The Max Brand Megapack. Max Brand

love, they’re always singing and shouting and raising the devil. It looked to me as if Harrigan was making himself be cheerful.”

      He went on: “I’ll take him aside and tell him that I understand. Otherwise he’ll think he’s fooling me.”

      “Please! You won’t do that? Angus, you know how proud he is! He will be furious if he finds out that I’ve spoken to you about—about—our love. Won’t you wait until he tells you of his own accord?”

      He ground his teeth in an ugly fury.

      “You understand? If I find you’ve been playing with me, it’ll mean death for Harrigan, and worse than that for you?”

      She made her glance sad and gentle.

      “Will you never trust me, Angus?”

      He answered, with a sort of wonder at himself: “Since I was a child, you are the first person in the world who has had the right to call me by my first name.”

      “Not a single woman?” and she shivered.

      “Not one.”

      She pondered: “No love, no friendship, not even pity to bring you close to a single human being all your life?”

      “No child has ever come near me, for I’ve never had room for pity. No man has been my friend, for I’ve spent my time fighting them and breaking them. And I’ve despised women too much to love them.”

      The tears rose to her eyes as she spoke: “I pity you from the bottom of my soul!”

      “Pity? Me? By God, Kate, you’ll teach me to hate you!”

      “I can’t help it. Why, if you have never loved, you have never lived!”

      “You talk like a girl in a Sunday school! Ha, have I never lived? Men were made strong so that a stronger man should be their master; and women—”

      “And women, Angus?”

      “All women are fools; one woman is divine!”

      The yearning of his eyes gave a bitter meaning to his words, and she was shaken like a leaf blown here and there by contrary winds. Unheeded, the sudden tropic night swooped upon them like the shadow of a giant bird, and as the dark increased, they saw the glimmering of the fire upon the hill. She rose, and he followed her until they reached the upward slope.

      Then he said: “You will want to be alone with him for a time. Can you find the rest of the way?”

      “Yes. You’ll come soon?”

      “I’ll come soon, but I have to be by myself for a while. I may hate you for it afterward, but now I’m weak and soft inside—like a child—and I only wish for your happiness.”

      “God bless you, Angus!”

      “God help me,” he answered harshly, and stepped into the blank night of the shadow of the trees.

      Harrigan shook his head in wonder when he saw her coming alone. He had built up the fire and heaped fresh fuel in towering piles nearby. The flames shot up twenty and thirty feet, making a wide signal across the sea.

      “He’s gone off by himself again?” questioned the Irishman.

      She complained: “I can’t understand him. Will he be always like this? What shall I do, Dan?”

      He met her appeal with a smile, but the blue eyes went cold at once and he sighed. It would never do to have the two sitting silent beside that fire. The brooding of McTee would excite no suspicions in the mind of Harrigan, but the quiet of the Irishman would be sure to excite the suspicions of the other.

      “Will you do something for me, Dan?”

      He looked up with a whimsical yearning.

      “Teach McTee manners? Aye, with all me heart!”

      She laughed: “No; but cheer him up. You said that if you were in his place, you’d be singing all the time.”

      “And I would.”

      “Then sing for me—for Angus and me—tonight when we’re sitting by the fire. He’s fallen into a brooding melancholy, and I can’t altogether trust him. Can you understand?”

      “And I’m to do the cheering up?”

      “You won’t fail me?”

      He turned and occupied himself for a moment by hurling great armfuls of wood upon the fire. The flames burst up with showering sparks, roaring and leaping. Then, as if inspired by the sight, he came to her with his head tilting back in the way he had.

      “I’ll do it—I’ll sing my heart out for you.”

      As McTee came up, the three sat down; a strange group, for the two men stared fixedly before them at the fire, conscientiously avoiding any movement of the eyes toward Kate and the other; and she sat between them, watching each of them covertly and humming all the while as if from happiness. Each of them thought the humming a love song meant for the ears of the other. Finally McTee turned and stared curiously, first at Kate and then at Harrigan. Manifestly he could not understand either their silence or their aloofness. It was for the Scotchman that she would have to play her role; Harrigan was blind. The Irishman also, as if he felt the eyes of McTee, turned his head. Kate nodded significantly and moved closer to him.

      Obedient to his promise, he turned away again and raised his head to sing. Alternate light and shadow swept across his face and made fire and dark in his hair as the wind tossed the flame back and forth. At the other side of her McTee rested upon one elbow. Whenever she turned her head, she caught the steel-cold glitter of his eyes.

      The first note from Harrigan’s lips was low and faltering and off key; she trembled lest McTee should understand, but the Scotchman attributed the emotion to another cause. As his singing continued, moreover, it increased in power and steadiness. One thing, however, she had not counted on, and that was the emotion of Harrigan. Every one of his songs carried on the theme of love in a greater or less degree, and now his own singing swept him beyond the bounds of caution; he turned directly to Kate and sang for her alone “Kathleen Mavourneen.” There was love and farewell at once in his singing, there was yearning and despair.

      She knew that a crisis had come, and that McTee was pressed to the limits of his endurance. The game had gone too far, and yet she dared not appear indifferent to the singing. That would have been too direct a betrayal, so she sat with her head back and a smile on her lips.

      There was a groan and a stifled curse. McTee rose; the song died in the throat of Harrigan.

      CHAPTER 15

      “Is this what you feared?” said the Scotchman. “Is this what you wanted protection against? No; you’re in league together to torture me, and all this time you’ve been laughing up your sleeves at my expense!”

      “At your expense?” growled Harrigan, rising in turn. “Is it at your expense that I’ve been sittin’ here breakin’ me heart with singin’ love tunes for you an’ the girl?”

      She sprang up in an agony of fear.

      “Go! Go!” she begged of McTee. “If you doubt me, go, and when you come back calm, I will explain.”

      He brushed her to one side and made a step toward Harrigan.

      “Love songs for me?” he repeated incredulously.

      “Aye, love songs for you. Ye black swine, ye could not be happy till I was brought in to be the piper while you an’ Kate danced!”

      “While I and Kate danced?” thundered McTee. “My God, man—”

      He broke off short, and a cruel light of understanding was in his eyes.

      “Harrigan,” he said quietly, “did Kate tell you she loved me?”

      “Ye fool! Why else am I sittin’ here singin’ for your sake? Would I not rather