The Seventh Man Read online

  Chapter VIII. Discipline

  A light step crossed the outer room, with something peculiar in itslightness, as if the heel were not touching the floor, with the effectof the padded fall of the feet of some great cat; there was bothsoftness and the sense of weight. First the wolf-dog pricked his earsand turned towards the door, the pudgy fist closed convulsively overVic's thumb, and then his rescuer stood in the entrance.

  "Hello, partner," called Vic. "I got company, you see. The door blewopen and I asked your little girl in."

  "I told you not to come here," said the other. Vic felt the childtremble, but there was no burst of excuses.

  "She didn't want to come," he urged. "But I kep' on askin' her."

  The emotionless eye of "Daddy Dan" held upon Joan. "I told you not tocome," he said. Joan swallowed in mute agony, and the wolf-dog slippedto the side of the master and licked his hand as though in dumbintercession. The blood ran coldly in the veins of Gregg, as if he saw afist raised to strike the little girl.

  "You go out."

  She went swiftly, at that, sidled past her father with her eyes lifted,fascinated, and so out the door where she paused an instant to flashback a wistful appeal. Nothing but silence, and then her feet patteringoff into the outer room.

  "Maybe you better go keep her company, Bart," said the father, and atthis sign of relenting Vic felt his tensed muscles relaxing; the wolfwhined softly and glided through the door.

  "You feeling better?"

  "Like a hoss off green feed. I been lyin' here drinkin' up thesunshine."

  The other stood beside the open window and there he canted his head, hisglance far off and intent.

  "D'you hear?" he asked, turning sharply.

  There was a fierce eagerness in his face.

  "Hear what?"

  "It's spring," he murmured, without answering more directly than this,and Vic felt that the other had changed again, grown understandable.Nevertheless, the shock of that sudden alteration at the window kepthim watching his host with breathless interest. Whatever it was that thestrange fellow heard, a light had gleamed in his eyes for a moment. Ashe sauntered back towards the bed just a trace of it lingered about him,a hint of sternness.

  "Spring?" answered Gregg. "Yep, I smelled spring a few days back and Istarted out to find some action. You can see for yourself that I foundit, partner." He stirred, uneasily, but it was necessary that the storyshould be told lest it reach the ears of this man from another source.It was one thing to shelter a fugitive from justice whose crime wasunknown, perhaps trifling, but it might be quite another story if thisgentle, singular man learned that his guest was a new-made murderer.Better that he should learn the tale now and form his prejudices infavor of Gregg. "I'll tell you the whole story," he began.

  But the other shrugged his shoulders.

  "You leave the story be," he said, and there was something in the quietfirmness of his manner which made it impossible for Vic to continue."You're here and you're hurt and you need a pile of rest. That's aboutenough story for me."

  Vic put himself swiftly in the place of the other. Suppose that he andBetty Neal should have a cabin off in the mountains like this, how wouldthey receive a wounded fugitive from justice? As unquestioningly asthis? In a surge of gratitude he looked mistily towards his host.

  "Stranger," he said, "you're white. Damned white. That's all. My name'sVic Gregg and I come from--"

  "Thanks," cut in the other. "I'm glad to know your name but in caseanybody might be askin' me I wouldn't care to know where you come from."He smiled. "I'm Dan Barry."

  It had to be a left-handed shake on the part of Vic, a thing of whichhe often thought in the days that followed, but now he sent his memoryhunting.

  "Seems like I've heard your name before," he murmured. "I dunno where.Were you ever around Alder, Barry?"

  "No." His manner suggested that the topic might as well be closed. Hereached over and dropped his hand lightly on the forehead of Vic. Atingling current flowed from it into the brain of the wounded man. "Yourblood's still a bit hot," he added. "Lie quiet and don't even think.You're safe here. They ain't a thing goin' to get at you. Not a thing.You'll stay till you get ready to leave. S'long. I'll see that you getsomething to eat."

  He went out with that unusual, padding step which Vic had noticed beforeand closed the door softly behind him. In spite of that barrier Greggcould hear the noises from the next room quite clearly, as some onebrought in wood and dropped it on a stone hearth, rattling. He fellinto a pleasant doze, just stretching his body now and then to enjoy thecoolness of the sheets, the delicious sense of being cared for and thereturning strength in his muscles. Through that haze he heard voices,presently, which called him back to wakefulness.

  "That ought to be good for him. Take it in, Kate."

  "I shall. Dan, what has Joan done?"

  "She went in there. I told her to leave him alone."

  "But she says he asked her to come in--said he would take the blame."

  "I told her not to go."

  "Poor baby! She's outside, now, weeping her eyes out on Bart's shoulderand he's trying to comfort her."

  It was purer English than Vic was accustomed to hear even from hisschoolmistress, but more than the words, the voice surprised him, thelow, controlled voice of a woman of gentle blood. He turned his head andlooked out the window, baffled. Far above, shooting out of sight,went the slope of a mountain, a cliff shining in the slant sun of theafternoon here, a tumbled slide of rocks and debris there, and over theshoulder of this mountain he saw white-headed monsters stepping back inrange beyond range. Why should a girl of refinement choose the isolationof such a place as this for her home? It was not the only strange thingabout this household, however, and he would dismiss conjectures until hewas once more on his feet.

  She was saying: "Won't you speak to her now?"

  A little pause. Then: "No, not until evenin'."

  "Please, Dan."

  "She's got to learn."

  A little exclamation of unhappiness and then the door moved open; Vicfound himself looking up to the face with the golden hair which heremembered out of his nightmare. She nodded to him cheerily.

  "I'm so happy that you're better," she said. "Dan says that the fever isnearly gone." She rested a large tray she carried on the foot of the bedand Vic discovered, to his great content, that it was not hard to meether eyes. Usually girls embarrassed him, but he recognized so much ofJoan in the features of the mother that he felt well acquainted at once.Motherhood, surely, sat as lightly on her shoulders as fatherhood did onDan Barry, yet he felt a great pity as he looked at her, this flowerlikebeauty lost in the rocks and snow with only one man near her. She waslike music played without an audience except senseless things.

  "Yep, I'm a lot better," he answered, "but it sure makes me terriblesorry, ma'am, that I got your little girl in trouble. Mostly, it was myfault."

  She waved away all need of apology.

  "Don't think an instant about that, Mr. Gregg. Joan needs a great dealof disciplining." She laughed a little. "She has so much of her fatherin her, you see. Now, are you strong enough to lift yourself higher inthe pillows?"

  They managed it between them, for he was weaker than he thought and whenhe was padded into position with cushions she laid the tray across hisknees. His head swam at sight of it. Forty-eight hours of fasting hadsharpened his appetite, and the loaded tray whetted a razor edge, for agreat bowl of broth steamed forth an exquisite fragrance on one sideand beside it she lifted a napkin to let him peek at a slice of venisonsteak. Then there was butter, yellow as the gold for which he had beendigging all winter, and real cream for his coffee--a whole pitcher ofit--and snowy bread. Best of all, she did not stay to embarrass him withher watching while he ate, since above all things in the world a hungryman hates observation when the board is spread.

  Afterwards, consuming sleep rippled over him from his feet to his eyesto his brain. He partially roused when the tray was removed, and thepillows slipped from under
his back, but with a vague understanding thatexpert hands were setting the bed in order his senses fled once more.

  Hours and hours later he opened his eyes in utter darkness with a thin,sweet voice still ringing in his ears. He could not place himself untilhe turned his head and saw a meager, broken, rectangular line of lightwhich was the door, and immediately afterwards the voice cried: "Oh,Daddy Dan! And what did the wolf do then?"

  "I'm comin' to that, Joan, but don't you talk about wolves so loud orold Black Bart'll think you're talkin' about him. See him lookin' at younow?"

  "But please go on. I won't say one little word."

  The man's voice began again, softly, so that not a word was audible toGregg; he heard the crackle of burning logs upon the hearth; saw therectangle of light flicker; caught a faint scent of wood smoke, and thenhe slept once more.