There was colour in the old man's face. It almost
seemed, to the incredulous eyes of Byrne, that the face was filled out a
trifle. Certainly the fire of the old cattleman's glance was less
unearthly.
"Where's Dan?" he called. "Where'd he go?"
It was no longer the deep, controlled voice of the stoic; it was the
almost whining complaint of vital weakness.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" parried Byrne. "Anything you need
or wish?"
"Him!" answered the old man explosively. "Damn it, I need Dan! Where is
he? He was here. I _felt_ him here while I was sleepin'. _where is he?_"
"He has stepped out for an instant," answered Byrne smoothly. "He will
be back shortly."
"He--has--stepped--out?" echoed the old man slowly. Then he rose to the
full of his gaunt height. His white hair, his triangle of beard and
pointed moustache gave him a detached, a mediaeval significance; a
portrait by Van Dyck had stepped from its frame.
"Doc, you're lyin' to me! Where has he gone?"
A sudden, almost hysterical burst of emotion swept Doctor Byrne.
"Gone to heaven or hell!" he cried with startling violence. "Gone to
follow the wind and the wild geese--God knows where!"
Like a period to his sentence, a gun barked outside, there was a howl of
demoniac pain and rage, and then a scream that would tingle in the ear
of Doctor Randall Byrne till his dying day.
CHAPTER XXIII
HOW MAC STRANN KEPT THE LAW
For when the dog sprang, Mac Strann fired, and the wolf was jerked up in
the midst of his leap by the tearing impact of the bullet.
Pages:
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184