Man to Man

by Jackson Gregory

  CHAPTER XII

  IN A DARK ROOM

  Bill Royce, hastily and but half dressed, came promptly to the house,stumbling along at Barbee's heels. Blenham, his silence andwatchfulness unbroken, still chewed at his fist. Barbee brought aheavy blacksnake in his hand.

  "Barbee says you want me, Steve?" said Royce from the threshold. "An'that Blenham's here?"

  "Yes, Bill," Steve answered. And to Barbee, "Close the door behindyou. Lock it. Give me the key. Now fasten the shutters across bothwindows."

  Barbee obeyed silently. Blenham's eyes followed him, seemingfascinated by the whip in Barbee's hand.

  "Listen a minute, Bill," said Steve when Barbee had done. "I want totell you something."

  And, as briefly as might be, he told Royce of the ten dollar billssubstituted for the real legacy, of the results of his evening in RedCreek, of Barbee's trapping Blenham, of the recovery of the tenthousand dollars, of a horse shot dead on the Red Creek road.

  "Then," said Royce at the end of it, his mind catching eagerly oneoutstanding fact, "I was right, Steve? An' it was Blenham as gave meboth barrels of Johnny Mills's shot-gun? It was Blenham for sure,wasn't it, Steve?"

  "Yes, Bill. It was Blenham."

  "An'--an' Blenham's right across there now? It's him I can hearbreathin', Steve?"

  "Yes, Bill."

  "An'--an' what for did you sen' for me, Steve? What are you goin' todo to him?"

  Packard beckoned to Barbee. The boy came quickly to his side, givinghim the blacksnake. Steve laid it across Bill Royce's hand.

  "I'm going to give him a taste of that, Bill," he said. "And I wantedyou here. You can't see it; but before I am through with him, you canhear it!"

  "Goin' to tie him up an' whip him, Steve? That it?"

  "Pack of low-bred mongrel pups!" cried Blenham wrathfully, for thefirst time breaking his silence. "Sneakin', low-lived curs an'cowards!"

  "That it, Steve?" persisted Royce. "Goin' to tie him up an' give him awhippin' with a blacksnake?"

  "I am going to whip him--for your sake, Bill," answered Steve sternly.

  He threw off his coat, tossing it behind him.

  "Get the chairs and table out of the way, Barbee! No, I am not goingto tie him up; that isn't necessary, Bill. I can handle him with myhands without tying him; I am going to do it. And then I am going totake the whip and lay it across him until his hide is in strips--oruntil he begs to be let go. Ready, Blenham?"

  "Mean that?" snarled Blenham, a new look in his eye. "Mean you'regoin' to give me an even break?"

  But Bill Royce, fairly trembling with an eagerness strange to him, hadclutched at Steve's arm, had found it, was holding him back, crying outexcitedly:

  "You're a good pal, Stevie; you're the best pal as ever was an' I knowit! Didn't I always know you'd be like this? But can't you see,Stevie, can't you see it ain't enough another man should lick him, evenwhen that man's my pardner, even when it's Stevie himself doin' it!Ain't I been waitin' an' waitin' to get my hands on him!"

  Blenham, a little comforted by Steve's words, jeered openly now.

  "Come on, Blind Billy," he taunted. "An' when I've throwed you intothe junk pile I'll take on your friends! One at the time--you know howthe sayin' goes!"

  Steve was shaking Royce's hand from his arm.

  "Let me do this for you, Bill," he said firmly. "It's only fair. Ifyou could see, it would be different."

  But Royce clung on desperately, crying out insistently:

  "Blind as I am I can lick him! I know I can lick him! Ain't I done itin my sleep a dozen times, a dozen ways? Ain't I always promisedmyself sometime I'd get him in my two hands, I'd feel him wriggle an'squirm? This is my fight, Steve, an'--Blenham, where are you?"

  "Here!" cried Blenham. "An' gettin' tired of waitin'!"

  Royce plunged toward him. But Steve Packard caught his old friendabout the body, holding him back a moment.

  "Easy, Bill," he said gently. "Easy. I was wrong, you are right.It's your fight. But take your time. Get your coat off. Barbee,stand by that window there; if Blenham tries to get out stop him. I'llstand here. All ready, Bill?"

  "Ready!" cried Royce, his voice a roar of eagerness.

  "All ready, Blenham?"

  "Ain't I said it?" jeered Blenham.

  "Then--" and suddenly Steve had snatched up the lamp, blowing down thechimney and plunging the room into thick darkness--"go to it! Thelight is out, Bill! The room is pitch-black. You're as well off as heis. And now, old pardner. Now!"

  It was suddenly very still in the room; the thick, impenetrabledarkness seemed almost a palpable curtain screening what went forward;the silence was for a little literally breathless.

  Then there came the first faint, tell-tale sound, the slow, torturedcreaking of a board as a man put his weight upon it. Through thedarkness, across the room, Bill Royce was going slowly, questing theman who, surprised by the action of Steve's which had reduced hisadvantage over a blind man, held to his corner. And then, strangersound still through that tense silence, came Bill Royce's low laugh.

  "Good boy, Steve," he said softly. "I'd never thought of that! In thedark Blenham's as blind as me! How do you like it, Blenham? How'd youlike to have it this way all the time?"

  Blenham's only answer lay in his leaping forward, out from his corner,and striking; Royce's answer to that was another quiet laugh. He hadslipped aside; Blenham had flailed at the thin air; Royce, grown stillagain, knew one of the moments of sheer joy which had been his duringthese last weary months.

  Packard and Barbee, frowning unavailingly toward each little noise,could only guess at what went forward so few inches from them. Ascraping foot might be either Royce's or Blenham's; a long, deep sighor quick breathing now here, now there, might emanate from either man.The strange thing, thought both Barbee and Packard, was that even tenseconds could pass without these two men at each other's throats.

  But, a supreme moment his at last, Bill Royce found himself grownmiserly in its expenditure; he would dribble the golden seconds throughhis fingers, he would draw out the experience, tasting its joy fully.

  For the moment his blindness was no greater than Blenham's; for alittle Blenham would grope and wonder and hesitate and grow tense afterthe fashion the blind man knew so well. And then at the end, when anend could no longer be delayed, Bill Royce would mete out thelong-delayed punishment.

  But, since the natures of both men were downright, since their hatredswere outright, since there was little of finesse in either and a greatimpatience stirring both, Royce's playing with Blenham was short.

  There came a sudden shuffling of feet--and Royce's laugh; a blowlanding heavily--and Royce's laugh; another blow, a grunt, and a pantedcurse from Blenham--and Royce's laugh.

  And then only a scraping of feet up and down, back and forth along thebare floor, the thudding of heavy shoulders into an unexpected wall,the impact of fist against body. In the utter darkness the two mengripped each other, struck, swayed together, staggered apart, only tocome together again to strike harder, more merciless blows.

  Packard and Barbee now held their breaths while the others pantedfreely; both Packard and Barbee, stepping quickly now this way and nowthat as the battling forms swayed up and down, sought to gauge what washappening by the sounds which came to their ears.

  Muttered imprecations, scuffling feet in a rude dance of rage, anotherheavy, thudding blow, a coughing curse. Whose? Blenham's, since afterit came Bill Royce's laugh. Another blow, fresh pounding and scrapingof boots--blow on top of blow, curse on top of curse--a man fallingheavily----

  Who was down? Royce of Blenham?

  "Bill!" called Packard. "Bill!"

  No answer save that of two big bodies rolling together on the floor.Both were down, Royce and Blenham. Both were fighting, wordless andinfuriated. Who was on top?

  No man on top long, no man under the other more than a second. Therolling bodies struck against Packard's leg and he
drew back, givingthem room. The dust puffing up from the floor filled his nostrils.The room was becoming unendurably close, sickeningly close. The sweatmust be streaming from both men by now. Packard sniffed, fancying theacrid smell of fresh blood. The big bulks rolled and threshed andwhipped here and there----

  "Hell!"

  It was a cry of mingled rage and pain; it came bursting explosivelyfrom Blenham's lips. Royce's laugh followed it; Packard shivered.

  "Bill!" he cried. "Bill!"

  Royce did not answer; perhaps for the very good reason that he did nothear. There were other matters now engaging his attention solely andexclusively. The fighting fury, the hate frenzy was riding him and hein turn was riding his enemy. Cool sanity and hot blood-lust do notfind places side by side in the same brain. A second time came thehorrible cry from Blenham. Packard struck a match hastily and lightedthe lamp.

  Packard and Barbee together dragged Royce away, letting Blenham liethere. Both men were naked to their waists, their shirts andundershirts in rags and strips hanging grotesquely about their hips;Royce looked like some hideously painted burlesque of a ballet-dancerin a comic skirt. Only there was nothing of burlesque or comedy in hisface.

  Packard, glancing from him down to the tortured body of Blenham thatbreathed jerkily, noisily, turned with a sudden revulsion of feelingand hurled the heavy blacksnake away from him. He had not fancied thesharp smell of fresh blood.

  "I got him!" said Royce shakily. "With my two hands, I got him!Didn't I, Stevie?"

  "Better than you know, Bill!" muttered Packard. "Better than you know."

  The thing had been an accident, at least in so far as Bill Royce'sintent was concerned. Packard knew that; he knew that his old pardnerfought hard, fought mercilessly, but fought fair. But in a largersense was it an accident? Or rather a mere retributive punishmentdecreed by an eternal justice? There in the pitch dark, for no man tosee the how of it, this is perhaps what had happened:

  There had been the old, long-rowelled Mexican spur hanging on the wall;Royce's shoulder or Blenham's had knocked it down; their feet hadpushed it out to the middle of the floor. They had fallen, together,heavily; they had rolled. Blenham had gone over on his face, Royce'shands worrying him. The spur----

  But it mattered little how it had come about. The result was thething. Blenham would never see with his right eye again.