Wanderer Of the Wasteland (1982) (55 page)

"Wal, I shore don't, stranger," declared the other. "I've been nigh fifty years in the West an' never seen your like yet. If I had I'd never forget."

"Merryvale, do you remember a lad who shot off your fishing line one day? Do you remember how you took interest in him--told him of Western ways--that he must be a man?"

"Shore I remember that lad!" exclaimed Merryvale, bluntly. He was old, but he was still keen. "How'd you know about him?"

"I am Adam Larey!"

The old man's eyes grew piercing. Intensely he gazed, bending closer, strong and thrilling now, with the zest of earlier experience sharp in his expression.

"I know you now. It's Adam.. I'd' knowed them eyes among a thousand, if I'd only looked. Eagle's eyes, Adam, once seen never forgot!...An' look at the giant of him! Wal, you make me feel young again...Adam, lad, I ain't never forgot ye--never! Shake hands with old Merryvale."

Agitated, with tremulous voice and shaking hands, he grasped Adam, almost embracing him, his grey old face alight with gladness.

"It's good to see you, Merryvale--to learn you've not forgotten me--all these years."

"Lad, you was like my own!...But who'd ever know you now? You've white hair, Adam, an'--ah I I see the desert in your face."

"Old friend, did you ever hear of Wansfell?"

"Wansfell? You mean thet wanderer the prospectors tell about?...Shore, I've been hearin' tales of him these many years."

"I am Wansfell," replied Adam.

"So help me God!...Wansfell?...You, Adam, the kindly lad!...Didn't I tell you what a hell of a man you'd be when you grew up?"

Adam drew Merryvale aside from the curiously gathering loungers.

"Old friend, you are responsible for Wansfell...And now, before we tell--before I go--I want you to take me to--to--my--my brother's grave?"

Merryvale stared.

"What?" he ejaculated, and again his keen old eyes searched Adam's.

"Yes. The grave--of my brother--Guerd," whispered Adam.

"Say, man!...You think Guerd Larey's buried here?...That's why you come back?"

Astonishment seemed to dominate Merryvale, to hold in check other emotions.

"My friend," replied Adam, "I came to see his grave--to make my peace with him and God--and to give myself up to the law."

"Give yourself--up--to the law!" gasped Merryvale. "Have you gone desert mad?"

"No. I'm right in my mind," returned Adam, patiently. "I owe it to my conscience, Merryvale...Fourteen years of torture! Any punishment I may suffer here, compared with those long years, will be as nothing...It will be happiness to give myself up."

Merryvale's lean jaw quivered as the astonishment and concern left his face. A light of divination began to dawn there.

"But what do you Want to give yourself up for?" he demanded.

"I told you. My conscience. My need to stand right with myself. To pay!"

"I mean--what 'd you do?...What for?"

"Old friend, you've grown thick of wits," rejoined Adam. "Because of my crime."

"An' what was thet, Adam Larey?" queried Merryvale, sharply.

"The crime of Cain," replied Adam sadly. "Come, friend--take me to my brother's grave."

Merryvale seemed galvanised from age to youth.

"Your brother's grave!...Guerd Larey's grave? By heaven! I wish I could take you to it!...Adam, you're out of your head. You are desert mad...Bless you lad, you've made a terrible mistake! You're not what you think you are. You've hid in the desert fourteen years--you've gone through hell--you've become Wansfell--all for nothin'!...My God! to think of thet!...Adam, you're no murderer. Your brother is not dead. He wasn't even bad hurt. No--no--Guerd Larey's alive--alive--alive!"

THE END