e! I suppose I am
going to be killed before I can leave this house!" In his eyes was the
dying-swan look. Through the windows could be seen the snow turning
blue in the shadow of dusk. The wind tore at the house and some loose
thing beat regularly against the clap-boards like a spirit tapping.

A door opened, and Scully himself entered. He paused in surprise as he
noted the tragic attitude of the Swede. Then he said, "What's the
matter here?"

The Swede answered him swiftly and eagerly: "These men are going to
kill me."

"Kill you!" ejaculated Scully. "Kill you! What are you talkin'?"

The Swede made the gesture of a martyr.

Scully wheeled sternly upon his son. "What is this, Johnnie?"

The lad had grown sullen. "Damned if I know," he answered. "I can't
make no sense to it." He began to shuffle the cards, fluttering them
together with an angry snap. "He says a good many men have been killed
in this room, or something like that. And he says he's goin' to be
killed here too. I don't know what ails him. He's crazy, I shouldn't
wonder."

Scully then looked for explanation to the cowboy, but the cowboy
simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Kill you?" said Scully again to the Swede. "Kill you? Man, you're off
your nut."

"Oh, I know." burst out the Swede. "I know what will happen. Yes, I'm
crazy--yes. Yes, of course, I'm crazy--yes. But I know one thing--"
There was a sort of sweat of misery and terror upon his face. "I know
I won't get out of here alive."

The cowboy drew a deep breath, as if his mind was passing into the
last stages of dissolution. "Well, I'm dog-goned," he whispered to
himself.

Scully wheeled suddenly and faced his son. "You've been troublin' this
man!"

Johnnie's voice was loud with its burden of grievance. "Why, good
Gawd, I ain't done nothin' to 'im."

The Swede broke in. "Gentlemen, do not disturb yourselves. I will
leave this house. I will go away because"--he accused them
dramatically with his glance--"because I do not want to be killed."

Scully was furious with his son. "Will you tell me what is the matter,
you young divil? What's the matter, anyhow? Speak out!"

"Blame it!" cried Johnnie in despair, "don't I tell you I don't know.
He--he says we want to kill him, and that's all I know. I can't tell
what ails him."

The Swede continued to repeat: "Never mind, Mr. Scully; nevermind. I
will leave this house. I will go away, because I do not wish to be
killed. Yes, of course, I am