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realized； when he found himself face to face with one of the most
notorious characters ever known in Texasan outlaw long supposed
to be dead。
〃Men； I reckon I'd kept my secret if I'd any idee of comin' out of this
Isbel…Jorth war alive；〃 said Blue。 〃But I'm goin' to cash。 I feel it
heah。 。 。 。 Isbel was my friend。 He saved me from bein' lynched in
Texas。 An' so I'm goin' to kill Jorth。 Now I'll take it kind of y'u
if any of y'u come out of this aliveto tell who I was an' why I was
on the Isbel side。 Because this sheep an' cattle warthis talk of
Jorth an' the Hash Knife Gangit makes me； sick。 I KNOW there's been
crooked work on Isbel's side； too。 An' I never want it on record thet
I killed Jorth because he was a rustler。〃
〃By God； Blue！ it's late in the day for such talk；〃 burst out
Blaisdell； in rage and amaze。 〃But I reckon y'u know what y'u're
talkin' aboot。 。 。 。 Wal； I shore don't want to heah it。〃
At this juncture Bill Isbel quietly entered the cabin； too late to hear
any of Blue's statement。 Jean was positive of that； for as Blue was
speaking those last revealing words Bill's heavy boots had resounded
on the gravel path outside。 Yet something in Bill's look or in the way
Blue averted his lean face or in the entrance of Bill at that particular
moment； or all these together； seemed to Jean to add further mystery to
the long secret causes leading up to the Jorth…Isbel war。 Did Bill know
what Blue knew？ Jean had an inkling that he did。 And on the moment；
so perplexing and bitter； Jean gazed out the door； down the deserted
road to where his dead father lay； white…haired and ghastly in the
sunlight。
〃Blue； you could have kept that to yourself； as well as your real name；〃
interposed Jean； with bitterness。 〃It's too late now for either to do
any good。 。 。 。 But I appreciate your friendship for dad； an' I'm ready
to help carry out your plan。〃
That decision of Jean's appeared to put an end to protest or argument
from Blaisdell or any of the others。 Blue's fleeting dark smile was
one of satisfaction。 Then upon most of this group of men seemed to
settle a grim restraint。 They went out and walked and watched； they
came in again； restless and somber。 Jean thought that he must have
bent his gaze a thousand times down the road to the tragic figure of
his father。 That sight roused all emotions in his breast； and the
one that stirred there most was pity。 The pity of it！ Gaston Isbel
lying face down in the dust of the village street！ Patches of blood
showed on the back of his vest and one white…sleeved shoulder。 He had
been shot through。 Every time Jean saw this blood he had to stifle a
gathering of wild； savage impulses。
Meanwhile the afternoon hours dragged by and the village remained as
if its inhabitants had abandoned it。 Not even a dog showed on the
side road。 Jorth and some of his men came out in front of the store
and sat on the steps； in close convening groups。 Every move they；
made seemed significant of their confidence and importance。 About
sunset they went back into the store； closing door and window
shutters。 Then Blaisdell called the Isbel faction to have food and
drink。 Jean felt no hunger。 And Blue； who had kept apart from the
others； showed no desire to eat。 Neither did he smoke； though early
in the day he had never been without a cigarette between his lips。
Twilight fell and darkness came。 Not a light showed anywhere in
the blackness。
〃Wal； I reckon it's aboot time；〃 said Blue； and he led the way out of
the cabin to the back of the lot。 Jean strode behind him； carrying
his rifle and an ax。 Silently the other men followed。 Blue turned
to the left and led through the field until he came within sight of
a dark line of trees。
〃Thet's where the road turns off；〃 he said to Jean。 〃An' heah's the
back of Coleman's place。 。 。 。 Wal； Jean； good luck！〃
Jean felt the grip of a steel…like hand； and in the darkness he caught
the gleam of Blue's eyes。 Jean had no response in words for the laconic
Blue； but he wrung the hard； thin hand and hurried away in the darkness。
Once alone； his part of the business at hand rushed him into eager
thrilling action。 This was the sort of work he was fitted to do。
In this instance it was important； but it seemed to him that Blue
had coolly taken the perilous part。 And this cowboy with gray in his
thin hair was in reality the great King Fisher！ Jean marveled at the
fact。 And he shivered all over for Jorth。 In ten minutesfifteen；
more or less； Jorth would lie gasping bloody froth and sinking down。
Something in the dark； lonely； silent； oppressive summer night told
Jean this。 He strode on swiftly。 Crossing the road at a run； he kept
on over the ground he had traversed during the afternoon； and in a few
moments he stood breathing hard at the edge of the common behind
Greaves's store。
A pin point of light penetrated the blackness。 It made Jean's heart
leap。 The Jorth contingent were burning the big lamp that hung in the
center of Greaves's store。 Jean listened。 Loud voices and coarse
laughter sounded discord on the melancholy silence of the night。 What
Blue had called his instinct had surely guided him aright。 Death of
Gaston Isbel was being celebrated by revel。
In a few moments Jean had regained his breath。 Then all his faculties
set intensely to the action at hand。 He seemed to magnify his hearing
and his sight。 His movements made no sound。 He gained the wagon；
where he crouched a moment。
The ground seemed a pale； obscure medium； hardly more real than the
gloom above it。 Through this gloom of night； which looked thick like
a cloud； but was really clear； shone the thin； bright point of light；
accentuating the black square that was Greaves's store。 Above this
stood a gray line of tree foliage； and then the intensely dark…blue
sky studded with white； cold stars。
A hound bayed lonesomely somewhere in the distance。 Voices of men
sounded more distinctly； some deep and low； others loud； unguarded；
with the vacant note of thoughtlessness。
Jean gathered all his forces； until sense of sight and hearing were in
exquisite accord with the suppleness and lightness of his movements。
He glided on about ten short； swift steps before he halted。 That was
as far as his piercing eyes could penetrate。 If there had been a guard
stationed outside the store Jean would have seen him before being seen。
He saw the fence； reached it； entered the yard； glided in the dense
shadow of the barn until the black square began to loom graythe color
of stone at night。 Jean peered through the obscurity。 No dark figure
of a man showed against that gray wallonly a black patch； which must
be the hole in the foundation mentioned。 A ray of light now streaked
out from the little black window。 To the right showed the wide；
black door。
Farther on Jean glided silently。 Then he halted。 There was no guard
outside。 Jean heard the clink of a cap； the lazy drawl of a Texan；
and then a strong； harsh voiceJorth's。 It strung Jean's whole being
tight and vibrating。 Inside he was on fire while cold thrills rippled
over his skin。 It took tremendous effort of will to hold himself back
another instant to listen； to look； to feel； to make sure。 And that
instant charged him with a mighty current of hot blood； straining；
throbbing； damming。
When Jean leaped this current burst。 In a few swift bounds he gained
his point halfway between door and window。 He leaned his rifle against
the stone wall。 Then he swung the ax。 Crash！ The window shutter split
and rattled to the floor inside。 The silence then broke with a hoarse；
〃What's thet？〃
With all his might Jean swung the heavy ax on the door。 Smash！ The
lower half caved in and banged to the floor。 Bright light flared out
the hole。
〃Look out！〃 yelled a man； in loud alarm。 〃They're batterin' the
back door！〃
Jean swung again； high on the splintered door。 Crash！ Pieces flew inside。
〃They've got axes；〃 hoarsely shouted another voice。 〃Shove the counter
ag'in' the door。〃
〃No！〃 thundered a voice of authority that denoted terror as well。
〃Let them come in。 Pull your guns an' take to cover！〃
〃They ain't comin' in；〃 was the hoarse reply。 〃They'll shoot in
on us from the dark。〃
〃Put out the lamp！〃 yelled another。
Jean's third heavy swing caved in part of the upper half of the door。
Shouts and curses intermingled with the sliding of benches across the
floor and the hard shuffle of boots。 This confusion seemed to be split
and silenced by a piercing yell； of different caliber； of terrible
meaning。 It stayed Jean's swingcaused him to drop the ax and snatch
up his rifle。
〃DON'T ANYBODY MOVE！〃
Like a steel whip this voice cut the silence。 It belonged to Blue。
Jean swiftly bent to put his eye to a crack in the door。 Most of those
visible seemed to have been frozen into unnatural positions。 Jorth stood
rather in front of his men； hatless and coatless； one arm outstretched；
and his dark profile set toward a little man just inside the door。 This
man was Blue。 Jean needed only one flashing look at Blue's face； at his
leveled； quivering guns； to understand why he ha