Beth Norvell - Page 132/177

She reeled as though about to fall, her hand pressed against her heart.

Before an arm could be out-stretched in support, she had rallied, and

turned away. With head lowered, her face shadowed by her hair she

walked slowly toward the cabin. No man in the group stirred until she

had disappeared. Then the sheriff fumblingly replaced his hat, his

eyes wandering in uncertainty from Farnham to Winston.

"By God!" he exclaimed, as though in relief, catching his breath

quickly and wiping his forehead. "By God! but that was fierce."

Recalling his own duty he reached out his hand and laid it heavily upon

the shoulder of the man standing next him. It chanced to be the Swede.

"Go on into the cabin," he commanded, a returning sternness in the

order.

The surprised man stared at him in dull bewilderment.

"Vat for Ay go--hey?"

"Because you 're under arrest."

"Vat dot you say? I vas arrest? Maybe you not know me, hey? Ay tells

you vat Ay vas mighty quick. Ay ban Nels Swanson; Ay ban Lutheran; Ay

ban shovel--"

"Oh, shut up; ye 're under arrest, I tell you--move on now."

"Vat vas dis under arrest?" the blue eyes losing their mildness, the

drooping moustache beginning to bristle. "Ay no understand 'bout dis

arrest. Vat Ay do, hey?"

"Helped to kill Jack Burke."

The startled Norseman stared at him, gulping, his eyes fairly

protruding from his face, his breath hissing between his gritted teeth.

The wild berserker blood was surging hot through his veins.

"Ut vas von lie! You kill me so! By tamn, no!"

That instant, insane with fright, he grasped the astonished officer in

the vise of his great hands, swung him into the air, and dashed him

down headlong upon the rocks. Uttering a yell like that of some wild

animal, the fellow was off, striking against Winston with his body as

he passed, leaping recklessly across the rocks, heading straight toward

the nearest thicket. It was all the work of a moment. Farnham whirled

and sent one shot after him; then, as suddenly remembering his own

peril, wheeled back to face the others, the smoking revolver in his

hand. Amid the quick turmoil old Mike sprang to the summit of the rock

rampart, his face flaming with enthusiasm.

"Go it, Swanska!" he yelled, encouragingly. "Go it, ye crazy

white-head! Be the powers, but it's the foinest runnin' Oi 've sane

fer a whoile. Saints aloive! but wud ye moind thim legs! 'Twas a

kangaroo, begorry, an' not a monkey he come from, or Oi 'm a loiar. Go

it, Swanny, ould bye! Howly St. Patrick! but he 'll be out o' the

State afore dhark, if he only kapes it up. It 's money Oi 'm bettin'

on the Swade!"

Winston stepped swiftly across to the motionless sheriff, and knelt

down beside him, his face gravely anxious. The unfortunate man lay

huddled up, breathing heavily, his head bleeding freely from two

plainly visible wounds. The engineer turned him over, one hand feeling

for his heart. Slowly the young man rose to his feet, standing beside

the body, his gray eyes fastened upon Farnham. Here was a condition of

affairs he must decide upon for himself, decide instantly, decide in

spite of law, in spite of everything.