Part 29 (2/2)
We told him it was, an' he whistled three times. You could 'a' knocked me down with a feather when Kit Murray an' the Friar came ridin' up; an' then we turned the ponies loose an' went into the house. It only had two rooms, countin' the lean-to kitchen, an' we made consid'able of a crowd; but we were all in good spirits, on account of Olaf gettin' the girl an' us bein' able to hand him back his stuff with not one head missin'.
It had been some interval since I'd seen Kit Murray, an' I was surprised to view the change in her. She didn't look so much older, but all the recklessness had gone out of her face, an' it had a sort of a quiet, holy look about it. ”Kit,” I sez, ”I wish ya all the joy the' is; but I'd 'a' been willin' to have bet my eyes 'at you'd never take Olaf. I was glad to see him go up after ya, 'cause gettin'
knocked on the head is some better 'n bein' kept hangin' on a hook; but you sure got your nerve with ya. This homestead is purty likely to get in some other folks' way.”
Kit had as snappy a pair o' black eyes as was ever stuck in a face; and now they flashed out full power. ”I know it's goin' to be hard to hold this place,” sez she, ”but I reckon I can help a little. I can ride an' shoot as well as a man, if I have to, and you know it. I don't want anything but the quietest sort of a life the' is; but I'm ready to stand for any sort o' luck 'at comes along. As for Olaf, he's the only man in the world for me. I saw something o' the big cities back east, an' Billings, an' the boys on the range here, and out of 'em all, Olaf's my man. The thing I hope more 'n anything else is, that we can die together.”
Her voice caused a hush to come to the room. I had meant to be jovial an' hearty; but the' was an undercurrent of earnestness in her voice which put a tingle into a feller. Kit Murray had changed a heap, but all for the better.
Olaf cleared his throat, an' we all took a look at him. He had changed, too. He had lost the chained-bear look he generally wore, an'
the' was a light o' pride an' satisfaction in his face which was good to look upon. ”Boys,” he said, ”I've been purty tough an' unsociable, an' I don't see why you've took so much trouble for me; but I tell ya right here that I stand ready to square it in any way or at any time I can. Now, it seems mighty funny 'at Kit Murray should love me, an' I can't account for it any more 'n you can; but I knew right from the start that she did love me-I could tell by the light. If ever the time comes that she don't love me any more, I get out of her way, that's all about that; but I'm not goin' to make her stay here any longer 'n I have to. I sell out when I get the first chance. Friar Tuck, he softened my heart, an' he watched over her. He's a man.
That's all I can say.”
Well, this was an all-around n.o.ble speech for a stone image like Olaf had been, an' we cheered him to the echo; but Horace had sort o' been jostled to the outside an' forgot. Now, he come forward an' shook Olaf by the hand an' congratulated him, an' sez: ”The's one thing I'd like mightily to know, an' that is-what the deuce do you mean by this light you're allus alludin' to?”
Olaf was some embarra.s.sed; but it never seemed to fuss Horace any when he had turned all the fur the' was in sight the wrong way; so he just waited patiently while Olaf spluttered about it.
”I don't know myself,” sez Olaf. ”Always, since I was a little child, I have seen a floating light about people. I thought every one saw this light an' I spoke of it when I was a child an' asked my mother about it many times; but at first she thought I lie, an' then she thought my head was wrong; so I stopped talkin' about it; but always I see it an' it changes with the feelings and with the health. All the colors and shades I cannot read, but some I know. I knew that Kit Murray loved me before she knew it, and I knew that the Friar was a true man when they told me tales of him. Animals, too, have this floatin' light about 'em, an' I can tell when they are frightened an'
when they are mean. This is why I handle hosses without trouble. Now I do not know why my eyes are this way; but I have told you because you have been good friends to me. I do not want you to tell of this because it makes people think I am crazy.”
”Course it does,” sez Horace. ”It made me think you were crazy. I never heard of anything like this before. Tell me some more about it.”
”There is no more to tell,” sez Olaf. ”When I see the flame I do not see the people. The flame wavers about them, and sometimes I have seen it at night, but not often. I do nothing to make myself see this way.
Always my eyes did this even when I was only a baby.”
”Well, you have everything beat I ever saw yet,” sez Horace. ”What do you think o' this, Friar?”
”I never heard of such a case,” sez the Friar; ”although it may have been that many have had this gift to some extent. I think it is due to the peculiar blue of Olaf's eyes. I think that this blue detects colors or rays, not visible to ordinary eyes. I wish that some scientist would study them.”
”I'll pay your way back East, Olaf,” sez Horace, ”if you'll have your eyes tested.”
”No, no,” sez Olaf, shakin' his head. ”I don't want to be a freak.
What is the use? I can not tell how I do it, so it cannot be learned; and I do not want things put into my eyes for experiments. No, I will not do it.”
”Tell me how Badger-face looks to you,” sez Horace.
”Oh, he is bad,” sez Olaf. ”He has the hate color, he loves to kill; but he is like the wolf; he does not like the fight, he wants always to kill in secret.”
”I bet my eyes are a little like yours,” sez Horace, noddin' his head.
”I knew 'at Badger-face was this way as soon as I saw him.”
”Oh, here now,” sez the Friar. ”You are puttin' down a special gift to the level of shrewd character-readin'.”
”What sort of a flame does a dead person have, Olaf?” sez Horace.
A queer look came into Olaf's face, a half-scared look. ”A dead person has no flame,” sez he, with a little shudder. ”It is a bad sight. I have watched; I have seen the soul leave. When a man is killed, the savage purple color fades into the yellow of fear, then comes the blue, it gets fainter and fainter around the body; but it gathers like a cloud above, and then it is silver gray, like moons.h.i.+ne. It is not in the shape of the body, it is just a cloud. It floats away. That is all.”
”Well, that's enough,” sez Horace. ”Can you see any flame about a sleeping person?”
”Yes,” sez Olaf, ”just like about a waking person; and there is marks over a wound or a sick place.”
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