The gaunt, grim face of Shea tightened and hardened. “One thing I can do—go there,” he reflected. “What the hell have I to worry about—can they do any worse to me than I have done to myself? No. They’ll try to arrest me, they’ll try to keep me here. They can’t do it! I’m going.”
As he left the place and sought the road, there was a sublime unconsciousness of self in him. He was in no condition of mind to do the usual, the conventional thing, the thing that any sane man would have done, the thing that any one would be expected to do.
No! From that hour, Shea was a different man. He had entered upon this new and primitive existence, and now it took hold upon him. His course of life had been abruptly shifted, and he was climbing new paths; as he climbed, the exhilaration of the heights sang in his blood. He had flung away the lessons of his old dreary years. Now his actions were to be the simple, terrible, and impulsive actions of a child who fears no consequences.
Finding that he was only a couple of blocks from the main street of the town, Shea walked toward it, the axe helve still in his hand. He meant to take out his flivver and go.
There was no church in Zacaton City, and it was not yet time for the Mormon chapel to open. The garage doors were wide. In front, standing in the warm sunlight, Ben Aimes was chatting with the constable about the mysterious disappearance of the man Shea. Half-a-dozen idlers were lined up to one side, smoking and discussing the coming and going of the sheriff. Around the corner of the store, across the street, swung the gaunt figure of Shea.
“By gosh!” exclaimed Aimes, staring. He clutched the arm of the constable. “There’s the cuss now! Lay him up until Dorales gets here to-morrow, anyhow. Whew! I’m glad he’s showed up at last. Must ha’ been laying in a ditch.”
The loafers galvanized into sudden interest. The constable started across the street and met Shea midway. He held out one hand, with the other showing his badge of office.
“Get out of my way,” said Shea, lifelessly, looking through him.
“None o’ that, now,” snorted the constable. “You come along with me.”
With a smack that was heard for half a block, the axe helve swung a vicious half-circle and landed over the officer’s ear. The constable threw out his hands and fell on his face, lying motionless. Shea strode forward.