ou going to speak to me? Are you forgettin' me, Jerry?"

He caught the dead face between his hands and turned it strongly towards
his own. Then for a moment his eyes plumbed the shadows into which they
looked. He stumbled back to his feet and said apologetically to Haw-Haw
at the door: "I kind of forgot he wasn't livin', for a minute." He
stared fixedly at the gaunt cowpuncher. "Speakin' man to man, Haw-Haw,
d'you think Jerry will forget me?"

The terror was still white upon the face of Haw-Haw, but something
stronger than fear kept him in the room and even drew him a slow step
towards Mac Strann; and his eyes moved from the face of the dead man to
the face of the living and seemed to draw sustenance from both. He
moistened his lips and was able to speak.

"Forget you, Mac? Not if you get the man that fixed him."

"Would you want me to get him, Jerry?" asked Mac Strann. And he waited
for an answer.

"I dunno," he muttered, after a moment. "Jerry was always for fightin',
but he wasn't never for killin'. He never liked the way I done things.
And when he was lyin' here, Haw-Haw, he never said nothin' about me
gettin' Barry. Did he?"

Astonishment froze the lips of Haw-Haw. He managed to stammer: "Ain't
you going to get Barry? Ain't you goin' to bust him up, Mac?"

"I dunno," repeated the big man heavily. "Seems like I've got no heart
for killing. Seems like they's enough death in the world." He pressed
his hand against his forehead and closed his eyes. "Seems like they's
something dead in me. They's an ache that goes ringin' in my head.
They's a sort of hollow feelin' inside me. And I keep thinkin' about
times when I was a kid and got hurt and cried." He drew a deep breath.
"Oh, my God, Haw-Haw, I'd give most anything if I could bust out cryin'
now!"

While Mac Strann stood with his eyes closed, speaking his words slowly,
syllable by syllable, like the tolling of a bell, Haw-Haw Langley stood
with parted lips--like the spirit of famine drinking deep; joy
unutterable was glittering in his eyes.

"If Jerry'd wanted me to get this Barry, he'd of said so," repeated Mac
Strann. "But he didn't." He turned towards the dead face. "Look at Jerry
now. He ain't thinkin' about killin's. Nope, he's thinkin' about some
quiet place for sleep. I know the place. They's a spring that come out
in a holler between two mountains; and the wind blows up the valley all
the year; and they's a tree that stands over the spring. That's wher