The Night Horseman

by Max Brand

  CHAPTER X

  "SWEET ADELINE"

  Fatty Matthews came panting through the doors. He was one of those menwho have a leisurely build and a purely American desire for action; sothat he was always hurrying and always puffing. If he mounted a horse,sweat started out from every pore; if he swallowed a glass of red-eye hebreathed hard thereafter. Yet he was capable of great and sustainedexertions, as many and many a man in the Three B's could testify. He wasashamed of his fat. Imagine the soul of a Bald Eagle in the body of aPoland China sow and you begin to have some idea of Fatty Matthews. Fatfilled his boots as with water and he made a "squnching" sound when hewalked; fat rolled along his jowls; fat made his very forehead flabby;fat almost buried his eyes. But nothing could conceal the hawk-line ofhis nose or the gleam of those half-buried eyes. His hair wasshort-cropped, grey, and stood on end like bristles, and he was in thehabit of using his panting breath in humming--for that concealed thepuffing. So Fatty Matthews came through the doors and his little,concealed eyes darted from face to face. Then he kneeled beside Strann.

  He was humming as he opened Jerry's shirt; he was humming as he pulledfrom his bag--for Fatty was almost as much doctor as he was marshal,cowpuncher, miner, and gambler--a roll of cotton and another roll ofbandages. The crowd grouped around him, fascinated, and at hisdirections some of them brought water and others raised and turned thebody while the marshal made the bandages; Jerry Strann was unconscious.Fatty Matthews began to intersperse talk in his humming.

  "You was plugged from in front--my beauty--was you?" grunted Fatty, andthen running the roll of bandage around the wounded man's chest hehummed a bar of:

  _"Sweet Adeline, my Adeline, At night, dear heart, for you I pine."_

  "Was Jerry lookin' the other way when he was spotted?" asked Fatty ofthe bystanders. "O'Brien, you seen it?"

  O'Brien cleared his throat.

  "I didn't see nothin'," he said mildly, and began to mop his bar, whichwas already polished beyond belief.

  "Well," muttered Fatty Matthews, "all these birds get it. And Jerry wassome overdue. Lew, you seen it?"

  "Yep."

  "Some drunken bum do it?"

  Lew leaned to the ear of the kneeling marshal and whispered briefly.Fatty opened his eyes and cursed until his panting forced him to breakoff and hum.

  "Beat him to the draw?" he gasped at length.

  "Jerry's gun was clean out before the stranger made a move," assertedLew.

  "It ain't possible," murmured the deputy, and hummed softly:

  _"In all my dreams, your fair face beams."_

  He added sharply, as he finished the bandaging: "Where'd he head for?"

  "No place," answered Lew. "He just now went out the door."

  The deputy swore again, but he added, enlightened; "Going to pleadself-defense, eh?"

  Big O'Brien leaned over the bar.

  "Listen, Fatty," he said earnestly, "There ain't no doubt of it. Jerryhad his war-paint on. He tried to kill this feller Barry's wolf."

  "Wolf?" cut in the deputy marshal.

  "Dog, I guess," qualified the bartender. "I dunno. Anyway, Jerry madeall the leads; this Barry simply done the finishing. I say, don't putthis Barry under arrest. You want to keep him here for Mac Strann."

  "That's my business," growled Fatty. "Hey, half a dozen of you gents.Hook on to Jerry and take him up to a room. I'll be with you in aminute."

  And while his directions were being obeyed he trotted heavily up thelength of the barroom and out the swinging doors. Outside, he found onlyone man, and in the act of mounting a black horse; the deputy marshalmade straight for that man until a huge black dog appeared from nowhereblocking his path. It was a silent dog, but its teeth and eyes saidenough to stop Fatty in full career.

  "Are you Barry?" he asked.

  "That's me. Come here, Bart."

  The big dog backed to the other side of the horse without shifting hiseyes from the marshal. The latter gingerly approached the rider, who satperfectly at ease in the saddle; most apparently he was in no haste toleave.

  "Barry," said the deputy, "don't make no play when I tell you who I am;I don't mean you no harm, but my name's Matthews, and--" he drew backthe flap of his vest enough to show the glitter of his badge of office.All the time his little beady eyes watched Barry with bird-likeintentness. The rider made not a move. And now Matthews noted more indetail the feminine slenderness of the man and the large, placid eyes.He stepped closer and dropped a confidential hand on the pommel of thesaddle.

  "Son," he muttered, "I hear you made a clean play inside. Now, I knowStrann and his way. He was in wrong. There ain't a doubt of it, and if Iheld you, you'd get clear on self-defense. So I ain't going to lay ahand on you. You're free: but one thing more. You cut offthere--see?--and bear away north from the Three B's. You got a hoss that_is_, and believe me, you'll need him before you're through." Helowered his voice and his eyes bulged with the terror of his tidings:"Feed him the leather; ride to beat hell; never stop while your hoss canraise a trot; and then slide off your hoss and get another. Son, inthree days Mac Strann'll be on your trail!"

  He stepped back and waved his arms.

  "Now, _vamos!_"

  The black stallion flicked back its ears and winced from the outflunghands, but the rider remained imperturbed.

  "I never heard of Mac Strann," said Barry.

  "You never heard of Mac Strann?" echoed the other.

  "But I'd like to meet him," said Barry.

  The deputy marshal blinked his eyes rapidly, as though he needed toclear his vision.

  "Son," he said hoarsely. "I c'n see you're game. But don't make a fallplay. If Mac Strann gets you, he'll California you like a yearling. Youwon't have no chance. You've done for Jerry, there ain't a doubt ofthat, but Jerry to Mac is like a tame cat to a mountain-lion. Lad, I c'nsee you're a stranger to these parts, but ask me your questions and I'lltell you the best way to go."

  Barry slipped from the saddle.

  He said: "I'd like to know the best place to put up my hoss."

  The deputy marshal was speechless.

  "But I s'pose," went on Barry, "I can stable him over there behind thehotel."

  Matthews pushed off his sombrero and rubbed his short fingers throughhis hair. Anger and amazement still choked him, but he controlledhimself by a praiseworthy effort.

  "Barry," he said, "I don't make you out. Maybe you figure to wait tillMac Strann gets to town before you leave; maybe you think your hoss canoutrun anything on four feet. And maybe it can. But listen to me: MacStrann ain't fast on a trail, but the point about him is that he neverleaves it! You can go through rain and over rocks, but you can't nevershake Mac Strann--not once he gets the wind of you."

  "Thanks," returned the gentle-voiced stranger. "I guess maybe he'll beworth meeting."

  And so saying he turned on his heel and walked calmly towards the bigstables behind the hotel and at his heels followed the black dog and theblack horse. As for deputy marshal Matthews, he moistened his lips towhistle, but when he pursed them, not a sound came. He turned at lengthinto the barroom and as he walked his eye was vacant. He was hummingbrokenly:

  _"Sweet Adeline, my Adeline, At night, dear heart, for you I pine."_

  Inside, he took firm hold upon the bar with both pudgy hands.

  "O'Brien," he said, "red-eye."

  He pushed away the small glass which the bartender spun towards him andseized in its place a mighty water-tumbler.

  "O'Brien," he explained, "I need strength, not encouragement." Andfilling the glass nearly to the brim he downed the huge potion at asingle draught.