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The Night Horseman by Max Brand, CHAPTER XXII. PATIENCE

CHAPTER XXII. PATIENCE

There is one patience greater than the endurance of the cat at the hole of the mouse or the wolf which waits for the moose to drop, and that is the patience of the thinking man; the measure of the Hindoo's moveless contemplation of Nirvana is not in hours but in weeks or even in months. Randall Byrne sat at his sentinel post with his hands folded and his grave eyes steadily fixed before him, and for hour after hour he did not move. Though the wind rose, now and again, and whistled through the upper chambers or mourned down the empty halls, Randall Byrne did not stir so much as an eyelash in observance. Two things held him fascinated. One was the girl who had passed up yonder stairs so wearily without a single backward glance at him; the other was the silent battle which went on in the adjoining room. Now and then his imagination wandered away to secondary pictures. He would see Barry meeting Buck Daniels, at last, and striking him down as remorselessly as the hound strikes the hare; or he would see him riding back towards Elkhead and catch a bright, sad vision of Kate Cumberland waving a careless adieu to him, and then hear her singing carelessly as she turned away. Such pictures as these, however, came up but rarely in the mind of Byrne. Mostly he thought of the stranger leaning over the body of old Joe Cumberland, reviving him, storing him with electric energy, paying back, as it were, some ancient debt. And he thought of the girl as she had turned at the landing place of the stairs, her head fallen; and he thought of her lying in her bed, with her arm under the mass of bright hair, trying to sleep, very tired, but remorsely held awake by that same power which was bringing Joe Cumberland back from the verge of death.

It was all impossible. This thing could not be. It was really as bad as the yarn of the Frankenstein monster. He considered how it would seem in print, backed by his most solemn asseverations, and then he saw the faces of the men who associated with him, pale thoughtful faces striving to conceal their smiles and their contempt. But always he came back, like the desperate hare doubling on his course, upon the picture of Kate Cumberland there at the turning of the stairs, and that bent, bright head which confessed defeat. The man had forgotten her. It made Byrne open his eyes in incredulity even to imagine such a thing. The man had forgotten her! She was no more to him than some withered hag he might ride past on the road.

His ear, subconsciously attentive to everything around him, caught a faint sound from the next room. It was a regular noise. It had the rhythm of a quick footfall, but in its nature it was more like the sound of a heavily beating pulse. Randall Byrne sat up in his chair. A faint creaking attested that it was, indeed, a footfall traversing the room to and fro, steadily.

The stranger, then, no longer leaned over the couch of the old cattleman. He was walking up and down the floor with that characteristic, softly padding step. Of what did he think as he walked? It carried Byrne automatically out into the darkest night, with a wind in his face, and the rhythm of a long striding horse carrying him on to a destination unknown.

Here he heard a soft scratching, repeated, at the door. When it came again he rose and opened the door—at once the tall, shaggy dog slipped through the opening and glided past him. It startled Byrne oddly to see the animal stealing away, as if Barry himself had been leaving. He called to the beast, but he was met by a silent baring of white fangs that stopped him in his tracks. The great dog was gone without a sound, and Byrne closed the door again without casting a look inside. He was stupidly, foolishly afraid to look within.

After that the silence had a more vital meaning. No pictures crowded his brain. He was simply keyed to a high point of expectancy, and therefore, when the door was opened silently, he sprang up as if in acknowledgment of an alarm and faced Barry. The latter closed the door behind him and glided after the big dog. He had almost crossed the big room when Byrne was able to speak.

"Mr. Barry!" he called.

The man hesitated.

"Mr. Barry," he repeated. And Dan Barry turned. It was something like the act of the wolf the moment before; a swift movement—a flash of the eyes in something like defiance.

"Mr. Barry, are you leaving us?" "I'm going outside." "Are you coming back?" "I dunno." A great joy swelled in the throat of Doctor Byrne. He felt like shouting in triumph; yet he remembered once more how the girl had gone up the stairs, wearily, with fallen head. He decided that he would do what he could to keep the stranger with them, and though Randall Byrne lived to be a hundred he would never do a finer thing than what he attempted then. He stepped across the room and stood before Barry, blocking the way.

"Sir," he said gravely, "if you go now, you will work a great sorrow in this house." A glint of anger rose in the eyes of Barry.

"Joe Cumberland is sleepin' soun'," he answered. "He'll be a pile rested when he wakes up. He don't need me no more." "He's not the only one who needs you," said Byrne. "His daughter has been waiting impatiently for your coming, sir." The sharp glance of Barry wavered away.

"I'd kind of like to stay," he murmured, "but I got to go." A dull voice called from the next room.

"It's Joe Cumberland," said Byrne. "You see, he is not sleeping!" The brow of Barry clouded, and he turned gloomily back.

"Maybe I better stay," he agreed. Yet before he made a step Byrne heard a far-away honking of the wild geese, that musical discord carrying for uncounted miles through the windy air. The sound worked like magic on Barry. He whirled back.

"I got to go," he repeated. And yet Byrne blocked the way. It required more courage to do that than to do anything he had ever attempted in his life. The sweat poured out from under his armpits as the stranger stepped near; the blood rushed from his face as he stared into the eyes of Barry—eyes which now held an uncanny glimmer of yellow light.

"Sir," said Byrne huskily, "you must not go! Listen! Old Cumberland is calling to you again! Does that mean nothing? If you have some errand out in the night, let me go for you." "Partner," said the soft voice of Barry, "stand aside. I got no time, I'm wanted!" Every muscle of Randall Byrne's body was set to repulse the stranger in any effort to pass through that door, and yet, mysteriously, against his will, he found himself standing to one side, and saw the other slip through the open door. "Dan! Are ye there?" called a louder voice from the room beyond.

There was no help for it. He, himself, must go back and face Joe Cumberland. With a lie, no doubt. He would say that Dan had stepped out for a moment and would be back again. That might put Cumberland safely to sleep. In the morning, to be sure, he would find out the deception—but let every day bury its dead. Here was enough trouble for one night. He went slowly, but steadily enough, towards the door of what had now become a fatal room to the doctor. In that room he had seen his dearest doctrines cremated. Out of that room he had come bearing the ashes of his hopes in his hands. Now he must go back once more to try to fill, with science, a gap of which science could never take cognizance.

He lingered another instant with his hand on the door; then he cast it wide bravely enough and stepped in. Joe Cumberland was sitting up on the edge of his couch. 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 XXII. PATIENCE ГЛАВА XXII. ТЕРПЕНИЕ

There is one patience greater than the endurance of the cat at the hole of the mouse or the wolf which waits for the moose to drop, and that is the patience of the thinking man; the measure of the Hindoo's moveless contemplation of Nirvana is not in hours but in weeks or even in months. Há uma paciência maior do que a paciência do gato na toca do rato ou do lobo que espera o alce cair, e essa é a paciência do homem que pensa; a medida da contemplação imóvel do Nirvana pelos hindus não está em horas, mas em semanas ou mesmo em meses. Randall Byrne sat at his sentinel post with his hands folded and his grave eyes steadily fixed before him, and for hour after hour he did not move. Randall Byrne estava sentado em seu posto de sentinela com as mãos cruzadas e os olhos sérios fixos diante dele, e por horas e horas ele não se mexeu. Though the wind rose, now and again, and whistled through the upper chambers or mourned down the empty halls, Randall Byrne did not stir so much as an eyelash in observance. Embora o vento aumentasse, de vez em quando, e assobiasse pelos aposentos superiores ou lamentasse nos corredores vazios, Randall Byrne não mexeu nem um cílio em observância. Two things held him fascinated. One was the girl who had passed up yonder stairs so wearily without a single backward glance at him; the other was the silent battle which went on in the adjoining room. Uma era a garota que havia passado as escadas tão cansadamente sem um único olhar para trás para ele; a outra era a batalha silenciosa que acontecia na sala ao lado. Now and then his imagination wandered away to secondary pictures. De vez em quando sua imaginação se desviava para imagens secundárias. He would see Barry meeting Buck Daniels, at last, and striking him down as remorselessly as the hound strikes the hare; or he would see him riding back towards Elkhead and catch a bright, sad vision of Kate Cumberland waving a careless adieu to him, and then hear her singing carelessly as she turned away. Ele veria Barry encontrando Buck Daniels, finalmente, e atacando-o tão impiedosamente quanto o cão ataca a lebre; ou ele o via cavalgando de volta para Elkhead e tinha uma visão brilhante e triste de Kate Cumberland acenando um adeus descuidado para ele, e então a ouvia cantando descuidadamente enquanto se virava. Such pictures as these, however, came up but rarely in the mind of Byrne. Imagens como essas, no entanto, apareciam raramente na mente de Byrne. Mostly he thought of the stranger leaning over the body of old Joe Cumberland, reviving him, storing him with electric energy, paying back, as it were, some ancient debt. Principalmente ele pensou no estranho debruçado sobre o corpo do velho Joe Cumberland, revivendo-o, armazenando-o com energia elétrica, pagando, por assim dizer, alguma dívida antiga. And he thought of the girl as she had turned at the landing place of the stairs, her head fallen; and he thought of her lying in her bed, with her arm under the mass of bright hair, trying to sleep, very tired, but remorsely held awake by that same power which was bringing Joe Cumberland back from the verge of death. E ele pensou na garota quando ela se virou no patamar da escada, com a cabeça caída; e ele pensou nela deitada em sua cama, com o braço sob a massa de cabelos brilhantes, tentando dormir, muito cansada, mas com remorso acordada pelo mesmo poder que estava trazendo Joe Cumberland de volta à beira da morte.

It was all impossible. Era tudo impossível. This thing could not be. It was really as bad as the yarn of the Frankenstein monster. Foi realmente tão ruim quanto a história do monstro Frankenstein. He considered how it would seem in print, backed by his most solemn asseverations, and then he saw the faces of the men who associated with him, pale thoughtful faces striving to conceal their smiles and their contempt. Ele pensou em como seria impresso, apoiado por suas afirmações mais solenes, e então viu os rostos dos homens que se associavam a ele, rostos pálidos e pensativos tentando esconder seus sorrisos e seu desprezo. But always he came back, like the desperate hare doubling on his course, upon the picture of Kate Cumberland there at the turning of the stairs, and that bent, bright head which confessed defeat. Mas ele sempre voltava, como a lebre desesperada dobrando seu curso, para a foto de Kate Cumberland ali na curva da escada, e aquela cabeça curvada e brilhante que confessava a derrota. The man had forgotten her. It made Byrne open his eyes in incredulity even to imagine such a thing. Isso fez Byrne abrir os olhos com incredulidade até mesmo ao imaginar tal coisa. The man had forgotten her! She was no more to him than some withered hag he might ride past on the road. Ela não era mais para ele do que uma bruxa murcha pela qual ele poderia passar na estrada.

His ear, subconsciously attentive to everything around him, caught a faint sound from the next room. It was a regular noise. It had the rhythm of a quick footfall, but in its nature it was more like the sound of a heavily beating pulse. Tinha o ritmo de um passo rápido, mas em sua natureza era mais como o som de uma pulsação forte. Randall Byrne sat up in his chair. Randall Byrne sentou-se na cadeira. A faint creaking attested that it was, indeed, a footfall traversing the room to and fro, steadily. Um leve rangido atestou que era, de fato, um passo atravessando a sala de um lado para o outro, com firmeza.

The stranger, then, no longer leaned over the couch of the old cattleman. O estranho, então, não se debruçou mais sobre o sofá do velho vaqueiro. He was walking up and down the floor with that characteristic, softly padding step. Ele estava andando para cima e para baixo no chão com aquele passo característico, suavemente acolchoado. Of what did he think as he walked? No que ele pensou enquanto caminhava? It carried Byrne automatically out into the darkest night, with a wind in his face, and the rhythm of a long striding horse carrying him on to a destination unknown. Ele carregou Byrne automaticamente para a noite mais escura, com um vento em seu rosto e o ritmo de um longo cavalo carregando-o para um destino desconhecido.

Here he heard a soft scratching, repeated, at the door. Aqui ele ouviu um suave arranhão, repetido, na porta. When it came again he rose and opened the door—at once the tall, shaggy dog slipped through the opening and glided past him. Quando ela voltou, ele se levantou e abriu a porta — imediatamente o cachorro alto e peludo deslizou pela abertura e passou por ele. It startled Byrne oddly to see the animal stealing away, as if Barry himself had been leaving. Surpreendeu Byrne estranhamente ao ver o animal se afastando, como se o próprio Barry estivesse partindo. He called to the beast, but he was met by a silent baring of white fangs that stopped him in his tracks. Ele chamou a fera, mas foi recebido por uma silenciosa exibição de presas brancas que o deteve em seu caminho. The great dog was gone without a sound, and Byrne closed the door again without casting a look inside. O grande cão se foi sem fazer barulho, e Byrne voltou a fechar a porta sem olhar para dentro. He was stupidly, foolishly afraid to look within. Ele estava estupidamente, estupidamente com medo de olhar para dentro.

After that the silence had a more vital meaning. Depois disso, o silêncio teve um significado mais vital. No pictures crowded his brain. Nenhuma imagem enchia seu cérebro. He was simply keyed to a high point of expectancy, and therefore, when the door was opened silently, he sprang up as if in acknowledgment of an alarm and faced Barry. Ele estava simplesmente ligado a um ponto alto de expectativa e, portanto, quando a porta foi aberta silenciosamente, ele se levantou como se estivesse reconhecendo um alarme e encarou Barry. The latter closed the door behind him and glided after the big dog. Este fechou a porta atrás de si e deslizou atrás do cachorro grande. He had almost crossed the big room when Byrne was able to speak.

"Mr. Barry!" he called.

The man hesitated.

"Mr. Barry," he repeated. And Dan Barry turned. It was something like the act of the wolf the moment before; a swift movement—a flash of the eyes in something like defiance. Foi algo como o ato do lobo no momento anterior; um movimento rápido — um lampejo de olhos em algo como um desafio.

"Mr. Barry, are you leaving us?" "I'm going outside." "Are you coming back?" "Você vai voltar?" "I dunno." A great joy swelled in the throat of Doctor Byrne. Uma grande alegria cresceu na garganta do doutor Byrne. He felt like shouting in triumph; yet he remembered once more how the girl had gone up the stairs, wearily, with fallen head. Sentiu vontade de gritar em triunfo; no entanto, ele se lembrou mais uma vez de como a garota havia subido as escadas, cansada, com a cabeça caída. He decided that he would do what he could to keep the stranger with them, and though Randall Byrne lived to be a hundred he would never do a finer thing than what he attempted then. Ele decidiu que faria o que pudesse para manter o estranho com eles, e embora Randall Byrne vivesse até os cem anos, nunca faria uma coisa melhor do que tentou então. He stepped across the room and stood before Barry, blocking the way.

"Sir," he said gravely, "if you go now, you will work a great sorrow in this house." "Senhor", ele disse gravemente, "se você for agora, vai trabalhar uma grande tristeza nesta casa." A glint of anger rose in the eyes of Barry. Um brilho de raiva surgiu nos olhos de Barry.

"Joe Cumberland is sleepin' soun'," he answered. "Joe Cumberland está dormindo muito bem", ele respondeu. "He'll be a pile rested when he wakes up. "Ele estará descansado quando acordar. He don't need me no more." "He's not the only one who needs you," said Byrne. "His daughter has been waiting impatiently for your coming, sir." The sharp glance of Barry wavered away. O olhar afiado de Barry vacilou.

"I'd kind of like to stay," he murmured, "but I got to go." A dull voice called from the next room. Uma voz monótona chamou da sala ao lado.

"It's Joe Cumberland," said Byrne. "You see, he is not sleeping!" The brow of Barry clouded, and he turned gloomily back. A testa de Barry ficou nublada, e ele se virou tristemente para trás.

"Maybe I better stay," he agreed. Yet before he made a step Byrne heard a far-away honking of the wild geese, that musical discord carrying for uncounted miles through the windy air. No entanto, antes de dar um passo, Byrne ouviu ao longe o grasnar dos gansos selvagens, aquela dissonância musical que se estendia por incontáveis quilômetros no ar ventoso. The sound worked like magic on Barry. He whirled back.

"I got to go," he repeated. And yet Byrne blocked the way. It required more courage to do that than to do anything he had ever attempted in his life. The sweat poured out from under his armpits as the stranger stepped near; the blood rushed from his face as he stared into the eyes of Barry—eyes which now held an uncanny glimmer of yellow light. O suor escorria de suas axilas quando o estranho se aproximou; o sangue escorria de seu rosto enquanto ele olhava nos olhos de Barry – olhos que agora tinham um brilho misterioso de luz amarela.

"Sir," said Byrne huskily, "you must not go! "Senhor", disse Byrne com voz rouca, "você não deve ir! Listen! Old Cumberland is calling to you again! Does that mean nothing? If you have some errand out in the night, let me go for you." Se você tiver alguma tarefa durante a noite, deixe-me ir até você." "Partner," said the soft voice of Barry, "stand aside. "Parceiro", disse a voz suave de Barry, "afaste-se. I got no time, I'm wanted!" Não tenho tempo, sou procurado!" Every muscle of Randall Byrne's body was set to repulse the stranger in any effort to pass through that door, and yet, mysteriously, against his will, he found himself standing to one side, and saw the other slip through the open door. Cada músculo do corpo de Randall Byrne estava preparado para repelir o estranho em qualquer esforço para passar por aquela porta e, no entanto, misteriosamente, contra sua vontade, ele se viu parado de um lado e viu o outro deslizar pela porta aberta. "Dan! Are ye there?" Você está aí?" called a louder voice from the room beyond.

There was no help for it. Não havia ajuda para isso. He, himself, must go back and face Joe Cumberland. Ele mesmo deve voltar e enfrentar Joe Cumberland. With a lie, no doubt. He would say that Dan had stepped out for a moment and would be back again. Ele dizia que Dan tinha saído por um momento e voltaria novamente. That might put Cumberland safely to sleep. In the morning, to be sure, he would find out the deception—but let every day bury its dead. De manhã, com certeza, ele descobriria o engano — mas deixaria todos os dias enterrar seus mortos. Here was enough trouble for one night. He went slowly, but steadily enough, towards the door of what had now become a fatal room to the doctor. Ele foi devagar, mas com bastante firmeza, em direção à porta do que agora se tornara um quarto fatal para o médico. In that room he had seen his dearest doctrines cremated. Naquela sala ele viu suas doutrinas mais queridas serem cremadas. Out of that room he had come bearing the ashes of his hopes in his hands. Daquela sala ele veio trazendo nas mãos as cinzas de suas esperanças. Now he must go back once more to try to fill, with science, a gap of which science could never take cognizance. Agora ele deve voltar mais uma vez para tentar preencher, com a ciência, uma lacuna que a ciência nunca poderia tomar conhecimento.

He lingered another instant with his hand on the door; then he cast it wide bravely enough and stepped in. Ele ficou mais um instante com a mão na porta; então ele a lançou com coragem suficiente e entrou. Joe Cumberland was sitting up on the edge of his couch. Joe Cumberland estava sentado na beirada do sofá. 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. Quase parecia, aos olhos incrédulos de Byrne, que o rosto estava um pouco preenchido. Certainly the fire of the old cattleman's glance was less unearthly. Certamente o fogo do olhar do velho pecuarista era menos sobrenatural. "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. Não era mais a voz profunda e controlada do estóico; era a queixa quase lamentosa de fraqueza vital.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" parried Byrne. Parou Byrne. "Anything you need or wish?" "Qualquer coisa que você precisa ou deseja?" "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?" "Ele... saiu... saiu?" echoed the old man slowly. Then he rose to the full of his gaunt height. Então ele se elevou ao máximo de sua altura magra. 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. Os cabelos brancos, a barba triangular e o bigode pontudo davam-lhe um significado distante, medieval; um retrato de Van Dyck havia saído da moldura.

"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!" "Foi para o céu ou para o inferno!" he cried with startling violence. ele gritou com uma violência surpreendente. "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. Como um ponto final para sua sentença, uma arma latiu do lado de fora, houve um uivo de dor e raiva demoníacas, e então um grito que iria formigar no ouvido do Dr. Randall Byrne até o dia de sua morte.