Kindred of the Dust Read online

  XII

  Daney readily discovered in a pool-hall the man he sought. "Dirty Dan"O'Leary was a chopper in the McKaye employ, and had earned hissobriquet, not because he was less cleanly than the average lumberjackbut because he was what his kind described as a "dirty" fighter. Thatis to say, when his belligerent disposition led him into battle, whichit frequently did, Mr. O'Leary's instinct was to win, quickly anddecisively, and without consideration of the niceties of combat, for aprimitive person was Dirty Dan. Fast as a panther, he was as equallyproficient in the use of all his extremities, and, if hard pressed,would use his teeth. He was a stringy, big-boned man of six feet, andmuch too tall for his weight, wherefore belligerent strangers weresometimes led to the erroneous conclusion that Mr. O'Leary would notbe hard to upset. In short, he was a wild, bad Irishman who had gottenimmovably fixed in his head an idea that old Hector McKaye was a"gr-rand gintleman," and a gr-rand gintleman was one of the threethings that Dirty Dan would fight for, the other two being hispersonal safety and the love of battle.

  Daney drew Dirty Dan out of the pool-hall and explained the situationto him. The knowledge that The Laird had, in his extremity, placedreliance on him moved Dirty Dan to the highest pitch of enthusiasm andloyalty. He pursed his lips, winked one of his piggy eyes craftily,and, without wasting time in words of assurance, set forth in searchof the man he was to follow and protect. Presently he saw Donaldentering the butcher shop; so he stationed himself across the streetand watched the young laird of Tyee purchase a fowl and walk out withit under his arm. Keeping his man dimly in view through the gloom,Dirty Dan, from the opposite side of the street, followed on velvetfeet to the outskirts of the town, where Donald turned and took a paththrough some vacant lots, arriving at last at the Sawdust Pile. DirtyDan heard him open and close the gate to Caleb Brent's garden.

  "Oh, ho, the young divil!" Dirty Dan murmured, and immediately leftthe path, padding softly out into the grass in order that, when thedoor of Caleb Brent's house should be opened, the light from withinmight not shine forth and betray him. After traversing a dozen steps,he lay down in the grass and set himself patiently to await thereappearance of his quarry.

  In response to several clearly audible knocks, the front door failedto open, and Dirty Dan heard Don walk round the house to the backdoor.

  "The young divil!" he reiterated to himself. "Faith, whin the cat'saway the mice'll play, an' divil a worrd o' lie in that! Begorra, I'mthinkin' the ould gintleman'd be scandalized could he know where hisdarlin' bhoy is this minute--here, wait a minute Daniel, ye gossoon.Maybe, 'tis for this I've been sint to watch the lad an' not for toprotect him. If it is, faith 'tis a job I'm not wishful for, shpyin'on me own boss." He pondered the matter. Then: "Well, sorra wan o' meknows. What if the young fella do be in love wit' her an' his fatherhave wind of it! Eh? What thin, Daniel? A scandal, that's what, an',be the toe-nails o' Moses, nayther The Laird nor his son can affordthat. I'll take note o' what happens, but, be the same token, 'tis notto Misther Daney I'll make me report, but to the ould man himself.Sh--what's that?"

  His ear being close to the ground, Dirty Dan had caught the sound ofslow, cautious footsteps advancing along the little path. He flattenedhimself in the grass and listened, the while he hoped fervently thatthose who walked the path (for he knew now there were more than one)would not leave it as he had done and at the same point. Should theyinadvertently tread upon him, Dirty Dan felt that the honor of theMcKaye family and the maintenance of the secret of his presentemployment would demand instant and furious battle--on suspicion.

  The unknown pedestrians paused in the path.

  "Ah done tol' you-all Ah'm right," Dirty Dan heard one of them say.

  "Ha!" thought Dirty Dan. "A dirrty black naygur! I can tell be thev'ice of him."

  One of his companions grunted, and another said, in accents which theastute Mr. O'Leary correctly judged to be those of a foreigner of somesort:

  "All right. W'en he's come out, we jumpa right here. Wha's matter,eh?"

  "Suits me," the negro replied. "Let's set down, an' fo' de Lawd'ssake, keep quite 'twell he come."

  Dirty Dan heard them move off to the other side of the path and sitdown in the grass.

  "So 'tis that big buck yeller naygur from Darrow an' two o' theGreeks," he mused. "An' God knows I never did like fightin' in thedark. They'll knife me as sure as pussy is a cat."

  Decidedly, the prospect did not appeal to Dirty Dan. However, he hadhis orders to protect The Laird's son; he had his own peculiar notionsof honor, and in his wild Irish heart there was not one drop of cravenblood. So presently, with the stealth of an animal, he crawledsoundlessly away until he judged it would be safe for him to stand upand walk, which he did with infinite caution.

  He reached the gate, passed like a wraith through it, and round to theside of Caleb Brent's home, in momentary dread of discovery by a dog.He breathed a sigh of relief when, the outcry failing to materialize,he decided the Brents were too poor to maintain a dog; whereupon hefilled his pipe, lighted it, leaned up against the house, and, for thespace of an hour, stood entranced, for from Caleb Brent's poor shantythere floated the voice of an angel, singing to the notes of a piano.

  "Glory be!" murmured the amazed Daniel. "Sure, if that's what theyoung fella hears whin he calls, divil a bit do I blame him. Oh, theshweet v'ice of her--an' singin' 'The Low-backed Car'!"

  Despite the wicked work ahead of him, Dirty Dan was glad of the illfortune which had sent him hither. He had in full measure the Gael'slove of music, and when, at length, the singing ceased and reluctantlyhe made up his mind that the concert was over, he was thrilled to apoint of exaltation.

  "Begorra, I didn't expect to be piped into battle," he reflectedhumorously--and sought the Brent wood-pile, in which he poked untilhis hard hands closed over a hard, sound, round piece of wood aboutthree feet long. He tested it across his knee, swung it over his head,and decided it would do.

  "Now thin, for the surprise party," he reflected grimly, and walkedboldly to the gate, which he opened and closed with sufficient vigorto advertise his coming, even if his calked boots on the hard path hadnot already heralded his advance. However, Dirty Dan desired to makecertain; so he pursed his lips and whistled softly the opening bars of"The Low-backed Car" in the hope that the lilting notes would stillfurther serve to inculcate in the lurking enemy the impression that hewas a lover returning well content from his tryst. As he saunteredalong, he held his bludgeon in readiness while his keen eyessearched--and presently he made out the cronching figures.

  "The naygur first--to hold me, whilst the Greeks slip a dirk in me,"he decided shrewdly.

  He heard the scuttering rush start, and, with the shock of combat, hiscarefully prearranged plan of battle quite fled his mercurial mind. Hemet the charge with a joyous screech, forgot that he had a club, andkicked viciously out with his right foot. His heavy logger's bootsconnected with something soft and yielding, which instinct told Mr.O'Leary was an abdomen; instinct, coupled with experience, informedhim further that no man could assimilate that mighty kick in theabdomen and yet remain perpendicular, whereupon. Dirty Dan leaped highin the air and came down with both terrible calked boots on somethingwhich gave slightly under him and moaned. On the instant, he receiveda light blow in the breast and knew he had been stabbed.

  He remembered his club now; as he backed away swiftly, he swung it,and, from the impact, concluded he had struck a neck or shoulder. Thatwas the luck of night-fighting; so, with a bitter curse, Dirty Danswung again, in the pious hope of connecting with a skull; he scored aclean miss and was, by the tremendous force of his swing, turnedcompletely round. Before he could recover his balance, a hand graspedhis ankle and he came down heavily on his face; instantly, hisassailant's knees were pressed into his back. With a mighty heave hesought to free himself, at the same time flinging both long legsupward, after the fashion of one who strives to kick himself in thesmall of the back; whereupon a knife drove deep into his instep, andhe realized he had not acted a spli
t second too soon to save himselffrom a murderous thrust in the kidneys--a Greek's favorite blow.

  In battle, Dirty Dan's advantage lay always in his amazing speed andthe terrible fury of his attack during the first five minutes. Even ashe threw up his feet, he drew back, an elbow and crashed it into hisenemy's ribs; like a flash, his arm straightened, and his sinewy handclosed over the wrist of an arm that struggled in vain to strikedownward. Holding that wrist securely, Dirty Dan heaved upward, gothis left elbow under his body, and rested a few moments; anothermighty heave, and he tossed off the Greek, and, whirling with thespeed of a pin-wheel, was on top of his man. He had momentarilyreleased his hold on the Greek's wrist, however, and he had to fightfor another hold now--in the dark. Presently he captured it, twistedthe arm in the terrible hammer-lock, and broke it; then, while theGreek lay writhing in agony, Mr. O'Leary leaped to his feet andcommenced to play with his awful boots a devil's tattoo on thatportion of his enemy's superstructure so frequently alluded to inpugilistic circles as "the slats." After five or six kicks, however,he paused, due to a difficulty in breathing; so he struck a match andsurveyed the stricken field.

  The big mulatto and two Greeks, lay unconscious before him; in thenickering light of the match, two blood-stained dirks gleamed in thegrass, so, with a minute attention to detail, Dirty Dan possessedhimself of these weapons, picked up his club, and, reasoning shrewdlythat Donald McKaye's enemies had had enough combat for a few weeks atleast, the dauntless fellow dragged the fallen clear of the path, inorder that his youthful master might not stumble over them on his wayhome, and then disappeared into the night. Half an hour later, smearedwith dust and blood, he crawled up the steps of the Tyee LumberCompany's hospital on his hands and knees and rapped feebly on thefront door. The night nurse came out and looked him over.

  "I'm Dirty Dan O'Leary," he wheezed; "I've been fightin' agin."

  The nurse called the doctor and two orderlies, and they carried himinto the operating-room.

  "I'm not the man I used to be," Dirty Dan whispered, "but glory be, yeshould see the other fellers." He opened his hand, and twoblood-stained clasp-knives rolled out; he winked knowingly, andindulged in humorous reminiscences of the combat while he was beingexamined.

  "You're cut to strings and ribbons, Dan," the doctor informed him,"and they've stuck you in the left lung. You've lost a lot of blood.We may pull you through, but I doubt it."

  "Very well," the demon replied composedly.

  "Telephone Judge Alton to come and get his dying statement," thedoctor ordered the nurse, but Dirty Dan raised a deprecating hand.

  "'Twas a private, personal matther," he declared. "'Twas settledsatisfacthory. I'll not die, an' I'll talk to no man but MistherDaney. Sew me up an' plug me lung, an' be quick about it, Docthor."

  When Andrew Daney came, summoned by telephone, Dirty Dan ordered allothers from the room, and Daney saw that the door was closed tightlyafter them. Then he bent over Dirty Dan.

  "Where's Donald?" he demanded.

  "That's neither here nor there, sir," Mr. O'Leary replied evasively."He's safe, an' never knew they were afther him. T'ree o' thim, sir,the naygur and two Greeks. I kidded thim into thinkin' I was MistherMcKaye; 'tis all over now, an' ye can find out what two Greeks it wasby those knives I took for evidence. I cannot identify thim, but go upto Darrow in the mornin' an' look for a spreckled mulatter, wan Greekwit' a broken right arm, an' another wit' a broken neck, but until Idie, do nothin'. If I get well, tell them to quit Darrow for goodagin' the day I come out o' the hospital. Good-night to you, sir, an'thank ye for callin'."

  From the hospital, Andrew Daney, avoiding the lighted main street,hastened to the Sawdust Pile. A light still burned in Caleb Brent'scottage; so Daney stood aloof in the vacant lot and waited. About teno'clock, the front door opened, and, framed in the light of thedoorway, the general manager saw Donald McKaye, and beside him NanBrent.

  "Until to-morrow at five, Donald, since you will persist in beingobstinate," he heard Nan say, as they reached the gate and pausedthere. "Good-night, dear."

  Andrew Daney waited no longer, but turned and fled into the darkness.