to the last man-第30部分

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the　gently　rising　slope　before　him。　　He　could　see　the　dark　patches　of
cedar　and　juniper　trees。　　On　the　north　side　of　the　cabin　a　streak　of　
fire　flashed　in　the　blackness；　and　a　shot　rang　out。　　Jean　heard　the
bullet　bit　the　cabin。　　Then　silence　enfolded　the　lonely　ranch　and　the
darkness　lay　like　a　black　blanket。　　A　low　hum　of　insects　pervaded　the
air。　　Dull　sheets　of　lightning　illumined　the　dark　horizon　to　the　south。
Once　Jean　heard　voices；　but　could　not　tell　from　which　direction　they
came。　　To　the　west　of　him　then　flared　out　another　rifle　shot。　　The
bullet　whistled　down　over　Jean　to　thud　into　the　cabin。

Jean　made　a　careful　study　of　the　obscure；　gray…black　open　before　him
and　then　the　background　to　his　rear。　　So　long　as　he　kept　the　dense
shadows　behind　him　he　could　not　be　seen。　　He　slipped　from　behind　his
covert　and；　gliding　with　absolutely　noiseless　footsteps；　he　gained　the
first　clump　of　junipers。　　Here　he　waited　patiently　and　motionlessly　for
another　round　of　shots　from　the　rustlers。　　After　the　second　shot　from
the　west　side　Jean　sheered　off　to　the　right。　　Patches　of　brush；　clumps
of　juniper；　and　isolated　cedars　covered　this　slope；　affording　Jean　a
perfect　means　for　his　purpose；　which　was　to　make　a　detour　and　come　up
behind　the　rustler　who　was　firing　from　that　side。　　Jean　climbed　to　the
top　of　the　ridge；　descended　the　opposite　slope；　made　his　turn　to　the
left；　and　slowly　worked。　up　behind　the　point　near　where　he　expected　to
locate　the　rustler。　　Long　habit　in　the　open；　by　day　and　night；　rendered
his　sense　of　direction　almost　as　perfect　as　sight　itself。　　The　first
flash　of　fire　he　saw　from　this　side　proved　that　he　had　come　straight
up　toward　his　man。　　Jean's　intention　was　to　crawl　up　on　this　one　of
the　Jorth　gang　and　silently　kill　him　with　a　knife。　　If　the　plan　worked　
successfully；　Jean　meant　to　work　round　to　the　next　rustler。　　Laying
aside　his　rifle；　he　crawled　forward　on　hands　and　knees；　making　no
more　sound　than　a　cat。　　His　approach　was　slow。　　He　had　to　pick　his
way；　be　careful　not　to　break　twigs　nor　rattle　stones。　　His　buckskin
garments　made　no　sound　against　the　brush。　　Jean　located　the　rustler
sitting　on　the　top　of　the　ridge　in　the　center　of　an　open　space。
He　was　alone。　　Jean　saw　the　dull…red　end　of　the　cigarette　he　was
smoking。　　The　ground　on　the　ridge　top　was　rocky　and　not　well　adapted
for　Jean's　purpose。　　He　had　to　abandon　the　idea　of　crawling　up　on　the
rustler。　　Whereupon；　Jean　turned　back；　patiently　and　slowly；　to　get
his　rifle。

Upon　securing　it　he　began　to　retrace　his　course；　this　time　more　slowly
than　before；　as　he　was　hampered　by　the　rifle。　　But　he　did　not　make　the
slightest　sound；　and　at　length　he　reached　the　edge　of　the　open　ridge
top；　once　more　to　espy　the　dark　form　of　the　rustler　silhouetted　against
the　sky。　　The　distance　was　not　more　than　fifty　yards。

As　Jean　rose　to　his　knee　and　carefully　lifted　his　rifle　round　to　avoid
the　twigs　of　a　juniper　he　suddenly　experienced　another　emotion　besides
the　one　of　grim；　hard　wrath　at　the　Jorths。　　It　was　an　emotion　that
sickened　him；　made　him　weak　internally；　a　cold；　shaking；　ungovernable
sensation。　　Suppose　this　man　was　Ellen　Jorth's　father！　　Jean　lowered
the　rifle。　　He　felt　it　shake　over　his　knee。　　He　was　trembling　all　over。
The　astounding　discovery　that　he　did　not　want　to　kill　Ellen's　father
that　he　could　not　do　itawakened　Jean　to　the　despairing　nature　of　his
love　for　her。　　In　this　grim　moment　of　indecision；　when　he　knew　his
Indian　subtlety　and　ability　gave　him　a　great　advantage　over　the　Jorths；
he　fully　realized　his　strange；　hopeless；　and　irresistible　love　for　the
girl。　　He　made　no　attempt　to　deny　it　any　longer。　　Like　the　night　and
the　lonely　wilderness　around　him；　like　the　inevitableness　of　this
Jorth…Isbel　feud；　this　love　of　his　was　a　thing；　a　fact；　a　reality。
He　breathed　to　his　own　inward　ear；　to　his　soulhe　could　not　kill
Ellen　Jorth's　father。　　Feud　or　no　feud；　Isbel　or　not；　he　could　not
deliberately　do　it。　　And　why　not？　　There　was　no　answer。　　Was　he　not
faithless　to　his　father？　　He　had　no　hope　of　ever　winning　Ellen　Jorth。
He　did　not　want　the　love　of　a　girl　of　her　character。　　But　he　loved　her。
And　his　struggle　must　be　against　the　insidious　and　mysterious　growth
of　that　passion。　　It　swayed　him　already。　　It　made　him　a　coward。
Through　his　mind　and　heart　swept　the　memory　of　Ellen　Jorth；　her　beauty
and　charm；　her　boldness　and　pathos；　her　shame　and　her　degradation。
And　the　sweetness　of　her　outweighed　the　boldness。　　And　the　mystery　of
her　arrayed　itself　in　unquenchable　protest　against　her　acknowledged
shame。　　Jean　lifted　his　face　to　the　heavens；　to　the　pitiless　white
stars；　to　the　infinite　depths　of　the　dark…blue　sky。　　He　could　sense
the　fact　of　his　being　an　atom　in　the　universe　of　nature。　　What　was　he；
what　was　his　revengeful　father；　what　were　hate　and　passion　and　strife
in　comparison　to　the　nameless　something；　immense　and　everlasting；　that
he　sensed　in　this　dark　moment？

But　the　rustlersDaggsthe　Jorthsthey　had　killed　his　brother　Guy
murdered　him　brutally　and　ruthlessly。　　Guy　had　been　a　playmate　of　Jean's
a　favorite　brother。　　Bill　had　been　secretive　and　selfish。　　Jean　had
never　loved　him　as　he　did　Guy。　　Guy　lay　dead　down　there　on　the　meadow。
This　feud　had　begun　to　run　its　bloody　course。　　Jean　steeled　his　nerve。
The　hot　blood　crept　back　along　his　veins。　　The　dark　and　masterful　tide
of　revenge　waved　over　him。　　The　keen　edge　of　his　mind　then　cut　out　sharp
and　trenchant　thoughts。　　He　must　kill　when　and　where　he　could。　　This　man
could　hardly　be　Ellen　Jorth's　father。　　Jorth　would　be　with　the　main
crowd；　directing　hostilities。　　Jean　could　shoot　this　rustler　guard
and　his　shot　would　be　taken　by　the　gang　as　the　regular　one　from　their
comrade。　　Then　swiftly　Jean　leveled　his　rifle；　covered　the　dark　form；
grew　cold　and　set；　and　pressed　the　trigger。　　After　the　report　he　rose
and　wheeled　away。　　He　did　not　look　nor　listen　for　the　result　of　his
shot。　　A　clammy　sweat　wet　his　face；　the　hollow　of　his　hands；　his　breast。
A　horrible；　leaden；　thick　sensation　oppressed　his　heart。　　Nature　had
endowed　him　with　Indian　gifts；　but　the　exercise　of　them　to　this　end
caused　a　revolt　in　his　soul。

Nevertheless；　it　was　the　Isbel　blood　that　dominated　him。　　The　wind　blew
cool　on　his　face。　　The　burden　upon　his　shoulders　seemed　to　lift。　　The
clamoring　whispers　grew　fainter　in　his　ears。　　And　by　the　time　he　had
retraced　his　cautious　steps　back　to　the　orchard　all　his　physical　being
was　strung　to　the　task　at　hand。　　Something　had　come　between　his
reflective　self　and　this　man　of　action。

Crossing　the　lane；　he　took　to　the　west　line　of　sheds；　and　passed　beyond
them　into　the　meadow。　　In　the　grass　he　crawled　silently　away　to　the
right；　using　the　same　precaution　that　had　actuated　him　on　the　slope；
only　here　he　did　not　pause　so　often；　nor　move　so　slowly。　　Jean　aimed
to　go　far　enough　to　the　right　to　pass　the　end　of　the　embankment　behind
which　the　rustlers　had　found　such　efficient　cover。　　This　ditch　had
been　made　to　keep　water；　during　spring　thaws　and　summer　storms；　from
pouring　off　the　slope　to　flood　the　corrals。

Jean　miscalculated　and　found　he　had　come　upon　the　embankment　somewhat
to　the　left　of　the　end；　which　fact；　however；　caused　him　no　uneasiness。
He　lay　there　awhile　to　listen。　　Again　he　heard　voices。　　After　a　time
a　shot　pealed　out。　　He　did　not　see　the　flash；　but　he　calculated　that
it　had　come　from　the　north　side　of　the　cabins。

The　next　quarter　of　an　hour　discovered　to　Jean　that　the　nearest　guard
was　firing　from　the　top　of　the　embankment；　perhaps　a　hundred　yards
distant；　and　a　second　one　was　performing　the　same　office　from　a　point
apparently　only　a　few　yards　farther　on。　　Two　rustlers　close　together！
Jean　had　not　calculated　upon　that。　　For　a　little　while　he　pondered　on
what　was　best　to　do；　and　at　length　decided　to　crawl　round　behind　them；
and　as　close　as　the　situation　made　advisable。

He　found　the　ditch　behind　the　embankment　a　favorable　path　by　which　to
stalk　these　enemies。　　It　was　dry　and　sandy；　with　borders　of　high　weeds。
The　only　drawback　was　that　it　was　almost　impossible　for　him　to　keep
from　brushing　against　the　dry；　invisible　branches　of　the　weeds。　　To
offset　this　he　wormed　his　way　like　a　snail；　inch　by　inch；　taking　a
long　time　before　he　caught　sight　of　the　sitting　figure　of　a　man；　black
against　the　dark…blue　sky。　　This　rustler　had　fired　his　rifle　three
times　during　Jean's　slow　approach。　　Jean　watched　and　listened　a　few
moments；　then　wormed　himself　closer　and　closer；　until　the　man　was
within　twenty　steps　of　him。

Jean　smelled　tobacco　smoke；　but　could　see　no　light　of　pipe　or　cigarette；
because　the　fellow's　back　was　turned。

〃Say；　Ben；〃　said　this　man　to　his　companion　sitting　hunched　up　a　few
yards　distant；　〃shore　it　strikes　me　queer　thet　Somers　ain't　shootin'
any　over　thar。〃

Jean　recognized　the　dry；　drawling　voice　of　Greaves；　and　the　shock　of
it　seemed　to　contract　the　muscles　of　his　whole　thrilling　body；　like
that　of　a　panther　about　to　spring。



CHAPTER　VIII

Was　shore　thinkin'　thet　same；〃　said　the　other　man。　　〃An'；　say；　didn't
thet　last　shot　sound　too　sharp　fer　Somers's　forty…five？〃

〃Come　to　think　of　it；　I　reckon　it　did；〃　replied　Greaves。

〃Wal；　I'll　go　around　over　thar　an'　see。〃

The　dark　form　of　the　rustler　slipped　out　of　sight　over　the　embankment。

〃Better　go　slow　an'　careful；〃　warned　Greaves。　　〃An'　only　go　close
enough　to　call　Somers。　。　。　。　Mebbe　thet　damn　half…breed　Isbel　is
comin'　some　Injun　on　us。〃

Jean　heard　the　soft　swish　of　footsteps　through　wet　grass。　　Then　all
was　still。　　He　lay　flat；　with　his　cheek　on　the　sand；　and　he　had　to
look　ahead　and　upward　to　make　out　the　dark　figure　of　Greaves　on　the
bank。　　One　way　or　another　he　meant　to　kill　Greaves；　and　he　had　the
will　power　to　resist　the　strongest　gust　of　passion　that　had　ever
stormed　his　breast。　　If　he　arose　and　shot　the　rustler；　that　act　would
defeat　his　plan　of　slipping　on　around　upon　the　other　outposts　who　were
firing　at　the　cabins。　　Jean　wanted　to　call　softly　to　Greaves；　〃You're
right　about　the　half…breed！〃　and　then；　as　he　wheeled　aghast；　to　kill　him
as　he　moved。　　But　it　suited　Jean　to　risk　leaping　upon　the　man。　　Jean　did
not　waste　time　in　trying　to　understand　the　strange；　deadly　instinc