“And you’d break her heart. She’s your sister, and would sooner cut off her right hand than hurt you.”
Elia laughed silently. There was a fiendishness in his manner that was absolutely repulsive.
“Guess you’re wrong,” he said decidedly. “It wouldn’t break Eve’s heart worth a cent. She don’t care a cuss for him, since––since that night. Eve’s a heap high-toned in her notions. He hit her. He nigh killed her. She ain’t one to fergit easy.” He laughed again. “I ken see clear through Eve. If Will was dead, in six months she’d marry agin. D’ye know who? Jim Thorpe. She’s jest a fool gal. She’s allus liked Jim a heap. That night’s stickin’ in her head. She ain’t fergot Jim––nor you. Say, d’you know what she’s doin’? When Will sends her money she sets it aside an’ don’t touch it. She don’t buy things for herself. She hates it. She lives on her sewin’. That’s Eve. I tell you she hates Will, same as I do, an’ I’m––I’m glad.”
Peter smiled incredulously. He didn’t believe that the girl’s love for her husband was dead. Possibly her attitude deceived the lad, as well it might. How could one of his years understand a matter of this sort? But he thought long before he replied to the venomous tirade. He knew he must stop the lad’s intention. He felt that it was not for him to hunt Will down, even––even if he were a cattle-thief.
“Look here, laddie,” he said at last, “I promised you all the gold I found in this place. I’m going to keep that promise, but you’ve got to do something for me. See? Now I’m not going to say you can’t track Will if you’ve a notion to. But I do say this, if he’s on the crook, and you find it out, you’ll promise only to tell me and no one 193 else. You leave Will to me. I’m not going to have you hanging your sister’s husband. You’ve got to promise me, laddie, or you don’t see the color of my gold. And don’t you try to play me up, either, because I’ll soon know if you are. Are you going to have that gold?”
The boy’s face was obstinately set. Yet Peter realized that his cupidity was fighting with the viciousness of his twisted mind, and had no doubt of the outcome. The thought of seeing Will hang was a delirious joy to Elia. He saw the man he hated suffering, writhing in agony at the end of a rope, and dying by inches. It was hard to give it up. Yet the thought of Peter’s gold––not the man himself, of whom, in his strange fashion, he was fond––was very sweet. Gold! It appealed to him, young as he was, as it might have appealed to a mind forty years older; the mind of a man beaten by poverty and embittered by a long life of hopeless struggle. Finally, as Peter expected, cupidity won the day, but not without a hot verbal protest.
“You’re a fool man some ways, Peter,” the boy at last declared in a snarling acquiescence. “What for d’you stop me? Gee, you’ve nothing to help him for. Say, I’d watch him die, I’d spit at him. I’d––I’d–––” But his frenzy of evil joy made it impossible for him to find further words. He broke off, and, a moment later, went on coldly: “All right, I’ll do as you say. Gee, but it makes me sick. Eh? No. I won’t tell other folk. Nor Eve––but––but you’re goin’ to give me that gold, an’ I’ll be rich. Say, I’ll be able to buy buggies, an’ hosses, an’ ranches, an’ things? I’ll be able to have plenty folks workin’ for me? Gee! I’ll make ’em work. I’ll make ’em sick to death when I get that gold.”
Peter rose abruptly to return to work. The boy’s diseased mind nauseated him. His heart revolted with each fresh revelation of the terrible degeneracy that possessed the lad.