The talk was fitful in the living room. Elizabeth Cornish did her best to
revive the happiness of her guests, but she herself was a prey to the
same subdued excitement which showed in the faces of the others. A
restraint had been taken away by the disappearance of both the storm
centers of the dinner--the sheriff and Terry. Therefore it was possible
to talk freely. And people talked. But not loudly. They were prone to
gather in little familiar groups and discuss in a whisper how Terry had
risen and spoken before them. Now and then someone, for the sake of
politeness, strove to open a general theme of conversation, but it died
away like a ripple on a placid pond.
"But what I can't understand," said Elizabeth to Vance when she was able
to maneuver him to her side later on, "is why they seem to expect
something more."
Vance was very grave and looked tired. The realization that all his
cunning, all his work, had been for nothing, tormented him. He had set
his trap and baited it, and it had worked perfectly--save that the teeth
of the trap had closed over thin air. At the denouement of the sheriff's
story there should have been the barking of two guns and a film of
gunpowder smoke should have gone tangling to the ceiling. Instead there
had been the formal little speech from Terry--and then quiet. Yet he had
to mask and control his bitterness; he had to watch his tongue in talking
with his sister.
"You see," he said quietly, "they don't understand. They can't see how
fine Terry is in having made no attempt to avenge the death of his
father. I suppose a few of them think he's a coward. I even heard a
little talk to that effect!"
"Impossible!" cried Elizabeth.
She had not thought of this phase of the matter. All at once she hated
the sheriff.
"It really is possible," said Vance. "You see, it's known that Terry
never fights if he can avoid it. There never has been any real reason for
fighting until today. But you know how gossip will put the most unrelated
facts together, and make a complete story in some way."
"I wish the sheriff were dead!" moaned Elizabeth. "Oh, Vance, if you only
hadn't gone near Craterville! If you only hadn't distributed those
wholesale invitations!"
It was almost too much for Vance--to be reproached after so much of the
triumph was on her side--such a complete victory that she herself would
never dream of the peril she and Terry had escaped. But he had to control
his irritation. In fact, he saw his whole life ahead of him carefully
schooled and controlled. He no longer had anything to sell. Elizabeth had
made a mock of him and shown him that he was hollow, that he was living
on her charity. He must all the days that she remained alive keep
flattering her, trying to find a way to make himself a necessity to her.
And after her death there would be a still harder task. Terry, who
disliked him pointedly, would then be the master, and he would face the
bitter necessity of cajoling the youngster whom he detested. A fine life,
truly! An almost noble anguish of the spirit came upon Vance. He was
urged to the very brink of the determination to thrust out into the world
and make his own living. But he recoiled from that horrible idea in time.
"Yes," he said, "that was the worst step I ever took. But I was trying to
be wholehearted in the Western way, my dear, and show that I had entered
into the spirit of things."
"As a matter of fact," sighed Elizabeth, "you nearly ruined Terry's
life--and mine!"
"Very near," said the penitent Vance. "But then--you see how well it has
turned out? Terry has taken the acid test, and now you can trust him
under any--"
The words were literally blown off ragged at his lips. Two revolver shots
exploded at them. No one gun could have fired them. And there was a
terrible significance in the angry speed with which one had followed the
other, blending, so that the echo from the lofty side of Sleep Mountain
was but a single booming sound. In that clear air it was impossible to
tell the direction of the noise.
Everyone in the room seemed to listen stupidly for a repetition of the
noises. But there was no repetition.
"Vance," whispered Elizabeth in such a tone that the coward dared not
look into her face. "It's happened!"
"What?" He knew, but he wanted the joy of hearing it from her own lips.
"It has happened," she whispered in the same ghostly voice. "But which
one?"
That was it. Who had fallen--Terry, or the sheriff? A long, heavy step
crossed the little porch. Either man might walk like that.
The door was flung open. Terence Hollis stood before them.
"I think that I've killed the sheriff," he said simply. "I'm going up to
my room to put some things together; and I'll go into town with any man
who wishes to arrest me. Decide that between yourselves."
With that he turned and walked away with a step as deliberately unhurried
as his approach had been. The manner of the boy was more terrible than
the thing he had done. Twice he had shocked them on the same afternoon.
And they were just beginning to realize that the shell of boyhood was
being ripped away from Terence Colby. Terry Hollis, son of Black Jack,
was being revealed to them.
The men received the news with utter bewilderment. The sheriff was as
formidable in the opinion of the mountains as some Achilles. It was
incredible that he should have fallen. And naturally a stern murmur rose:
"Foul play!"
Since the first vigilante days there has been no sound in all the West so
dreaded as that deep-throated murmur of angry, honest men. That murmur
from half a dozen law-abiding citizens will put the fear of death in the
hearts of a hundred outlaws. The rumble grew, spread: "Foul play." And
they began to look to one another, these men of action.
Only Elizabeth was silent. She rose to her feet, as tall as her brother,
without an emotion on her face. And her brother would never forget her.
"It seems that you've won, Vance. It seems that blood will out, after
all. The time is not quite up--and you win the bet!"
Vance shook his head as though in protest and struck his hand across his
face. He dared not let her see the joy that contorted his features.
Triumph here on the very verge of defeat! It misted his eyes. Joy gave
wings to his thoughts. He was the master of the valley.
"But--you'll think before you do anything, Elizabeth?"
"I've done my thinking already--twenty-four years of it. I'm going to do
what I promised I'd do."
"And that?"
"You'll see and hear in time. What's yonder?"
The men were rising, one after another, and bunching together. Before
Vance could answer, there was a confusion in the hall, running feet here
and there. They heard the hard, shrill voice of Wu Chi chattering
directions and the guttural murmurs of his fellow servants as they
answered. Someone ran out into the hall and came back to the huddling,
stirring crowd in the living room.
"He's not dead--but close to it. Maybe die any minute--maybe live through
it!"
That was the report.
"We'll get young Hollis and hold him to see how the sheriff comes out."
"Aye, we'll get him!"
All at once they boiled into action and the little crowd of men thrust
for the big doors that led into the hall. They cast the doors back and
came directly upon the tall, white-headed figure of Gainor.