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The Night Horseman by Max Brand, CHAPTER XIV. MUSIC FOR OLD NICK

CHAPTER XIV. MUSIC FOR OLD NICK

A thought is like a spur. It lifts the head of a man as the spur makes the horse toss his; and it quickens the pace with a subtle addition of strength. Such a thought came to Buck Daniels as he stepped again on the veranda of the hotel. It could not have been an altogether pleasant inspiration, for it drained the colour from his face and made him clench his broad hands; and next he loosened his revolver in its holster. A thought of fighting—of some desperate chance he had once taken, perhaps.

But also it was a thought which needed considerable thought. He slumped into a wicker chair at one end of the porch and sat with his chin resting on his chest while he smoked cigarette after cigarette and tossed the butts idly over the rail. More than once he pressed his hand against his lips as though there were sudden pains there. The colour did not come back to his face; it continued as bloodless as ever, but there was a ponderable light in his eyes, and his jaws became more and more firmly set. It was not a pleasant face to watch at that moment, for he seemed to sit with a growing resolve.

Long moments passed before he moved a muscle, but then he heard, far away, thin, and clear, whistling from behind the hotel. It was no recognisable tune. It was rather a strange improvisation, with singable fragments here and there, and then wild, free runs and trills. It was as if some bird of exquisite singing powers should be taken in a rapture of song, so that it whistled snatches here and there of its usual melody, but all between were great, whole-throated rhapsodies. As the sound of this whistling came to him, Buck raised his head suddenly. And finally, still listening, he rose to his feet and turned into the dining-room.

There he found the waitress he had met before, and he asked her for the name of the doctor who took care of the wounded Jerry Strann.

"There ain't no doc," said the waitress. "It's Fatty Matthews, the deputy marshal, who takes care of that Strann—bad luck to him! Fatty's in the barroom now. But what's the matter? You seem like you was hearin' something?" "I am," replied Daniels enigmatically. "I'm hearin' something that would be music for the ears of Old Nick." And he turned on his heel and strode for the barroom. There he found Fatty in the very act of disposing of a stiff three-fingers of red-eye. Daniels stepped to the bar, poured his own drink, and then stood toying with the glass. For though the effect of red-eye may be pleasant enough, it has an essence which appalls the stoutest heart and singes the most leathery throat; it is to full-grown men what castor oil is to a child. Why men drink it is a mystery whose secret is known only to the profound soul of the mountain-desert. But while Daniels fingered his glass he kept an eye upon the other man at the bar.

It was unquestionably the one he sought. The excess flesh of the deputy marshal would have brought his nickname to the mind of an imbecile. However, Fatty was humming softly to himself, and it is not the habit of men who treat very sick patients to sing.

"I'll hit it agin," said Fatty. "I need it." "Have a bad time of it to-day?" asked O'Brien sympathetically. "Bad time to-day? Yep, an' every day is the same. I tell you, O'Brien, it takes a pile of nerve to stand around that room expectin' Jerry to pass out any minute, and the eyes of that devil Mac Strann followin' you every step you make. D'you know, if Jerry dies I figure Mac to go at my throat like a bulldog." "You're wrong, Fatty," replied O'Brien. "That ain't his way about it. He takes his time killin' a man. Waits till he can get him in a public place and make him start the picture. That's Mac Strann! Remember Fitzpatrick? Mac Strann followed Fitz nigh onto two months, but Fitz knew what was up and he never would make a move. He knowed that if he made a wrong pass it would be his last. So he took everything and let it pass by. But finally it got on his nerves. One time—it was right here in my barroom, Fatty——" "The hell you say!" "Yep, that was before your time around these parts. But Fitz had a couple of jolts of red-eye under his vest and felt pretty strong. Mac Strann happened in and first thing you know they was at it. Well, Fitz was a big man. I ain't small, but I had to look up when I talked to Fitz. Scotch-Irish, and they got fightin' bred into their bone. Mac Strann passed him a look and Fitz come back with a word. Soon as he got started he couldn't stop. Wasn't a pretty thing to watch, either. You could see in Fitz's face that he knew he was done for before he started, but he wouldn't, let up. The booze had him going and he was too proud to back down. Pretty soon he started cussing Mac Strann.

"Well, by that time everybody had cleared out of the saloon, because they knowed that them sort of words meant bullets comin'. But Mac Strann jest stood there watchin', and grinnin' in his ugly way—damn his soul black!—and never sayin' a word back. By God, Fatty, he looked sort of hungry. When he grinned, his upper lip went up kind of slow and you could see his big teeth. I expected to see him make a move to sink 'em in the throat of Fitz. But he didn't. Nope, he didn't make a move, and all the time Fitz ravin' and gettin' worse and worse. Finally Fitz made the move. Yep, he pulled his gun and had it damned near clean on Mac Strann before that devil would stir. But when he did , it was jest a flash of light. Both them guns went off, but Mac's bullet hit Fitz's hand and knocked the gun out of it—so of course his shot went wild. But Fitz could see his own blood, and you know what that does to the Scotch-Irish? Makes some people quit cold to see their own blood. I remember a kid at school that was a whale at fightin' till his nose got to bleedin', or something, and then he'd quit cold. But you take a Scotch-Irishman and it works just the other way. Show him his own colour and he goes plumb crazy.

"That's what happened to Fitz. When he saw the blood on his hand he made a dive at Mac Strann. After that it wasn't the sort of thing that makes a good story. Mac Strann got him around the ribs and I heard the bones crack. God! And him still squeezin', and Fitz beatin' away at Mac's face with his bleedin' hand. "Will you b'lieve that I stood here and was sort of froze? Yes, Fatty, I couldn't make a move. And I was sort of sick and hollow inside the same way I went one time when I was a kid and seen a big bull horn a yearlin'. "Then I heard the breath of Fitz comin' hoarse, with a rattle in it—and I heard Mac Strann whining like a dog that's tasted blood and is starvin' for more. A thing to make your hair go up on end, like they say in the story-books.

"Then Fitz—he was plumb mad—tried to bite Mac Strann. And then Mac let go of him and set his hands on the throat of Fitz. It happened like a flash—I'm here to swear that I could hear the bones crunch. And then Fitz's mouth sagged open and his eyes rolled up to the ceiling, and Mac Strann threw him down on the floor. Just like that! Damn him! And then he stood over poor dead Fitz and kicked him in those busted ribs and turned over to the bar and says to me: 'Gimme!' "Like a damned beast! He wanted to drink right there with his dead man beside him. And what was worse, I had to give him the bottle. There was a sort of haze in front of my eyes. I wanted to pump that devil full of lead, but I knowed it was plain suicide to try it.

"So there he stood and ups with a glass that was brimmin' full, and downs it at a swallow—gurglin'—like a hog! Fatty, how long will it be before there's an end to Mac Strann?" But Fatty Matthews shrugged his thick shoulders and poured himself another drink.

"There ain't a hope for Jerry Strann?" cut in Buck Daniels.

"Not one in a million," coughed Fatty, disposing of another formidable potion. "And when Jerry dies, Mac starts for this Barry?" "Who's been tellin' you?" queried O'Brien dryly. "Maybe you been readin' minds, stranger?" Buck Daniels regarded the bartender with a mild and steadfast interest. He was smiling with the utmost good-humour, but there was that about him which made big O'Brien flush and look down to his array of glasses behind the bar. "I been wondering," went on Daniels, "if Mac Strann mightn't come out with Barry about the way Jerry did. Ain't it possible?" "No," replied Fatty Matthews with calm decision. "It ain't possible. Well, I'm due back in my bear cage. Y'ought to look in on me, O'Brien, and see the mountain-lion dyin' and the grizzly lookin' on." "Will it last long?" queried O'Brien. "Somewhere's about this evening." Here Daniels started violently and closed his hand hard around his whiskey glass which he had not yet raised towards his lips.

"Are you sure of that, marshal?" he asked. "If Jerry's held on this long ain't there a chance that he'll hold on longer? Can you date him up for to-night as sure as that?" "I can," said the deputy marshal. "It ain't hard when you seen as many go west as I've seen. It ain't harder than it is to tell when the sand will be out of an hour glass. When they begin going down the last hill it ain't hard to tell when they'll reach the bottom." "Ain't you had anybody to spell you, Fatty?" broke in O'Brien. "Yep. I got Haw-Haw Langley up there. But he ain't much help. Just sits around with his hands folded. Kind of looks like Haw-Haw wanted Jerry to pass out." And Matthews went humming through the swinging door.

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CHAPTER XIV. MUSIC FOR OLD NICK CAPÍTULO XIV. MÚSICA PARA O VELHO NICK ГЛАВА XIV. МУЗЫКА ДЛЯ СТАРОГО НИКА BÖLÜM XIV. YAŞLI NICK İÇİN MÜZİK

A thought is like a spur. Um pensamento é como uma espora. It lifts the head of a man as the spur makes the horse toss his; and it quickens the pace with a subtle addition of strength. Eleva a cabeça de um homem como a espora faz o cavalo arremessar a sua; e acelera o passo com uma sutil adição de força. Such a thought came to Buck Daniels as he stepped again on the veranda of the hotel. Tal pensamento ocorreu a Buck Daniels ao pisar novamente na varanda do hotel. It could not have been an altogether pleasant inspiration, for it drained the colour from his face and made him clench his broad hands; and next he loosened his revolver in its holster. Não poderia ter sido uma inspiração totalmente agradável, pois drenou a cor de seu rosto e o fez apertar as mãos largas; e em seguida afrouxou o revólver no coldre. A thought of fighting—of some desperate chance he had once taken, perhaps. Um pensamento de luta - de algum risco desesperado que ele tinha tido uma vez, talvez.

But also it was a thought which needed considerable thought. Mas também era um pensamento que precisava de reflexão considerável. He slumped into a wicker chair at one end of the porch and sat with his chin resting on his chest while he smoked cigarette after cigarette and tossed the butts idly over the rail. Ele se deixou cair em uma cadeira de vime em uma extremidade da varanda e sentou-se com o queixo apoiado no peito enquanto fumava cigarro após cigarro e jogava as bitucas preguiçosamente sobre o parapeito. More than once he pressed his hand against his lips as though there were sudden pains there. Mais de uma vez ele pressionou a mão contra os lábios como se houvesse dores repentinas ali. The colour did not come back to his face; it continued as bloodless as ever, but there was a ponderable light in his eyes, and his jaws became more and more firmly set. A cor não voltou ao seu rosto; continuou sem sangue como sempre, mas havia uma luz ponderável em seus olhos, e suas mandíbulas ficaram cada vez mais firmes. It was not a pleasant face to watch at that moment, for he seemed to sit with a growing resolve. Não era um rosto agradável de se ver naquele momento, pois ele parecia estar sentado com uma resolução crescente.

Long moments passed before he moved a muscle, but then he heard, far away, thin, and clear, whistling from behind the hotel. Longos momentos se passaram antes que ele movesse um músculo, mas então ele ouviu, ao longe, fino e claro, um assobio atrás do hotel. It was no recognisable tune. Não era uma melodia reconhecível. It was rather a strange improvisation, with singable fragments here and there, and then wild, free runs and trills. Foi uma improvisação bastante estranha, com fragmentos cantáveis aqui e ali, e depois selvagens, corridas livres e trinados. It was as if some bird of exquisite singing powers should be taken in a rapture of song, so that it whistled snatches here and there of its usual melody, but all between were great, whole-throated rhapsodies. Era como se algum pássaro com poderes de canto requintados fosse levado em um êxtase de canto, de modo que assobiava trechos aqui e ali de sua melodia habitual, mas todos entre eles eram grandes rapsódias de garganta inteira. As the sound of this whistling came to him, Buck raised his head suddenly. Quando o som desse assobio chegou até ele, Buck levantou a cabeça de repente. And finally, still listening, he rose to his feet and turned into the dining-room. Por fim, ainda ouvindo, levantou-se e entrou na sala de jantar.

There he found the waitress he had met before, and he asked her for the name of the doctor who took care of the wounded Jerry Strann. Lá ele encontrou a garçonete que conhecera antes e perguntou o nome do médico que cuidou do ferido Jerry Strann.

"There ain't no doc," said the waitress. "It's Fatty Matthews, the deputy marshal, who takes care of that Strann—bad luck to him! "É Fatty Matthews, o vice-marechal, que cuida daquele Strann - má sorte para ele! Fatty's in the barroom now. But what's the matter? Mas qual é o problema? You seem like you was hearin' something?" "I am," replied Daniels enigmatically. "I'm hearin' something that would be music for the ears of Old Nick." "Estou ouvindo algo que seria música para os ouvidos do Velho Nick." And he turned on his heel and strode for the barroom. There he found Fatty in the very act of disposing of a stiff three-fingers of red-eye. Lá ele encontrou Fatty no próprio ato de se livrar de três dedos duros de olhos vermelhos. Daniels stepped to the bar, poured his own drink, and then stood toying with the glass. Daniels foi até o bar, serviu sua própria bebida e ficou brincando com o copo. For though the effect of red-eye may be pleasant enough, it has an essence which appalls the stoutest heart and singes the most leathery throat; it is to full-grown men what castor oil is to a child. Pois embora o efeito do olho vermelho possa ser bastante agradável, tem uma essência que apavora o coração mais robusto e chamusca a garganta mais dura; é para os homens adultos o que o óleo de rícino é para uma criança. Why men drink it is a mystery whose secret is known only to the profound soul of the mountain-desert. Por que os homens bebem é um mistério cujo segredo é conhecido apenas pela alma profunda do deserto da montanha. But while Daniels fingered his glass he kept an eye upon the other man at the bar. Mas enquanto Daniels manuseava seu copo, ele ficou de olho no outro homem no bar.

It was unquestionably the one he sought. Era inquestionavelmente o que ele procurava. The excess flesh of the deputy marshal would have brought his nickname to the mind of an imbecile. O excesso de carne do vice-marechal teria trazido seu apelido à mente de um imbecil. However, Fatty was humming softly to himself, and it is not the habit of men who treat very sick patients to sing. No entanto, Fatty estava cantarolando baixinho para si mesmo, e não é o hábito de homens que tratam de pacientes muito doentes cantar.

"I'll hit it agin," said Fatty. "Vou bater de novo", disse Fatty. "I need it." "Have a bad time of it to-day?" "Passou um mau bocado hoje?" asked O'Brien sympathetically. perguntou O'Brien com simpatia. "Bad time to-day? "Hora ruim hoje? Yep, an' every day is the same. Sim, e todos os dias são iguais. I tell you, O'Brien, it takes a pile of nerve to stand around that room expectin' Jerry to pass out any minute, and the eyes of that devil Mac Strann followin' you every step you make. Eu lhe digo, O'Brien, é preciso muita coragem para ficar em volta daquela sala esperando Jerry desmaiar a qualquer minuto, e os olhos daquele diabo do Mac Strann seguindo você a cada passo que você dá. D'you know, if Jerry dies I figure Mac to go at my throat like a bulldog." Você sabe, se Jerry morrer, imagino que Mac vá na minha garganta como um buldogue. "You're wrong, Fatty," replied O'Brien. "Você está errado, Gordo", respondeu O'Brien. "That ain't his way about it. "Esse não é o jeito dele. He takes his time killin' a man. Ele demora a matar um homem. Waits till he can get him in a public place and make him start the picture. Espera até que ele possa colocá-lo em um lugar público e fazê-lo começar o filme. That's Mac Strann! Remember Fitzpatrick? Lembra-se de Fitzpatrick? Mac Strann followed Fitz nigh onto two months, but Fitz knew what was up and he never would make a move. Mac Strann seguiu Fitz por quase dois meses, mas Fitz sabia o que estava acontecendo e nunca faria um movimento. He knowed that if he made a wrong pass it would be his last. So he took everything and let it pass by. Então ele pegou tudo e deixou passar. But finally it got on his nerves. Mas finalmente deu nos nervos. One time—it was right here in my barroom, Fatty——" "The hell you say!" "Yep, that was before your time around these parts. But Fitz had a couple of jolts of red-eye under his vest and felt pretty strong. Mas Fitz teve alguns choques de olhos vermelhos sob o colete e se sentiu muito forte. Mac Strann happened in and first thing you know they was at it. Mac Strann apareceu e a primeira coisa que você sabe que eles estavam fazendo. Well, Fitz was a big man. I ain't small, but I had to look up when I talked to Fitz. Scotch-Irish, and they got fightin' bred into their bone. escocês-irlandês, e eles lutaram até os ossos. Mac Strann passed him a look and Fitz come back with a word. Mac Strann lançou-lhe um olhar e Fitz voltou com uma palavra. Soon as he got started he couldn't stop. Assim que começou, não conseguia parar. Wasn't a pretty thing to watch, either. Também não era uma coisa bonita de se ver. You could see in Fitz's face that he knew he was done for before he started, but he wouldn't, let up. Você podia ver no rosto de Fitz que ele sabia que estava acabado antes de começar, mas ele não desistiu. The booze had him going and he was too proud to back down. A bebida o fez ir e ele estava orgulhoso demais para recuar. Pretty soon he started cussing Mac Strann. Logo ele começou a xingar Mac Strann.

"Well, by that time everybody had cleared out of the saloon, because they knowed that them sort of words meant bullets comin'. "Bem, naquela época todo mundo tinha saído do salão, porque eles sabiam que essas palavras significavam balas vindo. But Mac Strann jest stood there watchin', and grinnin' in his ugly way—damn his soul black!—and never sayin' a word back. Mas Mac Strann brincava ali, olhando, e sorrindo com seu jeito feio — maldita alma negra! — e nunca dizendo uma palavra de volta. By God, Fatty, he looked sort of hungry. Por Deus, Gordo, ele parecia meio faminto. When he grinned, his upper lip went up kind of slow and you could see his big teeth. Quando ele sorriu, seu lábio superior subiu meio devagar e você podia ver seus dentes grandes. I expected to see him make a move to sink 'em in the throat of Fitz. Eu esperava vê-lo fazer um movimento para afundá-los na garganta de Fitz. But he didn't. Nope, he didn't make a move, and all the time Fitz ravin' and gettin' worse and worse. Não, ele não fez um movimento, e o tempo todo Fitz delirou e ficando cada vez pior. Finally Fitz made the move. Yep, he pulled his gun and had it damned near clean on Mac Strann before that devil would stir. Sim, ele sacou sua arma e quase acertou Mac Strann antes que o diabo se mexesse. But when he did , it was jest a flash of light. Mas quando o fez, foi apenas um flash de luz. Both them guns went off, but Mac's bullet hit Fitz's hand and knocked the gun out of it—so of course his shot went wild. As duas armas dispararam, mas a bala de Mac atingiu a mão de Fitz e derrubou a arma - então é claro que seu tiro foi selvagem. But Fitz could see his own blood, and you know what that does to the Scotch-Irish? Mas Fitz podia ver seu próprio sangue, e você sabe o que isso faz com o escocês-irlandês? Makes some people quit cold to see their own blood. Faz algumas pessoas desistirem de ver o próprio sangue. I remember a kid at school that was a whale at fightin' till his nose got to bleedin', or something, and then he'd quit cold. Eu me lembro de um garoto na escola que era uma baleia lutando até o nariz dele sangrar, ou algo assim, e então ele parou com frio. But you take a Scotch-Irishman and it works just the other way. Mas você pega um escocês-irlandês e funciona exatamente ao contrário. Show him his own colour and he goes plumb crazy. Mostre-lhe a sua própria cor e ele enlouquece.

"That's what happened to Fitz. When he saw the blood on his hand he made a dive at Mac Strann. Quando viu o sangue em sua mão, mergulhou em Mac Strann. After that it wasn't the sort of thing that makes a good story. Depois disso, não era o tipo de coisa que faz uma boa história. Mac Strann got him around the ribs and I heard the bones crack. Mac Strann o pegou pelas costelas e ouvi os ossos estalando. God! And him still squeezin', and Fitz beatin' away at Mac's face with his bleedin' hand. E ele ainda apertando, e Fitz batendo no rosto de Mac com sua mão sangrenta. "Will you b'lieve that I stood here and was sort of froze? "Você vai acreditar que eu estava aqui e estava meio congelado? Yes, Fatty, I couldn't make a move. And I was sort of sick and hollow inside the same way I went one time when I was a kid and seen a big bull horn a yearlin'. E eu estava meio doente e oco por dentro do mesmo jeito que eu fui uma vez quando eu era criança e vi um grande chifre de touro um ano. И мне стало как-то тошно и пусто внутри, как однажды в детстве, когда я увидел рог большого быка в годину. "Then I heard the breath of Fitz comin' hoarse, with a rattle in it—and I heard Mac Strann whining like a dog that's tasted blood and is starvin' for more. "Então ouvi a respiração de Fitz ficando rouca, com um chocalho - e ouvi Mac Strann ganindo como um cachorro que provou sangue e está faminto por mais. A thing to make your hair go up on end, like they say in the story-books. Uma coisa de arrepiar o cabelo, como dizem nos livros de histórias.

"Then Fitz—he was plumb mad—tried to bite Mac Strann. "Então Fitz - ele estava completamente louco - tentou morder Mac Strann. And then Mac let go of him and set his hands on the throat of Fitz. E então Mac o soltou e colocou as mãos na garganta de Fitz. It happened like a flash—I'm here to swear that I could hear the bones crunch. Aconteceu como um relâmpago — estou aqui para jurar que pude ouvir os ossos estalando. And then Fitz's mouth sagged open and his eyes rolled up to the ceiling, and Mac Strann threw him down on the floor. E então a boca de Fitz se abriu e seus olhos rolaram para o teto, e Mac Strann o jogou no chão. Just like that! Damn him! Maldito seja! And then he stood over poor dead Fitz and kicked him in those busted ribs and turned over to the bar and says to me: 'Gimme!' E então ele parou em cima do pobre Fitz morto e chutou ele naquelas costelas quebradas e virou-se para o bar e me disse: 'Me dá!' "Like a damned beast! "Como uma fera maldita! He wanted to drink right there with his dead man beside him. And what was worse, I had to give him the bottle. There was a sort of haze in front of my eyes. Havia uma espécie de névoa na frente dos meus olhos. I wanted to pump that devil full of lead, but I knowed it was plain suicide to try it. Eu queria encher aquele diabo de chumbo, mas sabia que era um simples suicídio tentar.

"So there he stood and ups with a glass that was brimmin' full, and downs it at a swallow—gurglin'—like a hog! "Então lá ele se levantou com um copo que estava cheio até a borda, e bebeu em um gole - borbulhando - como um porco! Fatty, how long will it be before there's an end to Mac Strann?" Fatty, quanto tempo vai demorar até que Mac Strann acabe? But Fatty Matthews shrugged his thick shoulders and poured himself another drink. Mas Fatty Matthews deu de ombros e serviu-se de outra bebida.

"There ain't a hope for Jerry Strann?" cut in Buck Daniels.

"Not one in a million," coughed Fatty, disposing of another formidable potion. "Nem um em um milhão," tossiu Fatty, descartando outra poção formidável. "And when Jerry dies, Mac starts for this Barry?" "E quando Jerry morre, Mac começa por este Barry?" "Who's been tellin' you?" "Quem está te contando?" queried O'Brien dryly. perguntou O'Brien secamente. "Maybe you been readin' minds, stranger?" Buck Daniels regarded the bartender with a mild and steadfast interest. Buck Daniels olhou para o barman com um interesse suave e firme. He was smiling with the utmost good-humour, but there was that about him which made big O'Brien flush and look down to his array of glasses behind the bar. Ele estava sorrindo com o maior bom humor, mas havia algo nele que fez O'Brien corar e olhar para baixo para sua coleção de óculos atrás do bar. "I been wondering," went on Daniels, "if Mac Strann mightn't come out with Barry about the way Jerry did. "Estava me perguntando", continuou Daniels, "se Mac Strann não poderia revelar Barry sobre o jeito que Jerry fez. "Я тут подумал, - продолжил Дэниелс, - а не может ли Мак Стрэнн выйти с Барри примерно так же, как это сделал Джерри. Ain't it possible?" Разве это не возможно?" "No," replied Fatty Matthews with calm decision. "It ain't possible. Well, I'm due back in my bear cage. Bem, devo voltar para minha jaula de urso. Y'ought to look in on me, O'Brien, and see the mountain-lion dyin' and the grizzly lookin' on." Você deveria olhar para mim, O'Brien, e ver o leão da montanha morrendo e o urso pardo olhando." "Will it last long?" "Vai durar muito?" queried O'Brien. "Somewhere's about this evening." "Algum lugar é sobre esta noite." Here Daniels started violently and closed his hand hard around his whiskey glass which he had not yet raised towards his lips. Nesse ponto, Daniels estremeceu violentamente e fechou a mão com força em torno do copo de uísque que ainda não tinha levado aos lábios.

"Are you sure of that, marshal?" "Você tem certeza disso, marechal?" he asked. "If Jerry's held on this long ain't there a chance that he'll hold on longer? "Se Jerry aguentou tanto tempo, não há chance de ele aguentar mais? "Если Джерри продержался так долго, есть ли шанс, что он продержится еще дольше? Can you date him up for to-night as sure as that?" Você pode sair com ele esta noite com certeza?" "I can," said the deputy marshal. "It ain't hard when you seen as many go west as I've seen. "Não é difícil quando você vê tantos indo para o oeste quanto eu já vi. It ain't harder than it is to tell when the sand will be out of an hour glass. Não é mais difícil do que dizer quando a areia estará fora de uma ampulheta. When they begin going down the last hill it ain't hard to tell when they'll reach the bottom." "Ain't you had anybody to spell you, Fatty?" "Você não tinha ninguém para enfeitiçar você, Fatty?" "Неужели тебя никто не заколдовал, Фатти?" broke in O'Brien. "Yep. I got Haw-Haw Langley up there. Eu tenho Haw-Haw Langley lá em cima. But he ain't much help. Just sits around with his hands folded. Apenas fica sentado com as mãos cruzadas. Kind of looks like Haw-Haw wanted Jerry to pass out." Parece que Haw-Haw queria que Jerry desmaiasse." And Matthews went humming through the swinging door. E Matthews foi cantarolando pela porta de vaivém.