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.
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