Part 36 (1/2)

”I know I've racketed some, but ain't it ruther early?” pursued McLean, wistfully.

”You six-foot infant!” said Barker. ”Look at your hand.”

Lin stared at it--the fingers quivering and b.l.o.o.d.y, and the skin grooved raw between them. That was the buckle of her belt, which in the struggle had worked round and been held by him unknowingly. Both his wrists and his s.h.i.+rt were ribbed with the pink of her sashes. He looked over at the bed where lay the woman heavily breathing. It was a something, a sound, not like the breath of life; and Barker saw the cow-puncher shudder.

”She is strong,” he said. ”Her system will fight to the end. Two hours yet, maybe. Queer world!” he moralized. ”People half killing themselves to keep one in it who wanted to go--and one that n.o.body wanted to stay!”

McLean did not hear. He was musing, his eyes fixed absently in front of him. ”I would not want,” he said, with hesitating utterance--”I'd not wish for even my enemy to have a thing like what I've had to do to-night.”

Barker touched him on the arm. ”If there had been another man I could trust--”

”Trust!” broke in the cow-puncher. ”Why, Doc, it is the best turn yu'

ever done me. I know I am a man now--if my nerve ain't gone.”

”I've known you were a man since I knew you!” said the hearty Governor.

And he helped the still unsteady six-foot to a chair. ”As for your nerve, I'll bring you some whiskey now. And after”--he glanced at the bed--”and tomorrow you'll go try if Miss Jessamine won't put the nerve--”

”Yes, Doc, I'll go there, I know. But don't yu'--don't let's while she's--I'm going to be glad about this, Doc, after awhile, but--”

At the sight of a new-comer in the door, he stopped in what his soul was stammering to say. ”What do you want, Judge?” he inquired, coldly.

”I understand,” began Slaghammer to Barker--”I am informed--”

”Speak quieter, Judge,” said the cow-puncher.

”I understand,” repeated Slaghammer, more official than ever, ”that there was a case for the coroner.”

”You'll be notified,” put in McLean again. ”Meanwhile you'll talk quiet in this room.”

Slaghammer turned, and saw the breathing ma.s.s on the bed.

”You are a little early, Judge,” said Barker, ”but--”

”But your ten dollars are safe,” said McLean.

The coroner shot one of his shrewd glances at the cow-puncher, and sat down with an amiable countenance. His fee was, indeed, ten dollars; and he was desirous of a second term.

”Under the apprehension that it had already occurred--the misapprehension--I took steps to impanel a jury,” said he, addressing both Barker and McLean. ”They are--ah--waiting outside. Responsible men, Governor, and have sat before. Drybone has few responsible men to-night, but I procured these at a little game where they were--ah--losing. You may go back, gentlemen,” said he, going to the door. ”I will summon you in proper time.” He looked in the room again. ”Is the husband not intending--”

”That's enough, Judge,” said McLean. ”There's too many here without adding him.”

”Judge,” spoke a voice at the door, ”ain't she ready yet?”

”She is still pa.s.sing away,” observed Slaghammer, piously.

”Because I was thinking,” said the man--”I was just--You see, us jury is dry and dead broke. Doggonedest cards I've held this year, and--Judge, would there be anything out of the way in me touching my fee in advance, if it's a sure thing?”

”I see none, my friend,” said Slaghammer, benevolently, ”since it must be.” He shook his head and nodded it by turns. Then, with full-blown importance, he sat again, and wrote a paper, his coroner's certificate.

Next door, in Albany County, these vouchers brought their face value of five dollars to the holder; but on Drybone's neutral soil the saloons would always pay four for them, and it was rare that any jury-man could withstand the temptation of four immediate dollars. This one gratefully received his paper, and, cheris.h.i.+ng it like a bird in the hand, he with his colleagues bore it where they might wait for duty and slake their thirst.

In the silent room sat Lin McLean, his body coming to life more readily than his shaken spirit. Barker, seeing that the cow-puncher meant to watch until the end, brought the whiskey to him. Slaghammer drew doc.u.ments from his pocket to fill the time, but was soon in slumber over them. In all precincts of the quadrangle Drybone was keeping it up late.