The Killer | Page 9

in the dishes were
literally quarts of dead insects, not only flies, but bees, hornets, and
other sorts as well. I now understood the deadly silence that had so
impressed me the evening before. This was certainly most ingenious;
and I said so.
But at my first remark the old man became obstinately silent, and fell
again to grooming the Morgan horse. Then I became aware that he was
addressing me in low tones out of the corner of his mouth.
"Go on; look at the horse; say something," he muttered, busily
polishing down the animal's hind legs. "You're a man who saveys a
horse--the only man I've seen here who does. Get out! Don't ask why.
You're safe now. You're not safe here another day. Water your horse;
eat your breakfast; then get out!"
And not another word did I extract. I watered my horse at the covered
trough, and rather thoughtfully returned to the courtyard.

I found there Old Man Hooper waiting. He looked as bland and
innocent and harmless as the sunlight on his own flagstones--until he
gazed up at me, and then I was as usual disconcerted by the blank,
veiled, unwinking stare of his eyes.
"Remarkably fine Morgan stallion you have, sir," I greeted him. "I
didn't know such a creature existed in this part of the world."
But the little man displayed no gratification.
"He's well enough. I have him more to keep Tim happy than anything
else. We'll go in to breakfast."
I cast a cautious eye at the barred window in the left wing. The curtains
were still down. At the table I ventured to ask after Miss Hooper. The
old man stared at me up to the point of embarrassment, then replied
drily that she always breakfasted in her room. The rest of our
conversation was on general topics. I am bound to say it was
unexpectedly easy. The old man was a good talker, and possessed
social ease and a certain charm, which he seemed to be trying to exert.
Among other things, I remember, he told me of the Indian councils he
used to hold in the old days.
"They were held on the willow flat, outside the east wall," he said. "I
never allowed any of them inside the walls." The suavity of his manner
broke fiercely and suddenly. "Everything inside the walls is mine!" he
declared with heat. "Mine! mine! mine! Understand? I will not tolerate
in here anything that is not mine; that does not obey my will; that does
not come when I say come; go when I say go; and fall silent when I say
be still!"
A wild and fantastic idea suddenly illuminated my understanding.
"Even the crickets, the flies, the frogs, the birds," I said, audaciously.
He fixed his wildcat eyes upon me without answering.
"And," I went on, deliberately, "who could deny your perfect right to

do what you will with your own? And if they did deny that right what
more natural than that they should be made to perish--or take their
breakfasts in their rooms?"
I was never more aware of the absolute stillness of the house than when
I uttered these foolish words. My hand was on the gun in my
trouser-band; but even as I spoke a sickening realization came over me
that if the old man opposite so willed, I would have no slightest chance
to use it. The air behind me seemed full of menace, and the hair
crawled on the back of my neck. Hooper stared at me without sign for
ten seconds; his right hand hovered above the polished table. Then he
let it fall without giving what I am convinced would have been a signal.
"Will you have more coffee--my guest?" he inquired. And he stressed
subtly the last word in a manner that somehow made me just a trifle
ashamed.
At the close of the meal the Mexican familiar glided into the room.
Hooper seemed to understand the man's presence, for he arose at once.
"Your horse is saddled and ready," he told me, briskly. "You will be
wishing to start before the heat of the day. Your cantinas are ready on
the saddle."
He clapped on his hat and we walked together to the corral. There
awaited us not only my own horse, but another. The equipment of the
latter was magnificently reminiscent of the old California
days--gaily-coloured braided hair bridle and reins; silver _conchas_;
stock saddle of carved leather with silver horn and cantle; silvered bit
bars; gay Navajo blanket as corona; silver corners to skirts, silver
conchas on the long tapaderos. Old Man Hooper, strangely
incongruous in his wrinkled "store clothes," swung aboard.
"I will ride with you for a distance," he said.
We jogged forth side by side at