4
When he wakened, he jumped at a stride into the full possession of hisfaculties. He had been placed near the open door, and the rush of nightair had done its work in reviving him. But Lefty, drawn back to life,felt only a vague wonder that his life had not been taken. Perhaps hewas being reserved by the victor for an Indian death of torment. He feltcautiously and found that not only were his hands free, but his revolverhad not been taken from him. A familiar weight was on his chest--thevery knife had been returned to its sheath.
Had Donnegan returned these things to show how perfectly he despised hisenemy?
"He's gone!" groaned the tramp, sitting up quickly.
"He's here," said a voice that cut easily through the roar of the train."Waiting for you, Lefty."
The tramp was staggered again. But then, who had ever been able tofathom the ways of Donnegan?
"Donnegan!" he cried with a sudden recklessness.
"Yes?"
"You're a fool!"
"Yes?"
"For not finishing the job."
Donnegan began to laugh. In the uproar of the train it was impossiblereally to hear the sound, but Lefty caught the pulse of it. He fingeredhis bruised throat; swallowing was a painful effort. And anindescribable feeling came over him as he realized that he sat armed tothe teeth within a yard of the man he wanted to kill, and yet he was aseffectively rendered helpless as though iron shackles had been locked onhis wrists and legs. The night light came through the doorway, and hecould make out the slender outline of Donnegan and again he caught thefaint luster of that red hair; and out of the shadowy form a singularpower emanated and sapped his strength at the root.
Yet he went on viciously: "Sooner or later, Donnegan, I'll get you!"
The red head of Donnegan moved, and Lefty Joe knew that the younger manwas laughing again.
"Why are you after me?" he asked at length.
It was another blow in the face of Lefty. He sat for a time blinkingwith owlish stupidity.
"Why?" he echoed. And he spoke his astonishment from the heart.
"Why am I after you?" he said again. "Why, confound you, ain't youDonnegan?"
"Yes."
"Don't the whole road know that I'm after you and you after me?"
"The whole road is crazy. I'm not after you."
Lefty choked.
"Maybe I been dreaming. Maybe you didn't bust up the gang? Maybe youdidn't clean up on Suds and Kennebec?"
"Suds? Kennebec? I sort of remember meeting them."
"You sort of--the devil!" Lefty Joe sputtered the words. "And after youcleaned up my crowd, ain't it natural and good sense for you to go onand try to clean up on me?"
"Sounds like it."
"But I figured to beat you to it. I cut in on your trail, Donnegan, andbefore I leave it you'll know a lot more about me."
"You're warning me ahead of time?"
"You've played this game square with me; I'll play square with you.Next time there'll be no slips, Donnegan. I dunno why you should ofpicked on me, though. Just the natural devil in you."
"I haven't picked on you," said Donnegan.
"What?"
"I'll give you my word."
A tingle ran through the blood of Lefty Joe. Somewhere he had heard, inrumor, that the word of Donnegan was as good as gold. He recalled thatrumor now and something of dignity in the manner with which Donneganmade his announcement carried a heavy weight. As a rule, the trampsvowed with many oaths; here was one of the nights of the road who madehis bare word sufficient. And Lefty Joe heard with great wonder.
"All I ask," he said, "is why you hounded my gang, if you wasn't afterme?"
"I didn't hound them. I ran into Suds by accident. We had trouble. ThenLevine. Then Kennebec Lou tried to take a fall out of me."
A note of whimsical protest crept into the voice of Donnegan.
"Somehow there's always a fight wherever I go," he said. "Fights justsort of grow up around me."
Lefty Joe snarled.
"You didn't mean nothing by just 'happening' to run into three of myboys one after another?"
"Not a thing."
Lefty rocked himself back and forth in an ecstasy of impatience.
"Why don't you stay put?" he complained. "Why don't you stake out yourown ground and stay put in it? You cut in on every guy's territory.There ain't any privacy any more since you hit the road. What you got? Aroving commission?"
Donnegan waited for a moment before he answered. And when he spoke hisvoice had altered. Indeed, he had remarkable ability to pitch his voiceinto the roar of the freight train, and above or beneath it, and give ita quality such as he pleased.
"I'm following a trail, but not yours," he admitted at length. "I'mfollowing a trail. I've been at it these two years and nothing hascome of it."
"Who you after?"
"A man with red hair."
"That tells me a lot."
Donnegan refused to explain.
"What you got against him--the color of his hair?"
And Lefty roared contentedly at his own stale jest.
"It's no good," replied Donnegan. "I'll never get on the trail."
Lefty broke in: "You mean to say you've been working two solid years andall on a trail that you ain't even found?"
The silence answered him in the affirmative.
"Ain't nobody been able to tip you off to him?" went on Lefty, intenselyinterested.
"Nobody. You see, he's a hard sort to describe. Red hair, that's allthere was about him for a clue. But if any one ever saw him strippedthey'd remember him by a big blotchy birthmark on his left shoulder."
"Eh?" grunted Lefty Joe.
He added: "What was his name?"
"Don't know. He changed monikers when he took to the road."
"What was he to you?"
"A man I'm going to find."
"No matter where the trail takes you?"
"No matter where."
At this Lefty was seized with unaccountable laughter. He literallystrained his lungs with that Homeric outburst. When he wiped the tearsfrom his eyes, at length, the shadow on the opposite side of the doorwayhad disappeared. He found his companion leaning over him, and this timehe could catch the dull glint of starlight on both hair and eyes.
"What d'you know?" asked Donnegan.
"How do you stand toward this bird with the birthmark and the red hair?"queried Lefty with caution.
"What d'you know?" insisted Donnegan.
All at once passion shook him; he fastened his grip in the shoulder ofthe larger man, and his fingertips worked toward the bone.
"What do you know?" he repeated for the third time, and now there was nohint of laughter in the hard voice of Lefty.
"You fool, if you follow that trail you'll go to the devil. It wasRusty Dick; and he's dead!"
His triumphant laughter came again, but Donnegan cut into it.
"Rusty Dick was the one you--killed!"
"Sure. What of it? We fought fair and square."
"Then Rusty wasn't the man I want. The man I want would of eaten twolike you, Lefty."
"What about the birthmark? It sure was on his shoulder; Donnegan."
"Heavens!" whispered Donnegan.
"What's the matter?"
"Rusty Dick," gasped Donnegan. "Yes, it must have been he."
"Sure it was. What did you have against him?"
"It was a matter of blood--between us," stammered Donnegan.
His voice rose in a peculiar manner, so that Lefty shrank involuntarily.
"You killed Rusty?"
"Ask any of the boys. But between you and me, it was the booze thatlicked Rusty Dick. I just finished up the job and surprised everybody."
The train was out of the mountains and in a country of scattering hills,but here it struck a steep grade and settled down to a grind of slowlabor; the rails hummed, and suspense filled the freight car.
"Hey," cried Lefty suddenly. "You fool, you'll do a flop out the door inabout a minute!"
> He even reached out to steady the toppling figure, but Donnegan pitchedstraight out into the night. Lefty craned his neck from the door,studying the roadbed, but at that moment the locomotive topped thelittle rise and the whole train lurched forward.
"After all," murmured Lefty Joe, "it sounds like Donnegan. Hated a guyso bad that he hadn't any use for livin' when he heard the other guy wasdead. But I'm never goin' to cross his path again, I hope."