hr.thecarpetbaggers-第16部分

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　〃No　they　won't；〃　she　said　with　woman's　logic。　〃They　got　to　stop　to　sleep；　too。　They　won't　be　any　further　ahead　of　you　then　than　they　are　right　now。〃
　She　closed　the　door　behind　him　and　led　him　over　to　the　table。　She　pushed　him　into　a　chair　and　placed　a　plate　of　soup　in　front　of　him。　Automatically　he　began　to　eat。　
　〃I'll　go　outside　an'　unhitch　the　team；〃　Mr。　Olsen　said。　
　When　he　came　back　into　the　house；　Max　was　sleeping；　his　head　resting　in　his　crossed　arms　on　the　table。
　Mrs。　Olsen　gestured　her　husband　to　silence。　〃You　just　can't　let　him　go　after　those　men　by　himself；〃　she　whispered。　
　〃I　got　to　go；　ma'am。〃　Max's　voice　came　over　her　shoulder。　
　She　turned　around　and　looked　at　him。　〃You　can't；〃　she　cried　out。　〃They're　grown　men　an'　they'll　hurt　you。　Why；　you're　just　a　boy！〃
　He　looked　up　into　her　face　and　she　was　aware　for　the　first　time　of　the　pride　that　glowed　deep　in　those　dark…blue　eyes。　〃They　hurt　me　all　they're　goin'　to；　ma'am；〃　he　said。　〃I'm　'bout　sixteen；　an'　with　my　mother's　people；　a　boy　ain't　a　boy　no　more　once　he's　sixteen。　He's　a　man。〃
　On　his　second　day　out　of　Dodge；　he　slowed　his　pinto　to　a　walk　and　studied　the　side　of　the　road　carefully。　After　a　few　minutes；　he　stopped　and　dismounted。　He　looked　along　the　edge　of　the　road　carefully。
　The　four　horses　had　stopped　here。　They　had　milled　around　for　a　little　while　and　then　two　of　them　had　gone　back　onto　the　road　toward　Virginia　City。　The　other　two　had　gone　eastward　across　the　plains。
　He　remounted　and　rode　along　the　plains；　his　eyes　searching　out　the　trail　until　he　found　what　he　was　looking　for。　One　of　the　horses　had　been　his　father's。　He　recognized　the　shoe　marking　in　the　soft　earth。　It　was　lighter　than　the　other　marking；　which　meant　he　was　not　being　ridden；　but　led。　It　also　meant　that　the　man　up　ahead　must　have　been　the　leader；　otherwise　they　wouldn't　have　let　him　take　the　horse；　which　was　the　most　valuable　thing　they　had　stolen。
　A　few　miles　farther　along　the　trail；　he　saw　some　horse　droppings。　He　stopped　his　horse　and　jumped　down。　He　kicked　at　the　dung　with　his　foot。　It　was　not　more　than　seven　hours　old。　They　had　wasted　more　time　along　the　trail　than　he'd　thought　they　would。　He　got　back　on　the　pinto　and　pushed　on。
　He　rode　most　of　that　night；　following　the　trail　in　the　bright　moonlight。　By　the　evening　of　the　next　day；　he　was　less　than　an　hour　behind　his　quarry。
　He　looked　up　at　the　sky。　It　was　about　seven　o'clock　and　would　be　dark　soon。　The　man　would　be　stopping　to　make　camp　if　he　hadn't　already。　Max　got　off　his　horse　and　waited　for　night　to　fall。
　While　he　sat　there；　he　cut　a　forked　branch　from　a　scrub　tree　and　fitted　a　round　stone　onto　it。　Then　he　bound　the　stone　to　the　crotch　with　thin　strips　of　leather；　winding　them　down　the　branch　to　make　a　handle。　When　he　was　finished；　he　had　a　war　club　as　good　as　any　he'd　learned　to　make　the　summer　he　spent　with　the　Kiowa。
　It　was　dark　then　and　he　got　to　his　feet；　fastening　the　club　to　his　belt。　He　took　the　horse　by　the　halter　and　started　forward　cautiously　on　foot。
　He　walked　slowly；　his　ears　alert　for　any　strange　sound；　his　nostrils　sniffing　at　the　breeze　for　the　scent　of　a　campfire。
　He　was　in　luck；　for　he　caught　the　scent　of　the　campfire　from　about　a　quarter　mile　away。　He　tied　the　pinto　to　a　bush　and　pulled　the　rifle　from　the　pack　on　the　horse's　back。　Silently　he　moved　forward。
　The　whinny　of　a　horse　came　to　his　ears　and　he　dropped　to　the　ground　and　peered　forward。　He　figured　the　horses　were　tied　about　three　hundred　yards　ahead　of　him。　He　looked　for　the　campfire　but　couldn't　find　it。
　Cautiously　he　made　his　way　downwind　from　the　horses　in　a　wide　circle。　The　smell　of　the　campfire　was　strong　in　his　nostrils　now。　He　raised　his　head　from　the　tall　plain　grass。　The　campfire　was　about　two　hundred　yards　in　front　of　him。　He　could　see　the　man；　sitting　hunched　over　it；　eating　from　a　frying　pan。　The　man　was　no　fool。　He　had　picked　a　camp　site　between　two　rocks。　That　way；　he　could　be　approached　only　from　in　front。
　Max　sank　back　into　the　grass。　He　would　have　to　wait　until　the　man　was　asleep。　He　stretched　out　and　looked　up　at　the　sky。　When　the　moon　was　up；　a　few　hours　from　now；　it　would　be　time　for　him　to　move。　Until　then；　it　would　do　no　harm　for　him　to　rest。　He　closed　his　eyes。　In　a　moment；　he　was　sleeping　soundly。
　His　eyes　opened　suddenly　and　he　stared　straight　up　at　the　moon。　It　hung　white　and　high　in　the　sky　over　him。　He　sat　up　slowly　and　peered　over　the　grass。
　The　campfire　was　glowing　faintly　now；　dying　slowly。　He　could　see　the　shadow　of　the　man　lying　near　the　rocks。　He　started　to　inch　forward。　The　man　snored　lightly　and　turned　in　his　sleep。　Max　froze　for　a　moment；　then　the　figure　was　still　again　and　Max　inched　forward　a　little　farther。　He　could　see　the　man's　outstretched　hand；　a　gun　at　the　tip　of　the　fingers。
　He　crawled　around　behind　and　picked　up　a　small　pebble　from　the　ground　beside　him。　Silently　he　took　the　war　club　from　his　belt　and　got　up　into　a　half　crouch。　Holding　his　breath　in　tightly；　he　threw　the　stone　near　the　man's　feet。
　With　a　muttered　curse；　he　sat　up；　looking　forward；　his　gun　in　his　hand。　He　never　knew　what　hit　him　as　Max　brought　the　war　club　down　on　his　head　from　behind。
　Max　came　back　with　the　pinto　about　the　time　that　dawn　was　breaking　in　the　east。　He　tied　his　horse　to　the　scrub　near　the　others　and　walked　back　to　look　at　the　man。
　His　eyes　were　still　closed。　He　was　breathing　evenly　though　there　was　a　smear　of　blood　along　his　cheek　and　ear　where　the　club　had　caught　him。　He　lay　naked　on　his　back　on　the　ground；　his　arms　and　legs　outstretched　tautly；　staked　to　the　ground。
　Max　sat　down　on　the　rock　and　began　to　whet　his　knife　along　its　smooth　surface。　When　the　sun　came　up；　the　man　opened　his　eyes。　They　were　dull　at　first；　then　gradually　they　began　to　clear。　He　tried　to　sit　up　and　became　aware　that　he　was　tied　down。　He　twisted　his　head　and　looked　at　Max。　
　〃What's　the　idee？〃　he　asked。
　Max　stared　at　him。　He　didn't　stop　whetting　his　knife。　〃I'm　Max　Sand；〃　he　said。　〃Remember　me？〃
　Max　walked　over　to　him。　He　stood　there　looking　down；　the　knife　held　loosely　in　his　hand。　There　was　a　sick　feeling　inside　him　as　he　looked　at　the　man　and　pictured　what　must　have　happened　in　the　cabin。　The　image　chased　the　feeling　from　him。　When　he　spoke；　his　voice　was　calm　and　emotionless。　〃Why　did　you　kill　my　folks？〃
　〃I　didn't　do　nothing　to　them；〃　the　man　said；　his　eyes　watching　the　knife。　
　〃You　got　my　pa's　hoss　out　there。〃　
　〃He　sol'　it　to　me；〃　the　man　replied。　
　〃Pa　wouldn'　sell　the　on'y　hoss　he　had；〃　Max　said。
　〃Let　me　up　outa　here；〃　the　man　screamed　suddenly。　
　Max　held　the　knife　to　the　man's　throat。　〃You　want　to　tell　me　what　happened？〃
　〃The　others　did　it！〃　the　man　screamed。　〃I　had　nothin'　to　do　with　it。　They　wanted　the　gold！〃　His　eyes　bugged　out　hysterically。　In　his　fear；　he　began　to　urinate；　the　water　trickling　down　his　bare　legs。　〃Le'　me　go；　you　crazy　Injun　bastard！〃　he　screamed。
　Max　moved　swiftly　now。　All　the　hesitation　that　he　had　felt　was　gone。　He　was　the　son　of　Red　Beard　and　Kaneha　and　inside　him　was　the　terrible　vengeance　of　the　Indian。　His　knife　flashed　bright　in　the　morning　sun　and　when　he　straightened　up　the　man　was　silent。
　Max　looked　down　impassively。　The　man　had　only　fainted；　even　though　his　eyes　stared　upward；　open　and　unseeing。　His　eyelids　had　been　slit　so　they　could　never　again　be　closed　and　the　flesh　hung　like　strips　of　ribbon　down　his　body　from　his　shoulders　to　his　thighs。
　Max　turned　and　walked　until　he　found　an　anthill。　He　scooped　the　top　of　it　up　in　his　hands　and　went　back　to　the　man。　Carefully　he　set　it　down　on　the　man's　pubis。　In　a　moment；　the　tiny　red　ants　were　everywhere　on　the　man。　They　ran　into　all　the　blood…sweetened　crevices　of　his　body；　up　across　his　eyes　and　into　his　open　mouth　and　nostrils。
　The　man　began　to　cough　and　moan。　His　body　stirred。　Silently　Max　watched　him。　This　was　the　Indian　punishment　for　a　thief；　rapist　and　murderer。
　It　took　the　man　three　days　to　die。　Three　days　of　the　blazing　sun　burning　into　his　open　eyes　and　blistering　his　torn　flesh　while　the　ants　industriously　foraged　his　body。　Three　days　of　screaming　for　water　and　three　nights　of　agony　as　insects　and　mosquitoes；　drawn　by　the　scent　of　blood；　came　to　feast　upon　him。
　At　the　end；　he　was　out　of　his　mind；　and　on　the　fourth　morning；　when　Max　came　down　to　look　at　him；　he　was　dead。　Max　stared　at　him　for　a　moment；　then　took　out　his　knife　and　lifted　his　scalp。
　He　went　back　to　the　horses　and　mounted　his　pinto。　Leading　the　other　two　animals；　he　turned　and　rode　north　toward　the　land　of　the　Kiowa。
　The　old　chief；　his　grandfather；　came　out　of　his　tepee　to　watch　him　as　he　dismounted。　He　waited　silently　until　Max　came　up　to　him。
　Max　looked　into　the　eyes　of　the　old　man。　〃I　e　in　sadness　to　the　tents　of　my　people；〃　he　said　in　Kiowa。
　The　chief　did　not　speak。
　〃My　father　and　mother　are　dead；〃　he　continued。
　The　chief　still　did　not　speak。
　Max　reached　to　his　belt　and　took　off　the　scalp　that　hung　there。　He　threw　it　down　in　front　of　the　chief。　〃I　have　taken　the　scalp　of　one　of　the　murderers；〃　he　said。　〃And　I　e　to　the　tent　of　my　grandfather；　the　mighty　chief；　to　spend　the　time　of　my　sorrow。〃
　The　chief　looked　down　at　the　scalp；　then　up　at　Max。　〃We　are　no　lon