The Son of his Father

by Ridgwell Cullum

"Better send your team round to the barn," said Mallinsbee, with that thoughtful care he had for all animals. "Then come inside and get some supper."

Mike prepared to drive round to the barn.

"I see the rack in his yard," he grinned.

"Good."

Then Gordon laughed. The last care had been banished. Now it was action. Now? Ah, now he was perfectly happy.

The night was intensely still. The last revelers in Snake's Fall had betaken themselves to their drunken slumbers. The only lights remaining were the glow of a small cluster of red lamps just outside the town at the eastern end of it, and the peeping lights behind the curtained windows of the houses to which these belonged. There was no need to question the nature of these houses. In the West they are to be found on the fringe of every young town that offers the prospect of prosperity.

There was a single light burning in the hall of McSwain's hotel. This was as usual, and would burn all night. For the rest, the house was in darkness. The last guest had retired to rest a full hour or more.

The stillness was profound. The very profundity of it was only increased by the occasional long-drawn dole of the prairie coyote, foraging somewhere out in the distance for its benighted prey.

The shadowed outbuildings behind the hotel remained for a long time as quiet as the rest of the world. The horses in the barn were sleeping peacefully. The fowls and turkeys and geese which populated the yard in daylight were as profoundly steeped with sleep as the rest of the feathered world. Even the two aged husky dogs, set there on the presumption of keeping guard, were composed for the night.

But after awhile sounds began to emanate from the dark barn. With the first sound a dog-chain rattled, and immediately a low voice spoke. After that the dog-chain remained still. Next came the sound of hoofs on the hard sand floor of the barn. They were hasty, but swiftly passing. The last sound was heard as two horses emerged upon the open, each led by a shadowy figure quite unrecognizable in the velvety darkness of the starlit night.