第88章

It was half-past one o'clock.In the barn outside the greater number of the guests had departed.Long since the musicians had disappeared.There only remained the families of the ranch owners involved in the meeting in the harness room.These huddled in isolated groups in corners of the garish, echoing barn, the women in their wraps, the young men with their coat collars turned up against the draughts that once more made themselves felt.

For a long half hour the loud hum of eager conversation continued to issue from behind the door of the harness room.Then, at length, there was a prolonged scraping of chairs.The session was over.The men came out in groups, searching for their families.

At once the homeward movement began.Every one was worn out.

Some of the ranchers' daughters had gone to sleep against their mothers' shoulders.

Billy, the stableman, and his assistant were awakened, and the teams were hitched up.The stable yard was full of a maze of swinging lanterns and buggy lamps.The horses fretted, champing the bits; the carry-alls creaked with the straining of leather and springs as they received their loads.At every instant one heard the rattle of wheels.as vehicle after vehicle disappeared in the night.

A fine, drizzling rain was falling, and the lamps began to show dim in a vague haze of orange light.

Magnus Derrick was the last to go.At the doorway of the barn he found Annixter, the roll of names--which it had been decided he was to keep in his safe for the moment--under his arm.Silently the two shook hands.Magnus departed.The grind of the wheels of his carry-all grated sharply on the gravel of the driveway in front of the ranch house, then, with a hollow roll across a little plank bridge, gained the roadway.For a moment the beat of the horses' hoofs made itself heard on the roadway.It ceased.Suddenly there was a great silence.

Annixter, in the doorway of the great barn, stood looking about him for a moment, alone, thoughtful.The barn was empty.That astonishing evening had come to an end.The whirl of things and people, the crowd of dancers, Delaney, the gun fight, Hilma Tree, her eyes fixed on him in mute confession, the rabble in the harness room, the news of the regrade, the fierce outburst of wrath, the hasty organising of the League, all went spinning confusedly through his recollection.But he was exhausted.Time enough in the morning to think it all over.By now it was raining sharply.He put the roll of names into his inside pocket, threw a sack over his head and shoulders, and went down to the ranch house.

But in the harness room, lighted by the glittering lanterns and flaring lamps, in the midst of overturned chairs, spilled liquor, cigar stumps, and broken glasses, Vanamee and Presley still remained talking, talking.At length, they rose, and came out upon the floor of the barn and stood for a moment looking about them.

Billy, the stableman, was going the rounds of the walls, putting out light after light.By degrees, the vast interior was growing dim.Upon the roof overhead the rain drummed incessantly, the eaves dripping.The floor was littered with pine needles, bits of orange peel, ends and fragments of torn organdies and muslins and bits of tissue paper from the "Phrygian Bonnets" and "Liberty Caps." The buckskin mare in the stall, dozing on three legs, changed position with a long sigh.The sweat stiffening the hair upon her back and loins, as it dried, gave off a penetrating, ammoniacal odour that mingled with the stale perfume of sachet and wilted flowers.

Presley and Vanamee stood looking at the deserted barn.There was a long silence.Then Presley said:

"Well...what do you think of it all?"

"I think," answered Vanamee slowly, "I think that there was a dance in Brussels the night before Waterloo."