Blue Kingdom by Max Brand

would kill him instantly.”
    New venison steaks were now hissing and steaming in the pan as Legges went on cheerfully: “What did this foolish young man want? How was he trying to establish himself? Ah, well, that will be a thing to be determined later on, when. . . .”
    The door opened from the dining room side, and Carrick Dunmore came in and struck a white silence upon every face. “Go on talking, folks,” he said, while Legges noted that the footfall of this man made no sound upon the floor as he crossed to the stove. “Go right on talking and don’t let me upset you any.”
    From the nerveless hand of Mrs. Harper, he took the big fork and with it turned the venison steaks; and Legges, as the man’s back was turned, glanced sharply, inquiringly, at Harper, as much as to say: This is the time to strike.
    However, he did not have to look twice at Harper to understand that Chuck was sick with awe and fear, and incapable of raising a hand. The good Legges even slid a hand covertly inside his coat, for although he was old, he was not much slower than an aged cat.
    But just as the burning thought entered his mind, and his hand had crept into the breast of his coat, Carrick Dunmore turned about from the stove and waved the big fork toward them. “Nothing in the world like fryin’ meat for a hungry man,” he said. “The smell of this here, it came up to me sweeter than incense. You won’t mind if a hungry man takes this turn, will you, Missus Harper?”
    Even in her fear, her hatred mastered her and wrinkled her face as she answered: “You got your steak already . . . a three-man piece of meat, too!”
    â€œAh, and beautifully cooked, and it sure was seasoned to the queen’s taste,” said Carrick Dunmore with continued good cheer. “Only,” he went on, “it wasn’t me that ate it.”
    â€œNot you?” cried Mrs. Harper indignantly.
    â€œYou see, there was that little Chilton boy that had got into the house, and he come runnin’ down the hall. . . .”
    â€œAh . . . heaven!” exclaimed Mrs. Harper with a sick face.
    Carrick Dunmore paused, and for one instant hiseyes centered upon the woman’s face and burned her to the soul. “And when I went to speak to the little boy,” he concluded slowly, “the dog, Danny, got at the meat. It killed him . . . like a bullet through the brain.”

T HIRTEEN
    The hand of Legges froze upon the butt of the revolver within his coat, and there it remained, for the glance of Carrick Dunmore had now turned upon him and rested brightly, but steadily, on his face.
    â€œYou’re a newcomer, I guess?”
    â€œYes,” said Legges.
    â€œWhen I heard someone calling for the dog by the name of Danny, was that you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou didn’t own him, then?”
    â€œYes, I owned him.”
    â€œWell, sir,” said Dunmore, “I’m mighty sorry that he died that way. It’ll cut you up a good deal. That’s why you’re so silent right now, I suppose.” He continued looking with a softened eye upon Legges. “I guess if one comes right down to it, they’s a lot of men that you’d rather see dead than that dog, eh?”
    Although he said it in ever so casual and sympathetic a manner, the eyes of Legges gleamed with fear, and then were blank again. But he merely nodded, anddid not speak. He could not help noticing that, in spite of his very careless manner, this young man had the big fork always in his left hand, the right remaining free for emergencies.
    â€œI don’t know what could have happened to him. Choked on too big a bite, maybe? But choking takes a little time, eh? What would you say could’ve killed him?”
    â€œHeart disease, no doubt,” said Legges calmly.
    â€œHeart disease?” said the other. “Why, sure! That must’ve been it. Got himself all weakened from running