by Max Brand
CHAPTER 24
The thought of Jud now took him up the back trail of Andrew Lanning. Heleaned far over with the lantern, studying with intense interest everyplace where the wounds of the injured man might have left telltalestains on the rocks or the grass. When he had apparently satisfiedhimself of this, he turned and ran at full speed back to the house andwent up the ladder to Andrew. There he took the boots--they wereterribly stained, he saw--and drew them on.
The loose boots and the unaccustomed weights tangled his feet sadly, ashe went on down the ladder, but he said not a word to his grandfather,who was far too dignified to make a comment on the borrowed footgear.
Again outside with his lantern, the boy took out his pocket-knife andfelt the small blade. It was of a razor keenness. Then he went throughthe yard behind the house to the big henhouse, where the chickens satperched in dense rows. He raised his lantern; at once scores of tiny,bright eyes flashed back at him.
But Jud, with a twisted face of determination, kept on with his surveyuntil he saw the red comb and the arched tail plumes of a large PlymouthRock rooster.
It was a familiar sight to Jud. Of all the chickens on the place thiswas his peculiar property. And now he had determined to sacrifice thisdearest of pets.
The old rooster was so accustomed to his master, indeed, that he allowedhimself to be taken from the perch without a single squawk, and the boytook his captive beyond the pen. Once, when the big rooster canted hishead and looked into his face, the boy had to wink away the tears; buthe thought of the man so near death in the attic, he felt the clumsyboots on his feet, and his heart grew strong again.
He went around to the front of the house and by the steps he fastened onthe long neck of his prisoner a grasp strong enough to keep him silentfor a moment. Then he cut the rooster's breast deeply, shuddering as hefelt the knife take hold.
Something trickled warmly over his hands. Dropping his knife in hispocket, Jud started, walked with steps as long as he could make them. Hewent, with the spurs chinking to keep time for each stride, straighttoward a cliff some hundreds of yards from the house. The blood ranfreely. The old rooster, feeling himself sicken, sank weakly against thebreast of the boy, and Jud thought that his heart would break. Hereached the sharp edge of the cliff and heard the rush of the littleriver far below him. At the same time his captive gave one final flutterof the wings, one feeble crow, and was dead.
Jud waited until the tears had cleared from his eyes. Then he took offthe boots, and, in bare feet that would leave no trace on the rocks, heskirted swiftly back to the house, put the dead body back in the chickenyard, and returned to his grandfather.
There was one great satisfaction for him that evening, one reward forthe great sacrifice, and it came immediately. While the old man stoodtrembling before him, Jud told his story.
It was a rich feast indeed to see the relief, the astonishment, thepride come in swift turns upon that grim old face.
And yet in the end Pop was able to muster a fairly good imitation of afrown.
"And here you come back with a shirt and a pair of trousers plumbspoiled by all your gallivantin'," he said, "not speakin' of a perfectlygood chicken killed. Ain't you never goin' to get grown up, Jud?"
"He was mine, the chicken I killed," said Jud, choking.
It brought a pause upon the talk. The other was forced to wink both eyesat once and sigh.
"The big speckled feller?" he asked more gently.
"The Plymouth Rock," said Jud fiercely. "He wasn't no speckled feller!He was the finest rooster and the gamest--"
"Have it your own way," said the old man. "You got your grandma's tonguewhen it comes to arguin' fine points. Now go and skin out of themclothes and come back and see that you've got all that--that stuff of'nyour face and hands."
Jud obeyed, and presently reappeared in a ragged outfit, his face andhands red from scrubbing.
"I guess maybe it's all right," declared the old man. "Only, they'srisks in it. Know what's apt to happen if they was to find that you'dhelped to get a outlaw off free?"
"What would it be?" asked the boy.
"Oh, nothin' much. Maybe they'd try you and maybe they wouldn't.Anyways, they'd sure wind up by hangin' you by the neck till you was asdead as the speckled rooster."
"The Plymouth Rock," insisted Jud hotly.
"All right, I don't argue none. But you just done a dangerous thing,Jud. And there'll be a consid'able pile of men here in the mornin', mostlike, to ask you how and why."
He was astonished to hear Jud break into laughter.
"Hush up," said Pop. "You'll be wakin' him up with all that noise.Besides, what d'you mean by laughin' at the law?" "Why, granddad," saidJud, "don't I know you wouldn't never let no posse take me from you?Don't I know maybe you'd clean 'em all up?"
"Pshaw!" said Pop, and flushed with delight. "You was always a fool kid,Jud. Now you run along to bed."
