousand times?"
Her words threw him into a fresh frenzy.
"If he gets me, it's blood on your head, Kate. It was for you I done it."
"No, no, Buck. For Dan's sake alone. Isn't that enough?"
"For his sake?" Buck threw back his head and laughed—a crazy laughter. "He could rot in hell for all of me. He could foller his wild geese around the world. Kate, it was for you!"
"Hush!" she pleaded. "Buck, dear!"
"Do I care who knows it? Not I! I got an hour—half an hour to live; and while I live the whole damned world can know I love you, Kate, from your spurs to the blue of your eyes. For your sake I brung him, and for your sake I'll fight him, damn him, in spite—"
The wind wailed again, far off, and Buck Daniels cowered back against the wall. He had drawn Kate with him, and he now kept her before him, towards the door.
He began to whisper, swiftly, with a horrible tremble in his voice: "Stand between me, Kate. Stand between me and him. Talk for me, Kate. Will you talk for me?" He drew himself up and caught a long, shuddering breath. "What have I been doin'? What have I been ravin' about?"
He looked about as if he saw the others for the first time.
"Sit here, Buck," said Kate, with perfect quiet. "Give me your hat. There's nothing to fear. Now tell us."
"A whole day and a whole night," he said, "I been riding with the fear of him behind me. Kate, I ain't myself, and if I been sayin' things—"
"No matter. Only tell me how you made him follow you."
Buck Daniels swept his knuckles across his forehead, as though to rub out a horrible memory.
"Kate," he said in a voice which was hardly more than a whisper, "why did he follow Jim Silent?"
The doctor slipped into a chair opposite Buck Daniels and watched him with unbelieving eyes. When he had last seen Buck the man had seemed an army in himself; but now a shivering, unmanned coward sat before him. Byrne glanced at Kate Cumberland for explanation of the mysterious change. She, also, was transformed with horror, and she stared at Buck Daniels as at one already among the dead.
"Buck, you didn't—strike him?"
Buck Daniels nodded jerkily.
"I'll try to tell you straight from the beginning. I found Dan in Brownsville. I begged him to come back with me, but he wouldn't stir. This was why: A gunman had come to the town lookin' for trouble, and when he run acrost Dan he found plenty of it. No, don't look like that, Kate; it was self-defense, pure and simple—they didn't even arrest Dan for it. But this dyin' man's brother, Mac Strann, come down from the hills and sat beside Jerry Strann waitin' for him to go west before he started out to clean up on Dan. Yesterday evenin' Jerry was near dead and everybody in Brownsville was waitin' to see what would happen, because Dan wouldn't budge till Mac Strann had had his chance to get back at him. So I sent a feller ahead to fix a relay of hosses to Elkhead, because I
