Short Stories
coat. Across his chest he laid his Mauser rifle, lingering affection-
ately for a moment to wipe the dampness from the barrel. The
hand with which he wiped had no fingers left upon it with
which to pull the trigger.
He closed his eyes, for, from the weakness in his body and
the fuzzy turmoil in his brain, he knew that his end was near.
Like a wild animal he had crept into hiding to die. Half-
conscious, aimless and wandering, he lived back in his life to his
early manhood on Niihau. As life faded and the drip of the rain
grew dim in his ears it seemed to him that he was once more in
the thick of the horse-breaking, with raw colts rearing and buck-
ing under him, his stirrups tied together beneath, or charging
madly about the breaking corral and driving the helping cow-
boys over the rails. The next instant, and with seeming natural-
ness, he found himself pursuing the wild bulls of the upland
pastures, roping them and leading them down to the valleys.
Again the sweat and dust of the branding pen stung his eyes and
bit his nostrils.
All his lusty, whole-bodied youth was his, until the sharp
pangs of impending dissolution brought him back. He lifted his
monstrous hands and gazed at them in wonder. But how? Why?
Why should the wholeness of that wild youth of his change to
this? Then he remembered, and once again, and for a moment,
he was Koolau, the leper. His eyelids fluttered wearily down and
the drip of the rain ceased in his ears. A prolonged trembling set
up in his body. This, too, ceased. He half-lifted his head, but it
fell back. Then his eyes opened, and did not close. His last
thought was of his Mauser, and he pressed it against his chest
with his folded, fingerless hands.
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