Page:Weird Tales Volume 6 Number 5 (1925-11).djvu/72

arms before them, and stood shuddering against the far wall of the messroom straight across from the specter that confronted him.

"Look at me!" the headless corpse commanded.

Slater kept his eyes covered.

"Milton Slater, you coward—look at me now!"

The man took his arms from his face but held his eyes shut.

"Look at me!" the headless specter screamed.

Slowly Slater opened his eyes and gazed at the awful thing. Then he picked at his face with ungoverned hands.

"Put down your hands, Slater," the decapitated corpse shouted. "I can see you, without my head. Put down your hands!"

Slater put his weaving arms down at his sides. DuPerret beheld the sinister tableau.

Then the voice of Settler Hurt boomed forth again with a finality of conviction.

"Milton Slater, now you shall be punished. Stand still, and look."

A moment of silence hung in the dimly lit cabin room. Then an ax swung out from Hurt's room. Through the air it flew and clattered to the floor at Slater's feet.

"That's the ax you killed me with, Slater. Let DuPerret use it, but ask him first if he wants an ax that you swung clear through my neck—through this neck you see now. Ask him, Slater."

DuPerret saw the brown stain on the ax wedge. Another minute of silence ensued. Then Slater put up a whimpering.

Suddenly a spherical thing, a lopsided ball with a matting of hair, was shot out over the headless body. From the doorway of Hurt's chamber it came, flying straight at Slater.

The thing hit with a thud on the wall just above Slater's head. It came down, bounced on Slater's shoulder and bumped to the floor. As the unwieldy shape hit the hard floor boards, it split open like a melon.

DuPerret cried out.

"Slater! For Christ's sake, that's Drayton's head on the floor—that's your son's head—Slater!"

Slater shrieked and covered his eyes.

When DuPerret again looked toward the doorway, the headless corpse was on the floor. Settler Hurt, gigantic, black with rage, his knotted arms bare and menacing, stood in the messroom beside the body. Slater was on the floor whining, clutching the hair on his son's shattered head. Then Settler Hurt let loose his words.

"DuPerret, he wanted the gold for his son and himself. He got us drunk tonight, drank some fake booze, tea or coffee, himself. I and his son were so full of hootch we got our own room doors mixed. Drayton went into my room, I into his. I woke up and saw my mistake. Going through the door between our chambers, in my own room I found Drayton's body on my bunk, his head severed. I tore down the paper shade to make sure I wasn't snaky from the hootch, and there I found Slater's ax. Then I knew. Slater meant to kill me, and killed his son. It sobered me, that did. After I heard you were here I did the rest with Drayton's body in the doorway. And now, Slater—"

Hurt curled his lips for a final imprecation upon the murderer, but the sight before him stifled speech.

Old Slater, brushing his son's head, was singing a soft lullaby with a breaking tune that betrayed departed reason. Fondling the horrid shape, he planted kisses on his son's ghastly lips.

Settler Hurt groped for the whisky jug and gulped as he watched the man on the floor.

"Leave some for me," DuPerret whispered as he put his hands on the upturned jug.