Part 20 (1/2)

”I dunno,” he muttered, after a moment. ”Jerry was always for fightin', but he wasn't never for killin'. He never liked the way I done things.

And when he was lyin' here, Haw-Haw, he never said nothin' about me gettin' Barry. Did he?”

Astonishment froze the lips of Haw-Haw. He managed to stammer: ”Ain't you going to get Barry? Ain't you goin' to bust him up, Mac?”

”I dunno,” repeated the big man heavily. ”Seems like I've got no heart for killing. Seems like they's enough death in the world.” He pressed his hand against his forehead and closed his eyes. ”Seems like they's something dead in me. They's an ache that goes ringin' in my head.

They's a sort of hollow feelin' inside me. And I keep thinkin' about times when I was a kid and got hurt and cried.” He drew a deep breath.

”Oh, my G.o.d, Haw-Haw, I'd give most anything if I could bust out cryin'

now!”

While Mac Strann stood with his eyes closed, speaking his words slowly, syllable by syllable, like the tolling of a bell, Haw-Haw Langley stood with parted lips--like the spirit of famine drinking deep; joy unutterable was glittering in his eyes.

”If Jerry'd wanted me to get this Barry, he'd of said so,” repeated Mac Strann. ”But he didn't.” He turned towards the dead face. ”Look at Jerry now. He ain't thinkin' about killin's. Nope, he's thinkin' about some quiet place for sleep. I know the place. They's a spring that come out in a holler between two mountains; and the wind blows up the valley all the year; and they's a tree that stands over the spring. That's where I'll put him. He loved the sound of runnin' water; and the wind'll be on his face; and the tree'll sort of mark the place. Jerry, lad, would ye like that?”

Now, while Mac Strann talked, inspiration came to Haw-Haw Langley, and he stretched out his gaunt arms to it and gathered it in to his heart.

”Mac,” he said, ”don't you see no reason why Jerry wouldn't ask you to go after Barry?”

”Eh?” queried Mac Strann, turning.

But as he turned, Haw-Haw Langley glided towards him, and behind him, as if he found it easier to talk when the face of Mac was turned away. And while he talked his hands reached out towards Mac Strann like one who is begging for alms.

”Mac, don't you remember that Barry beat Jerry to the draw?”

”What's that to do with it?”

”But he beat him bad to the draw. I seen it. Barry _waited_ for Jerry.

Understand?”

”What of that?”

”Mac, you're blind! Jerry knowed you'd be throwing yourself away if you went up agin Barry.”

At this Mac Strann whirled with a suddenness surprising for one of his bulk. Haw-Haw Langley flattened his gaunt frame against the wall.

”Mac!” he pleaded, ”_I_ didn't say you'd be throwin' yourself away. It was Jerry's idea.”

”Did Jerry tell you that?” he asked.

”So help me G.o.d!”

”Did Jerry _want_ me to get Barry?”

”Why wouldn't he?” persisted the vulture, twisting his bony hands together in an agony of alarm and suspense. ”Ain't it nacheral, Mac?”

Mac Strann wavered where he stood.

”Somehow,” he argued to himself, ”it don't seem like killin' is right, here.”