By Max Brand

The Untamed Trailin'The Night Horseman

THE NIGHT HORSEMAN

BY

MAX BRAND

1920

CONTENTS

I. --THE SCHOLAR

II. --WORDS AND BULLETS

III. --THE DOCTOR RIDES

IV. --THE CHAIN

V. --THE WAITING

VI. --THE MISSION STARTS

VII. --JERRY STRANN

VIII. --THE GIFT-HORSE

IX. --BATTLE LIGHT

X. --"SWEET ADELINE"

XI. --THE BUZZARD

XII. --FINESSE

XIII. --THE THREE

XIV. --MUSIC FOR OLD NICK

XV. --OLD GARY PETERS

XVI. --THE COMING OF NIGHT

XVII. --BUCK MAKES HIS GET-AWAY

XVIII. --DOCTOR BYRNE ANALYSES

XIX. --SUSPENSE

XX. --THE COMING

XXI. --MAC STRANN DECIDES TO KEEP THE LAW

XXII. --PATIENCE

XXIII. --HOW MAC STRANN KEPT THE LAW

XXIV. --DOCTOR BYRNE LOOKS INTO THE PAST

XXV. --WEREWOLF

XXVI. --THE BATTLE

XXVII. --THE CONQUEST

XXVIII. --THE TRAIL

XXIX. --TALK

XXX. --THE VOICE OF BLACK BART

XXXI. --THE MESSAGE

XXXII. --VICTORY

XXXIII. --DOCTOR BYRNE SHOWS THE TRUTH

XXXIV. --THE ACID TEST

XXXV. --PALE ANNIE

XXXVI. --THE DISCOVERY OF LIFE

XXXVII. --THE PIEBALD

XXXVIII. --THE CHALLENGE

XXXIX. --THE STORM

XL. --THE ARROYO

XLI. --THE FALLING OF NIGHT

XLII. --THE JOURNEY INTO NIGHT

THE NIGHT HORSEMAN

CHAPTER I

THE SCHOLAR

At the age of six Randall Byrne could name and bound every state in theUnion and give the date of its admission; at nine he was conversant withHomeric Greek and Caesar; at twelve he read Aristophanes with perfectunderstanding of the allusions of the day and divided his leisurebetween Ovid and Horace; at fifteen, wearied by the simplicity of OldEnglish and Thirteenth Century Italian, he dipped into the history ofPhilosophy and passed from that, naturally, into calculus and the highermathematics; at eighteen he took an A. B. From Harvard and while idlingaway a pleasant summer with Hebrew and Sanscrit he delved lightly intobiology and its kindred sciences, having reached the conclusion thatTruth is greater than Goodness or Beauty, because it comprises both, andthe whole is greater than any of its parts; at twenty-one he pocketedhis Ph. D. And was touched with the fever of his first practicalenthusiasm--surgery. At twenty-four he was an M. D. And a distinguisheddiagnostician, though he preferred work in his laboratory in hisendeavor to resolve the elements into simpler forms; also he publishedat this time a work on anthropology whose circulation was limited to twohundred copies, and he received in return two hundred letters ofcongratulation from great men who had tried to read his book; attwenty-seven he collapsed one fine spring day on the floor of hislaboratory. That afternoon he was carried into the presence of a greatphysician who was also a very vulgar man. The great physician felt hispulse and looked into his dim eyes. 

"You have a hundred and twenty horsepower brain and a runabout body, "said the great physician. 

"I have come, " answered Randall Byrne faintly, "for the solution of aproblem, not for the statement thereof. "

"I'm not through, " said the great physician. "Among other things you area damned fool. "

Randall Byrne here rubbed his eyes. 

"What steps do you suggest that I consider?" he queried. 

The great physician spat noisily. 

"Marry a farmer's daughter, " he said brutally. 

"But, " said Randall Byrne vaguely. 

"I am a busy man and you've wasted ten minutes of my time, " said thegreat physician, turning back to his plate glass window. "My secretarywill send you a bill for one thousand dollars. Good-day. "

And therefore, ten days later, Randall Byrne sat in his room in thehotel at Elkhead. 

He had just written (to his friend Swinnerton Loughburne, M. A. , Ph. D. , L. L. D. ): "Incontrovertibly the introduction of the personal equationleads to lamentable inversions, and the perceptive faculties whencontemplating phenomena through the lens of ego too often conceive anaccidental connotation or manifest distortion to be actuality, for thephysical (or personal) too often beclouds that power of inner visionwhich so unerringly penetrates to the inherent truths of incorporeityand the extramundane. Yet this problem, to your eyes, I fear, notessentially novel or peculiarly involute, holds for my contemplativefaculties an extraordinary fascination, to wit: wherein does the mind, in itself a muscle, escape from the laws of the physical, and whereinand wherefore do the laws of the physical exercise so inexorable ajurisdiction over the processes of the mind, so that a disorder of thevisual nerve actually distorts the asomatous and veils thepneumatoscopic?

"Your pardon, dear Loughburne, for these lapses from the general to theparticular, but in a lighter moment of idleness, I pray you give somecareless thought to a problem now painfully my own, though rootedinevitably so deeply in the dirt of the commonplace. 

"But you have asked me in letter of recent date for the particularphysical aspects of my present environment, and though (as you so wellknow) it is my conviction that the physical fact is not and only theimmaterial is, yet I shall gladly look about me--a thing I have not yetseen occasion to do--and describe to you the details of my presentcondition. "

Accordingly, at this point Randall Byrne removed from his nose his thickglasses and holding them poised he stared through the window at the viewwithout. He had quite changed his appearance by removing the spectacles, for the owlish touch was gone and he seemed at a stroke ten yearsyounger. It was such a face as one is glad to examine in detail, lean, pale, the transparent skin stretched tightly over cheekbones, nose, andchin. That chin was built on good fighting lines, though somewhatover-delicate in substance and the mouth quite colourless, but oddlyenough the upper lip had that habitual appearance of stiff compressionwhich is characteristic of highly strung temperaments; it is anoticeable feature of nearly every great actor, for instance. The nosewas straight and very thin and in a strong sidelight a tracery of thered blood showed through at the nostrils. The eyes were deeply buriedand the lower lids bruised with purple--weak eyes that blinked at achange of light or a sudden thought--distant eyes which missed thedesign of wall paper and saw the trees growing on the mountains. Theforehead was Byrne's most noticeable feature, pyramidal, swellinglargely towards the top and divided in the centre into two distinctlobes by a single marked furrow which gave his expression a hint of thewistful. Looking at that forehead one was strangely conscious of thebrain beneath. There seemed no bony structure; the mind, undefended, was growing and pushing the confining walls further out. 

And the fragility which the head suggested the body confirmed, for hewas not framed to labor. The burden of the noble head had bowed theslender throat and crooked the shoulders, and when he moved his arm itseemed the arm of a skeleton too loosely clad. There was a differingconnotation in the hands, to be sure. They were thin--bones and sinewschiefly, with the violet of the veins showing along the backs; but theywere active hands without tremor--hands ideal for the accurate scalpel, where a fractional error means death to the helpless. 

After a moment of staring through the window the scholar wrote again:"The major portion of Elkhead lies within plain sight of my window. Isee a general merchandise store, twenty-seven buildings of acomparatively major and eleven of a minor significance, and fivesaloons. The streets--"

The streets, however, were not described at that sitting, for at thisjuncture a heavy hand knocked and the door of Randall Byrne's room wasflung open by Hank Dwight, proprietor of Elkhead's saloon--a versatileman, expert behind the bar or in a blacksmith shop. 

"Doc, " said Hank Dwight, "you're wanted. " Randall Byrne placed hisspectacles more firmly on his nose to consider his host. 

"What--" he began, but Hank Dwight had already turned on his heel. 

"Her name is Kate Cumberland. A little speed, doc. She's in a hurry. "

"If no other physician is available, " protested Byrne, following slowlydown the stairs, "I suppose I must see her. "

"If they was another within ten miles, d'you s'pose I'd call on you?"asked Hank Dwight. 

So saying, he led the way out onto the veranda, where the doctor wasaware of a girl in a short riding skirt who stood with one gloved handon her hip while the other slapped a quirt idly against her ridingboots. 

CHAPTER II

WORDS AND BULLETS

"Here's a gent that calls himself a doc, " said Hank Dwight by way of anintroduction. "If you can use him, Miss Cumberland, fly to it!"

And he left them alone. 

Now the sun lay directly behind Kate Cumberland and in order to look ather closely the doctor had to shade his weak eyes and pucker his brows;for from beneath her wide sombrero there rolled a cloud of golden hairas bright as the sunshine itself--a sad strain upon the visual nerve ofDoctor Randall Byrne. He repeated her name, bowed, and when hestraightened, blinked again. As if she appreciated that strain upon hiseyes she stepped closer, and entered the shadow. 

"Doctor Hardin is not in town, " she said, "and I have to bring aphysician out to the ranch at once; my father is critically ill. "

Randall Byrne rubbed his lean chin. 

"I am not practicing at present, " he said reluctantly. Then he saw thatshe was watching him closely, weighing him with her eyes, and it came tothe mind of Randall Byrne that he was not a large man and might notincline the scale far from the horizontal. 

"I am hardly equipped--" began Byrne. 

"You will not need equipment, " she interrupted. "His trouble lies in hisnerves and the state of his mind. "

A slight gleam lighted the eyes of the doctor. 

"Ah, " he murmured. "The mind?"

"Yes. "

He rubbed his bloodless hands slowly together, and when he spoke hisvoice was sharp and quick and wholly impersonal. "Tell me the symptoms!"

"Can't we talk those over on the way to the ranch? Even if we start nowit will be dark before we arrive. "

"But, " protested the doctor, "I have not yet decided--thisprecipitancy--"

"Oh, " she said, and flushed. He perceived that she was on the verge ofturning away, but something withheld her. "There is no other physicianwithin reach; my father is very ill. I only ask that you come as adiagnostician, doctor!"

"But a ride to your ranch, " he said miserably. "I presume you refer toriding a horse?"

"Naturally. "

"I am unfamiliar with that means of locomotion, " said the doctor withserious eyes, "and in fact have not carried my acquaintance with theequine species beyond a purely experimental stage. Anatomically I have asuperficial knowledge, but on the one occasion on which I sat in asaddle I observed that the docility of the horse is probably a poeticfallacy. "

He rubbed his left shoulder thoughtfully and saw a slight tremor at thecorners of the girl's mouth. It caused his vision to clear andconcentrate; he found that the lips were, in fact, in the very act ofsmiling. The face of the doctor brightened. 

"You shall ride my own horse, " said the girl. "She is perfectly gentleand has a very easy gait. I'm sure you'll have not the slightest troublewith her. "

"And you?"

"I'll find something about town; it doesn't matter what. "

"This, " said the doctor, "is most remarkable. You choose your mounts atrandom?"

"But you will go?" she insisted. 

"Ah, yes, the trip to the ranch!" groaned the doctor. "Let me see: thephysical obstacles to such a trip while many are not altogetherinsuperable, I may say; in the meantime the moral urge which compels metowards the ranch seems to be of the first order. " He sighed. "Is it notstrange, Miss Cumberland, that man, though distinguished from the lowerorders by mind, so often is controlled in his actions by ethicalimpulses which override the considerations of reason? An observationwhich leads us towards the conclusion that the passion for goodness is aprinciple hardly secondary to the passion for truth. Understand that Ibuild the hypothesis only tentatively, with many reservations, amongwhich--"

He broke off short. The smile was growing upon her lips. 

"I will put together a few of my things, " said the doctor, "and comedown to you at once. "

"Good!" said the girl, "I'll be waiting for you with two horses beforeyou are ready. "

He turned away, but had taken hardly a step before he turned, saying:"But why are you so sure that you will be ready before I--" but she wasalready down the steps from the veranda and stepping briskly down thestreet. 

"There is an element of the unexplainable in woman, " said the doctor, and resumed his way to his room. Once there, something prompted him toact with the greatest possible speed. He tossed his toilet articles anda few changes of linen into a small, flexible valise and ran down thestairs. He reached the veranda again, panting, and the girl was not insight; a smile of triumph appeared on the grave, colourless lips of thedoctor. "Feminine instinct, however, is not infallible, " he observed tohimself, and to one of the cowboys, lounging loosely in a chair nearby, he continued his train of thoughts aloud: "Though the verity of thefeminine intuition has already been thrown in a shade of doubt by manythinkers, as you will undoubtedly agree. "

The man thus addressed allowed his lower jaw to drop but after a momenthe ejaculated: "Now what in hell d'you mean by that?"

The doctor already turned away, intent upon his thoughts, but he nowpaused and again faced the cowboy. He said, frowning: "There isunnecessary violence in your remark, sir. "

"Duck your glasses, " said the worthy in question. "You ain't talkin' toa book, you're talking to a man. "

"And in your attitude, " went on the doctor, "there is an element ofoffense which if carried farther might be corrected by physicalviolence. "

"I don't foller your words, " said the cattleman, "but from the drift ofyour tune I gather you're a bit peeved; and if you are--"

His voice had risen to a ringing note as he proceeded and he now slippedfrom his chair and faced Randall Byrne, a big man, brown, hard-handed. The doctor crimsoned. 

"Well?" he echoed, but in place of a deep ring his words were pitched ina high squeak of defiance. 

He saw a large hand contract to a fist, but almost instantly the big mangrinned, and his eyes went past Byrne. 

"Oh, hell!" he grunted, and turned his back with a chuckle. 

For an instant there was a mad impulse in the doctor to spring at thisfellow but a wave of impotence overwhelmed him. He knew that he waswhite around the mouth, and there was a dryness in his throat. 

"The excitement of imminent physical contest and personal danger, " hediagnosed swiftly, "causing acceleration of the pulse and attendantweakness of the body--a state unworthy of the balanced intellect. "

Having brought back his poise by this quick interposition of reason, hewent his way down the long veranda. Against a pillar leaned another tallcattleman, also brown and lean and hard. 

"May I inquire, " he said, "if you have any information direct or casualconcerning a family named Cumberland which possesses ranch property inthis vicinity?"

"You may, " said the cowpuncher, and continued to roll his cigarette. 

"Well, " said the doctor, "do you know anything about them?"

"Sure, " said the other, and having finished his cigarette he introducedit between his lips. It seemed to occur to him instantly, however, thathe was committing an inhospitable breach, for he produced his Durham andbrown papers with a start and extended them towards the doctor. 

"Smoke?" he asked. 

"I use tobacco in no form, " said the doctor. 

The cowboy stared with such fixity that the match burned down to hisfingertips and singed them before he had lighted his cigarette. 

"'S that a fact?" he queried when his astonishment found utterance. "What d'you do to kill time? Well, I been thinking about knocking offthe stuff for a while. Mame gets sore at me for having my fingers allstained up with nicotine like this. "

He extended his hand, the first and second fingers of which werepainted a bright yellow. 

"Soap won't take it off, " he remarked. 

"A popular but inexcusable error, " said the doctor. "It is the tarryby-products of tobacco which cause that stain. Nicotine itself, ofcourse, is a volatile alkaloid base of which there is only the meresttrace in tobacco. It is one of the deadliest of nerve poisons and isquite colourless. There is enough of that stain upon your fingers--if itwere nicotine--to kill a dozen men. "

"The hell you say!"

"Nevertheless, it is an indubitable fact. A lump of nicotine the size ofthe head of a pin placed on the tongue of a horse will kill the beastinstantly. "

The cowpuncher pushed back his hat and scratched his head. 

"This is worth knowin', " he said, "but I'm some glad that Mame ain'theard it. "

"Concerning the Cumberlands, " said the doctor, "I--"

"Concerning the Cumberlands, " repeated the cattleman, "it's best toleave 'em to their own concerns. " And he started to turn away, but thethirst for knowledge was dry in the throat of the doctor. 

"Do I understand, " he insisted, "that there is some mystery connectedwith them?"

"From me, " replied the other, "you understand nothin'. " And he lumbereddown the steps and away. 

Be it understood that there was nothing of the gossip in Randall Byrne, but now he was pardonably excited and perceiving the tall form of HankDwight in the doorway he approached his host. 

"Mr. Dwight, " he said, "I am about to go to the Cumberland ranch. Igather that there is something of an unusual nature concerning them. "

"There is, " admitted Hank Dwight. 

"Can you tell me what it is?"

"I can. "

"Good!" said the doctor, and he almost smiled. "It is always well toknow the background of a case which has to do with mental states. Now, just what do you know?"

"I know--" began the proprietor, and then paused and eyed his guestdubiously. "I know, " he continued, "a story. "

"Yes?"

"Yes, about a man and a hoss and a dog. "

"The approach seems not quite obvious, but I shall be glad to hear it. "

There was a pause. 

"Words, " said the host, at length, "is worse'n bullets. You never knowwhat they'll hit. "

"But the story?" persisted Randall Byrne. 

"That story, " said Hank Dwight, "I may tell to my son before I die. "

"This sounds quite promising. "

"But I'll tell nobody else. "

"Really!"

"It's about a man and a hoss and a dog. The man ain't possible, thehoss ain't possible, the dog is a wolf. "

He paused again and glowered on the doctor. He seemed to be drawn twoways, by his eagerness to tell a yarn and his dread of consequences. 

"I know, " he muttered, "because I've seen 'em all. I've seen"--he lookedfar, as though striking a silent bargain with himself concerning the sumof the story which might safely be told--"I've seen a hoss thatunderstood a man's talk like you and me does--or better. I've heard aman whistle like a singing bird. Yep, that ain't no lie. You jestimagine a bald eagle that could lick anything between the earth and thesky and was able to sing--that's what that whistlin' was like. It madeyou glad to hear it, and it made you look to see if your gun was in goodworkin' shape. It wasn't very loud, but it travelled pretty far, like itwas comin' from up above you. "

"That's the way this strange man of the story whistles?" asked Byrne, leaning closer. 

"Man of the story?" echoed the proprietor, with some warmth. "Friend, ifhe ain't real, then I'm a ghost. And they's them in Elkhead that's gotthe scars of his comin' and goin'. "

"Ah, an outlaw? A gunfighter?" queried the doctor. 

"Listen to me, son, " observed the host, and to make his point he tappedthe hollow chest of Byrne with a rigid forefinger, "around these partsyou know jest as much as you see, and lots of times you don't even knowthat much. What you see is sometimes your business, but mostly itain't. " He concluded impressively: "Words is worse'n bullets!"

"Well, " mused Byrne, "I can ask the girl these questions. It will bemedically necessary. "

"Ask the girl? Ask her?" echoed the host with a sort of horror. But heended with a forced restraint: "That's _your_ business. "

CHAPTER III

THE DOCTOR RIDES

Hank Dwight disappeared from the doorway and the doctor was called fromhis pondering by the voice of the girl. There was something about thatvoice which worried Byrne, for it was low and controlled and musical andit did not fit with the nasal harshness of the cattlemen. When she beganto speak it was like the beginning of a song. He turned now and foundher sitting a tall bay horse, and she led a red-roan mare beside her. When he went out she tossed her reins over the head of her horse andstrapped his valise behind her saddle. 

"You won't have any trouble with that mare, " she assured him, when thetime came for mounting. Yet when he approached gingerly he was receivedwith flattened ears and a snort of anger. "Wait, " she cried, "the leftside, not the right!"

He felt the laughter in her voice, but when he looked he could see notrace of it in her face. He approached from the left side, setting histeeth. 

"You observe, " he said, "that I take your word at its full value, " andplacing his foot in the stirrup, he dragged himself gingerly up to thesaddle. The mare stood like a rock. Adjusting himself, he wiped a suddenperspiration from his forehead. 

"I quite believe, " he remarked, "that the animal is of unusualintelligence. All may yet be well!"

"I'm sure of it. " said the girl gravely. "Now we're off. "

And the horses broke into a dog trot. Now the gait of the red roan marewas a dream of softness, and her flexible ankles gave a play of wholeinches to break the jar of every step, the sure sign of the goodsaddle-horse; but the horse has never been saddled whose trot is reallya smooth pace. The hat of Doctor Byrne began to incline towards hisright eye and his spectacles towards his left ear. He felt a peculiarlightness in the stomach and heaviness in the heart. 

"The t-t-t-trot, " he ventured to his companion, "is a d-d-d-dam--"

"Dr. Byrne!" she cried. 

"Whoa!" called Doctor Byrne, and drew mightily in upon the reins. Thered mare stopped as a ball stops when it meets a stout wall; the doctorsprawled along her neck, clinging with arms and legs. He managed toclamber back into the saddle. 

"There are vicious elements in the nature of this brute, " he observed tothe girl. 

"I'm very sorry, " she murmured. He cast a sidelong glance but found notthe trace of a smile. 

"The word upon which I--"

"Stopped?" she suggested. 

"Stopped, " he agreed, "was not, as you evidently assumed, an oath. Onthe contrary, I was merely remarking that the trot is a damaging gait, but through an interrupted--er--articulation--"

His eye dared her, but she was utterly grave. He perceived that therewas, after all, a certain kinship between this woman of themountain-desert and the man thereof. Their silences were filled witheloquence. 

"We'll try a canter, " she suggested, "and I think you'll find thateasier. "

So she gave the word, and her bay sprang into a lope from a standingstart. The red mare did likewise, nearly flinging the doctor over theback of the saddle, but by the grace of God he clutched the pommel intime and was saved. The air caught at his face, they swept out of thetown and onto a limitless level stretch. 

"Sp-p-p-peed, " gasped the doctor, "has never been a p-p-passion withme!"

He noted that she was not moving in the saddle. The horse was like thebottom of a wave swinging violently back and forth. She was the calmcrest, swaying slightly and graciously with a motion as smooth as theflowing of water. And she spoke as evenly as if she were sitting in arocking chair. 

"You'll be used to it in a moment, " she assured him. 

He learned, indeed, that if one pressed the stirrups as the shoulders ofthe horse swung down and leaned a trifle forward when the shoulders roseagain, the motion ceased to be jarring; for she was truly a matchlesscreature and gaited like one of those fabulous horses of old, sired bythe swift western wind. In a little time a certain pride went beatingthrough the veins of the doctor, the air blew more deeply into hislungs, there was a different tang to the wind and a different feel tothe sun--a peculiar richness of yellow warmth. And the small head of thehorse and the short, sharp, pricking ears tossed continually; and nowand then the mare threw her head a bit to one side and glanced back athim with what he felt to be a reassuring air. Life and strength andspeed were gripped between his knees--he flashed a glance at the girl. 

But she rode with face straightforward and there was that about herwhich made him turn his eyes suddenly away and look far off. It was ajagged country, for in the brief rainy season there came sudden andterrific downpours which lashed away the soil and scoured the face ofthe underlying rock, and in a single day might cut a deep arroyo wherebefore had been smooth plain. This was the season of grass, but not thedark, rank green of rich soil and mild air--it was a yellowish green, acolour at once tender and glowing. It spread everywhere across theplains about Elkhead, broken here and there by the projecting boulderswhich flashed in the sun. So a great battlefield might appear, pockmarked with shell-holes, and all the scars of war freshly cut uponits face. And in truth the mountain desert was like an arena ready tostage a conflict--a titanic arena with space for earth-giants tostruggle--and there in the distance were the spectator mountains. High, lean-flanked mountains they were, not clad in forests, but ratherbristling with a stubby growth of the few trees which might endure inprecarious soil and bitter weather, but now they gathered the dignity ofdistance about them. The grass of the foothills was a faint green mistabout their feet, cloaks of exquisite blue hung around the upper masses, but their heads were naked to the pale skies. And all day long, withdeliberate alteration, the garb of the mountains changed. When thesudden morning came they leaped naked upon the eye, and then withdrew, muffling themselves in browns and blues until at nightfall they coveredthemselves to the eyes in thickly sheeted purple--Tyrian purple--andprepared for sleep with their heads among the stars. 

Something of all this came to Doctor Randall Byrne as he rode, for itseemed to him that there was a similarity between these mountains andthe girl beside him. She held that keen purity of the upper slopes underthe sun, and though she had no artifice or careful wiles to make herstrange, there was about her a natural dignity like the mystery ofdistance. There was a rhythm, too, about that line of peaks against thesky, and the girl had caught it; he watched her sway with the gallop ofher horse and felt that though she was so close at hand she was athousand miles from him. She concealed nothing, and yet he could no moresee her naked soul than he could tear the veils of shadow from themountains. Not that the doctor phrased his emotions in words. He wasonly conscious of a sense of awe and the necessity of silence. 

A strange feeling for the doctor! He came from the region of the mindwhere that which is not spoken does not exist, and now this girl wascarrying him swiftly away from hypotheses, doubts, and polysyllabicspeech into the world--of what? The spirit? The doctor did not know. Heonly felt that he was about to step into the unknown, and it held forhim the fascination of the suspended action of a statue. Let it not bethought that he calmly accepted the sheer necessity for silence. Hefought against it, but no words came. 

It was evening: the rolling hills about them were already dark; only theheads of the mountains took the day; and now they paused at the top of arise and the girl pointed across the hollow. "There we are, " she said. It was a tall clump of trees through which broke the outlines of atwo-storied house larger than any the doctor had seen in themountain-desert; and outside the trees lay long sheds, a great barn, anda wide-spread wilderness of corrals. It struck the doctor with itsapparently limitless capacity for housing man and beast. Coming incontrast with the rock-strewn desolation of the plains, this was a greatestablishment; the doctor had ridden out with a waif of the desert andshe had turned into a princess at a stroke. Then, for the first timesince they left Elkhead, he remembered with a start that he was to carefor a sick man in that house. 

"You were to tell me, " he said, "something about the sickness of yourfather--the background behind his condition. But we've both forgottenabout it. "

"I have been thinking how I could describe it, every moment of theride, " she answered. Then, as the gloom fell more thickly around themevery moment, she swerved her horse over to the mare, as if it werenecessary that she read the face of the doctor while she spoke. 

"Six months ago, " she said, "my father was robust and active in spite ofhis age. He was cheerful, busy, and optimistic. But he fell into adecline. It has not been a sudden sapping of his strength. If it werethat I should not worry so much; I'd attribute it to disease. But everyday something of vitality goes from him. He is fading almost from hourto hour, as slowly as the hour hand of a clock. You can't notice thechange, but every twelve hours the hand makes a complete revolution. It's as if his blood were evaporating and nothing we can do will supplyhim with fresh strength. "

"Is this attended by irritability?"

"He is perfectly calm and seems to have no care for what becomes ofhim. "

"Has he lost interest in the things which formerly attracted andoccupied him?"

"Yes, he minds nothing now. He has no care for the condition of thecattle, or for profit or loss in the sales. He has simply stepped out ofevery employment. "

"Ah, a gradual diminution of the faculties of attention. "

"In a way, yes. But also he is more alive than he has ever been. Heseems to hear with uncanny distinctness, for instance. "

The doctor frowned. 

"I was inclined to attribute his decline to the operation of old age, "he remarked, "but this is unusual. This--er--inner acuteness isaccompanied by no particular interest in any one thing?". 

As she did not reply for the moment he was about to accept the silencefor acquiescence, but then through the dimness he was arrested by thelustre of her eyes, fixed, apparently, far beyond him. 

"One thing, " she said at length. "Yes, there is one thing in which heretains an interest. "

The doctor nodded brightly. 

"Good!" he said. "And that--?"

The silence fell again, but this time he was more roused and he fixedhis eyes keenly upon her through the gloom. She was deeply troubled; onehand gripped the horn of her saddle strongly; her lips had parted; shewas like one who endures inescapable pain. He could not tell whether itwas the slight breeze which disturbed her blouse or the rapid panting ofher breath. 

"Of that, " she said, "it is hard to speak--it is useless to speak!"

"Surely not!" protested the doctor. "The cause, my dear madame, thoughperhaps apparently remote from the immediate issue, is of the utmostsignificance in diagnosis. "

She broke in rapidly: "This is all I can tell you: he is waiting forsomething which will never come. He has missed something from his lifewhich will never come back into it. Then why should we discuss what itis that he has missed. "

"To the critical mind, " replied the doctor calmly, and he automaticallyadjusted his glasses closer to his eyes, "nothing is withoutsignificance. "

"It is nearly dark!" she exclaimed hurriedly. "Let us ride on. "

"First, " he suggested, "I must tell you that before I left Elkhead Iheard a hint of some remarkable story concerning a man and a horse and adog. Is there anything--"

But it seemed that she did not hear. He heard a sharp, low exclamationwhich might have been addressed to her horse, and the next instant shewas galloping swiftly down the slope. The doctor followed as fast as hecould, jouncing in the saddle until he was quite out of breath. 

CHAPTER IV

THE CHAIN

They had hardly passed the front door of the house when they were met bya tall man with dark hair and dark, deep-set eyes. He was tanned to thebronze of an Indian, and he might have been termed handsome had not hisfeatures been so deeply cut and roughly finished. His black hair wasquite long, and as the wind from the opened door stirred it, there was atouch of wildness about the fellow that made the heart of Randall Byrnejump. When this man saw the girl his face lighted, briefly; when hisglance fell on Byrne the light went out. 

"Couldn't get the doc, Kate?" he asked. 

"Not Doctor Hardin, " she answered, "and I've brought Doctor Byrneinstead. "

The tall man allowed his gaze to drift leisurely from head to foot ofRandall Byrne. 

Then: "H'ware you, doc?" he said, and extended a big hand. It occurredto Byrne that all these men of the mountain-desert were big; there wassomething intensely irritating about their mere physical size; theythrew him continually on the defensive and he found himself makingapologies to himself and summing up personal merits. In this case therewas more direct reason for his anger. It was patent that the man didnot weight the strange doctor against any serious thoughts. 

"And this, " she was saying, "is Mr. Daniels. Buck, is there any change?"

"Nothin' much, " answered Buck Daniels. "Come along towards evening andhe said he was feeling kind of cold. So I wrapped him up in a rug. Thenhe sat some as usual, one hand inside of the other, looking steady atnothing. But a while ago he began getting sort of nervous. "

"What did he do?"

"Nothing. I just _felt_ he was getting excited. The way you know whenyour hoss is going to shy. "

"Do you want to go to your room first, doctor, or will you go in to seehim now?"

"Now, " decided the doctor, and followed her down the hall and through adoor. 

The room reminded the doctor more of a New England interior than of themountain-desert. There was a round rag rug on the floor with everyimaginable colour woven into its texture, but blended with a rudedesign, reds towards the centre and blue-greys towards the edges. Therewere chairs upholstered in green which looked mouse-coloured where thehigh lights struck along the backs and the arms--shallow-seated chairsthat made one's knees project foolishly high and far. Byrne saw acabinet at one end of the room, filled with sea-shells and knicknacks, and above it was a memorial cross surrounded by a wreath inside a glasscase. Most of the wall space thronged with engravings whose subjectsranged from Niagara Falls to Lady Hamilton. One entire end of the roomwas occupied by a painting of a neck and neck finish in a race, and theartist had conceived the blooded racers as creatures with tremendousround hips and mighty-muscled shoulders, while the legs tapered to afaun-like delicacy. These animals were spread-eagled in the most amazingfashion, their fore-hoofs reaching beyond their noses and their rearhoofs striking out beyond the tips of the tails. The jockey in the leadsat quite still, but he who was losing had his whip drawn and lookedlike an automatic doll--so pink were his cheeks. Beside the course, inattitudes of graceful ease, stood men in very tight trousers and veryhigh stocks and ladies in dresses which pinched in at the waist andflowed out at the shoulders. They leaned upon canes or twirled parasolsand they had their backs turned upon the racetrack as if they foundtheir own negligent conversation far more exciting than the breathless, driving finish. 

Under the terrific action and still more terrific quiescence of thispicture lay the sick man, propped high on a couch and wrapped to thechest in a Navajo blanket. 

"Dad, " said Kate Cumberland, "Doctor Hardin was not in town. I'vebrought out Doctor Byrne, a newcomer. "

The invalid turned his white head slowly towards them, and his shaggybrows lifted and fell slightly--a passing shadow of annoyance. It was avery stern face, and framed in the long, white hair it seemedsurrounded by an atmosphere of Arctic chill. He was thin, terriblythin--not the leanness of Byrne, but a grim emaciation which exaggeratedthe size of a tall forehead and made his eyes supernally bright. It wasin the first glance of those eyes that Byrne recognized the restlessnessof which Kate had spoken; and he felt almost as if it were an inner firewhich had burned and still was wasting the body of Joseph Cumberland. Tothe attentions of the doctor the old man submitted with patientself-control, and Byrne found a pulse feeble, rapid, but steady. Therewas no temperature. In fact, the heat of the body was a triflesub-normal, considering that the heart was beating so rapidly. 

Doctor Byrne started. Most of his work had been in laboratories, and thehorror of death was not yet familiar, but old Joseph Cumberland wasdying. It was not a matter of moment. Death might be a week or a monthaway, but die soon he inevitably must; for the doctor saw that the firewas still raging in the hollow breast of the cattleman, but there was nolonger fuel to feed it. 

He stared again, and more closely. Fire without fuel to feed it!

Doctor Byrne gave what seemed to be an infinitely muffled cry ofexultation, so faint that it was hardly a whisper; then he leaned closerand pored over Joe Cumberland with a lighted eye. One might have thoughtthat the doctor was gloating over the sick man. 

Suddenly he straightened and began to pace up and down the room, muttering to himself. Kate Cumberland listened intently and she thoughtthat what the man muttered so rapidly, over and over to himself, was:"Eureka! Eureka! I have found it!"

Found what? The triumph of mind over matter!

On that couch was a dead body. The flutter of that heart was not thestrong beating of the normal organ; the hands were cold; even the bodywas chilled; yet the man lived. 

Or, rather, his brain lived, and compelled the shattered and outwornbody to comply with its will. Doctor Byrne turned and stared again atthe face of Cumberland. He felt as if he understood, now, the look whichwas concentrated so brightly on the vacant air. It was illumined by asteady and desperate defiance, for the old man was denying his body tothe grave. 

The scene changed for Randall Byrne. The girl disappeared. The walls ofthe room were broken away. The eyes of the world looked in upon him andthe wise men of the world kept pace with him up and down the room, shaking their heads and saying: "It is not possible!"

But the fact lay there to contradict them. 

Prometheus stole fire from heaven and paid it back to an eternal death. The old cattleman was refusing his payment. It was no state of coma inwhich he lay; it was no prolonged trance. He was vitally, vividly alive;he was concentrating with a bitter and exhausting vigour day and night, and fighting a battle the more terrible because it was fought insilence, a battle in which he could receive no aid, no reinforcement, abattle in which he could not win, but in which he might delay defeat. 

Ay, the wise men would smile and shake their heads when he presentedthis case to their consideration, but he would make his account soaccurate and particular and so well witnessed that they would have toadmit the truth of all he said. And science, which proclaimed thatmatter was indestructible and that the mind was matter and that thebrain needed nourishment like any other muscle--science would have tohang the head and wonder!

The eyes of the girl brought him to halt in his pacing, and he stopped, confronting her. His excitement had transformed him. His nostrils werequivering, his eyes were pointed with light, his head was high, and hebreathed fast. He was flushed as the Roman Conqueror. And his excitementtinged the girl, also, with colour. 

She offered to take him to his room as soon as he wished to go. He wasquite willing. He wanted to be alone, to think. But when he followed hershe stopped him in the hall. Buck Daniels lumbered slowly after them ina clumsy attempt at sauntering. 

"Well?" asked Kate Cumberland. 

She had thrown a blue mantle over her shoulders when she entered thehouse, and the touch of boyish self-confidence which had been hers onthe ride was gone. In its place there was something even more difficultfor Randall Byrne to face. If there had been a garish brightness abouther when he had first seen her, the brilliancy of a mirror playing inthe sun against his feeble eyes, there was now a blending of pastelshades, for the hall was dimly illumined and the shadow tarnished herhair and her pallor was like cold stone; even her eyes were misted byfear. Yet a vital sense of her nearness swept upon Byrne, and he felt asif he were surrounded--by a danger. 

"Opinions, " said the doctor, "based on so summary an examination arenecessarily inexact, yet the value of a first impression is notnegligible. The best I can say is that there is probably no immediatedanger, but Mr. Cumberland is seriously ill. Furthermore, it is _not_old age. "

He would not say all he thought; it was not yet time. 

She winced and clasped her hands tightly together. She was like a childabout to be punished for a crime it has not committed, and it camevaguely to the doctor that he might have broached his ill tidings moregently. 

He added: "I must have further opportunities for observance before Igive a detailed opinion and suggest a treatment. "

Her glance wandered past him and at once the heavy step of Buck Danielsapproached. 

"At least, " she murmured, "I am glad that you are frank. I don't want tohave anything kept from me, please. Buck, will you take the doctor up tohis room?" She managed a faint smile. "This is an old-fashioned house, Doctor Byrne, but I hope we can make you fairly comfortable. You'll askfor whatever you need?"

The doctor bowed, and was told that they would dine in half an hour, then the girl went back towards the room in which Joe Cumberland lay. She walked slowly, with her head bent, and her posture seemed to Byrnethe very picture of a burden-bearer. Then he followed Daniels up thestairs, led by the jingling of the spurs, great-rowelled spurs thatmight grip the side of a refractory horse like teeth. 

A hall-light guided them, and from the hall Buck Daniels entered a roomand fumbled above him until he had lighted a lamp which was suspended bytwo chains from the ceiling, a circular burner which cast a glow as keenas an electric globe. It brought out every detail of the old-fashionedroom--the bare, painted floor; the bed, in itself a separate andimportant piece of architecture with its four tall posts, a relic of thetimes when beds were built, not simply made; and there was a chest ofdrawers with swelling, hospitable front, and a rectangular mirror abovewith its date in gilt paint on the upper edge. A rising wind shook thewindow and through some crack stirred the lace curtains; it was a verycomfortable retreat, and the doctor became aware of aching muscles and aheavy brain when he glanced at the bed. 

The same gust of wind which rattled the window-pane now pushed, as withinvisible and ghostly hand, a door which opened on the side of thebedroom, and as it swung mysteriously and gradually wide the doctorfound himself looking into an adjoining chamber. All he could seeclearly was a corner on which struck the shaft of light from the lamp, and lying on the floor in that corner was something limp and brown. Asnake, he surmised at first, but then he saw clearly that it was a chainof formidable proportions bolted against the wall at one end andterminating at the other in a huge steel collar. A chill started in theboots of the doctor and wriggled its uncomfortable way up to his head. 

"Hell!" burst out Buck Daniels. "How'd _that_ door get open?" He slammedit with violence. "She's been in there again, I guess, " muttered thecowpuncher, as he stepped back, scowling. 

"Who?" ventured the doctor. 

Buck Daniels whirled on him. 

"None of your--" he began hotly, but checked himself with chokingsuddenness and strode heavily from the room. 

CHAPTER V

THE WAITING

The doctor removed his coat with absent-minded slowness, and all thetime that he was removing the dust and the stains of travel, he keptnarrowing the eye of his mind to visualise more clearly that cumbersomechain which lay on the floor of the adjoining room. Now, the doctor wasnot of a curious or gossipy nature, but if someone had offered to tellhim the story of that chain for a thousand dollars, the doctor at thatmoment would have thought the price ridiculously small. 

Then the doctor went down to the dinner table prepared to keep one eyeupon Buck Daniels and the other upon Kate Cumberland. But if he expectedto learn through conversation at the table he was grievouslydisappointed, for Buck Daniels ate with an eye to strict business thatallowed no chatter, and the girl sat with a forced smile and an absenteye. Now and again Buck would glance up at her, watch her for aninstant, and then turn his attention back to his plate with a sort ofgloomy resolution; there were not half a dozen words exchanged from thebeginning to the end of the meal. 

After that they went in to the invalid. He lay in the same position, his skinny hands crossed upon his breast, and his shaggy brows weredrawn so low that the eyes were buried in profound shadow. They tookpositions in a loose semi-circle, all pointing towards the sick man, andit reminded Byrne with grim force of a picture he had seen of threewolves waiting for the bull moose to sink in the snows: they, also, werewaiting for a death. It seemed, indeed, as if death must have alreadycome; at least it could not make him more moveless than he was. Againstthe dark wall his profile was etched by a sharp highlight which wasbrightest of all on his forehead and his nose; while the lower portionof the face was lost in comparative shadow. 

So perfect and so detailed was the resemblance to death, indeed, thatthe lips in the shadow smiled--fixedly. It was not until Kate Cumberlandshifted a lamp, throwing more light on her father, that Byrne saw thatthe smile was in reality a forcible compression of the lips. Heunderstood, suddenly, that the silent man on the couch was strugglingterribly against an hysteria of emotion. It brought beads of sweat outupon the doctor's tall forehead; for this perfect repose suggested anagony more awful than yells and groans and struggles. The silence waslike acid; it burned without a flame. And Byrne knew, that moment, thequality of the thing which had wasted the rancher. It was this acid ofgrief or yearning which had eaten deep into him and was now close to hisheart. The girl had said that for six months he had been failing. Sixmonths! Six eternities of burning at the stake!

He lay silent, waiting; and his resignation meant that he knew deathwould come before that for which he waited. Silence, that was thekey-note of the room. The girl was silent, her eyes dark with grief; yetthey were not fixed upon her father. It came thrilling home to Byrnethat her sorrow was not entirely for her dying parent, for she lookedbeyond him rather than at him. Was she, too, waiting? Was that what gaveher the touch of sad gravity, the mystery like the mystery of distance?

And Buck Daniels. He, also, said nothing. He rolled cigarettes one afteranother with amazing dexterity and smoked them with half a dozen Titanicbreaths. His was a single-track mind. He loved the girl, and he bore thesign of his love on his face. He wanted her desperately; it was a hungerlike that of Tantalus, too keen to be ever satisfied. Yet, still morethan he looked at the girl, he, also, stared into the distance. He, also, was waiting!

It was the deep suspense of Cumberland which made him so silently alert. He was as intensely alive as the receiver of a wireless apparatus; hegathered information from the empty air. 

So that Byrne was hardly surprised, when, in the midst of that grimsilence, the old man raised a rigid forefinger of warning. Kate andDaniels stiffened in their chairs and Byrne felt his flesh creep. Ofcourse it was nothing. The wind, which had shaken the house with severalstrong gusts before dinner, had now grown stronger and blew withsteadily increasing violence; perhaps the sad old man had been attractedby the mournful chorus and imagined some sound he knew within it. 

But now once more the finger was raised, the arm extended, shakingviolently, and Joe Cumberland turned upon them a glance which flashedwith a delirious and unhealthy joy. 

"Listen!" he cried. "Again!"

"What?" asked Kate. 

"I hear them, I tell you. "

Her lips blanched, and parted to speak, but she checked the impulse andlooked swiftly about the room with what seemed to Byrne an appeal forhelp. As for Buck Daniels, he changed from a dark bronze to an unhealthyyellow; fear, plain and grimly unmistakable, was in his face. Then hestrode to the window and threw it open with a crash. The wind leaped inand tossed the flame in the throat of the chimney, so that great shadowswaved suddenly through the room, and made the chairs seem afloat. Eventhe people were suddenly unreal. And the rush of the storm gave Byrne aneerie sensation of being blown through infinite space. For a momentthere was only the sound of the gale and the flapping of a loose pictureagainst the wall, and the rattling of a newspaper. Then he heard it. 

First it was a single note which he could not place. It was music, andyet it was discordant, and it had the effect of a blast of icy wind. 

Once he had been in Egypt and had stood in a corridor of Cheops'pyramid. The torch had been blown out in the hand of his guide. Fromsomewhere in the black depths before them came a laugh, made unhuman byechoes. And Byrne had visioned the mummied dead pushing back the granitelids of their sarcophagi and sitting upright. 

But that was nothing compared with this. Not half so wild or strange. 

He listened again, breathless, with the sharp prickling running up anddown his spine. It was the honking of the wild geese, flying north. Andout of the sound he builded a picture of the grey triangle cleavingthrough the cold upper sky, sent on a mission no man could understand. 

"Was I right? Was I right?" shrilled the invalid, and when Byrne turnedtowards him, he saw the old man sitting erect, with an expression ofwild triumph. There came an indescribable cry from the girl, and a deepthroated curse from Buck Daniels as he slammed down the window. 

With the chill blast shut off and the flame burning steadily once morein the lamp, a great silence besieged the room, with a note ofexpectancy in it. Byrne was conscious of being warm, too warm. It wasclose in the room, and he was weighted down. It was as if anotherpresence had stepped into the room and stood invisible. He felt it withunspeakable keenness, as when one knows certainly the thoughts whichpass in the mind of another. And, more than that, he knew that theothers in the room felt what he felt. In the waiting silence he saw thatthe old man lay on his couch with eyes of fire and gaping lips, as ifhe drank the wine of his joyous expectancy. And big Buck Daniels stoodwith his hand on the sash of the window, frozen there, his eyes bulging, his heart thundering in his throat. And Kate Cumberland sat with hereyes closed, as she had closed them when the wind first rushed upon her, and she still smiled as she had smiled then. And to Byrne, more terriblethan the joy of Joseph Cumberland or the dread of Buck Daniels was thesmile and the closed eyes of the girl. 

But the silence held and the fifth presence was in the room, and not oneof them dared speak. 

CHAPTER VI

THE MISSION STARTS

Then, with a shifting of the wind, a song was blown to them from thebunk-house, a cheerful, ringing chorus; the sound was like daylight--itdrove the terror from the room. Joe Cumberland asked them to leave him. That night, he said, he would sleep. He felt it, like a promise. Theother three went out from the room. 

In the hall Kate and Daniels stood close together under a faint lightfrom the wall-lamp, and they talked as if they had forgotten thepresence of Byrne. 

"It had to come, " she said. "I knew it would come to him sooner orlater, but I didn't dream it would be as terrible as this. Buck, whatare we going to do?"

"God knows, " said the big cowpuncher. "Just wait, I s'pose, same aswe've been doing. "

He had aged wonderfully in that moment of darkness. 

"He'll be happy now for a few days, " went on the girl, "butafterwards--when he realises that it means nothing--what then, Buck?"

The man took her hands and began to pat them softly as a father mightsoothe a child. 

"I seen you when the wind come in, " he said gently. "Are you going tostand it, Kate? Is it going to be hell for you, too, every time you hear'em?"

She answered: "If it were only I! Yes, I could stand it. Lately I'vebegun to think that I can stand anything. But when I see Dad it breaksmy heart--and you--oh, Buck, it hurts, it hurts!" She drew his handsimpulsively against her breast. "If it were only something we couldfight outright!"

Buck Daniels sighed. 

"Fight?" he echoed hopelessly. "Fight? Against him? Kate, you're alltired out. Go to bed, honey, and try to stop thinkin'--and--God help usall!"

She turned away from him and passed the doctor--blindly. 

Buck Daniels had set his foot on the stairs when Byrne hurried after himand touched his arm; they went up together. 

"Mr. Daniels, " said the doctor, "it is necessary that I speak with you, alone. Will you come into my room for a few moments?"

"Doc, " said the cattleman, "I'm short on my feed and I don't feel a pilelike talkin'. Can't you wait till the morning?"

"There has been a great deal too much waiting, Mr. Daniels, " said thedoctor. "What I have to say to you must be said now. Will you come in?"

"I will, " nodded Buck Daniels. "But cut it short. "

Once in his room the doctor lighted the lamp and then locked the door. 

"What's all the mystery and hush stuff?" growled Daniels, and with agesture he refused the proffered chair. "Cut loose, doc, and make itshort. "

The little man sat down, removed his glasses, held them up to the light, found a speck upon them, polished it carefully away, replaced thespectacles upon his nose, and peered thoughtfully at Buck Daniels. 

Buck Daniels rolled his eyes towards the door and then even towards thewindow, and then, as one who accepts the inevitable, he sank into achair and plunged his hands into his pockets, prepared to endure. 

"I am called, " went on the doctor dryly, "to examine a case in which thepatient is dangerously ill--in fact, hopelessly ill, and I have foundthat the cause of his illness is a state of nervous expectancy on thepart of the sufferer. It being obviously necessary to know the nature ofthe disease and its cause before that cause may be removed, I have askedyou to sit here this evening to give me whatever explanation you mayhave for it. "

Buck Daniels stirred uneasily. At length he broke out: "Doc, I size youup as a gent with brains. I got one piece of advice for you: get thehell away from the Cumberland Ranch and never come back again!"

The doctor flushed and his lean jaw thrust out. 

"Although, " he said, "I cannot pretend to be classed among those to whomphysical fear is an unknown, yet I wish to assure you, sir, that with mephysical trepidation is not an overruling motive. "

"Oh, hell!" groaned Buck Daniels. Then he explained more gently: "Idon't say you're yellow. All I say is: this mess ain't one that you canstraighten out--nor no other man can. Give it up, wash your hands, andgit back to Elkhead. I dunno what Kate was thinkin' of to bring you outhere!"

"The excellence of your intention, " said the doctor, "I shall freelyadmit, though the assumption that difficulty in the essential problemwould deter me from the analysis is an hypothesis which I cannot leaveuncontested. In the vulgar, I may give you to understand that I am inthis to stay!"

Buck Daniels started to speak, but thinking better of it he shrugged hisshoulders and sat back, resigned. 

"Well, " he said, "Kate brought you out here. Maybe she has a reason forit. What d'you want to know?"

"What connection, " said the doctor, "have wild geese with a man, ahorse, and a dog?"

"What in hell d'you know about a horse and a man and a dog--and wildgeese?" inquired Buck in a strained voice. 

"Rumour, " said the doctor, "has been in this instance, unfortunately, myonly teacher. But, sir, I have ascertained that Mr. Cumberland, hisdaughter, and you, sir, are all waiting for a certain thing to come tothis ranch, and that thing I naturally assume to be a man. "

"Doc, " said the cowpuncher sarcastically, "there ain't no doubt you gota wonderful brain!"

"Mockery, " pronounced the man of learning, "is a use of the mentalpowers which is both unworthy and barren and does not in this caseadvance the argument, which is: Who and what is this man for whom youwait?"

"He came, " said Buck Daniels, "out of nowhere. That's all we know aboutwho he is. What is he? I'll tell you easy: He's a gent that looks like aman, and walks like a man, and talks like a man--but he _ain't_ a man. "

"Ah, " nodded the philosopher, "a crime of extraordinary magnitude has, perhaps, cut off this unfortunate fellow from communication with othersof his kind. Is this the case?"

"It ain't, " replied Buck. "Doc, tell me this: Can a wolf commit acrime?"

"Admitting this definition: that crime is the breaking of law, and thatlaw is a force created by reason to control the rational, it may begranted that the acts of the lower animals lie outside of categoriesframed according to ethical precepts. To directly answer your notincurious question: I believe that a wolf cannot commit a crime. "

Buck Daniels sighed. 

"D'you know, doc, " he said gravely, "that you remind me of a side-hillgoat?"

"Ah, " murmured the man of learning, "is it possible? And what, Mr. Daniels, is the nature of a side-hill goat?"

"It's a goat that's got the legs of one side shorter than the legs onthe other side, and the only way he can get to the top of a hill is tokeep trottin' around and around the hill like a five per cent. Grade. Hegoes a mile to get ten feet higher. "

"This fact, " said Byrne, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "is notwithout interest, though I fail to perceive the relation between me andsuch a creature, unless, perhaps, there are biologic similarities ofwhich I have at present no cognition. "

"I didn't think you'd follow me, " replied Buck with an equal gravity. "But you can lay to this, Doc; this gent we're waitin' for ain'tcommitted any more crimes than a wolf has. "

"Ah, I see, " murmured the doctor, "a man so near the brute that hisenormities pass beyond--"

"Get this straight, " said Buck, interrupting with a sternly pointedfinger: "There ain't a kinder or a gentler man in the mountain-desertthan him. He's got a voice softer than Kate Cumberland's, which is somesoft voice, and as for his heart--Doc, I've seen him get off his horseto put a wounded rabbit out of its pain!"

A ring of awe came in the throat of Daniels as he repeated theincredible fact. 

He went on: "If I was in trouble, I'd rather have him beside me than tenother men; if I was sick I'd rather have him than the ten best doctorsin the world; if I wanted a pal that would die for them that done himgood and go to hell to get them that done him bad, I'd choose him first, and there ain't none that come second. "

The panegyric was not a burst of imagination. Buck Daniels was speakingseriously, hunting for words, and if he used superlatives it was becausehe needed them. 

"Extraordinary!" murmured the doctor, and he repeated the word in alouder tone. It was a rare word for him; in all his scholastic careerand in all of his scientific investigations he had found occasion to useso strong a term not more than half a dozen times at the most. He wenton, cautiously, and his weak eyes blinked at Daniels: "And there is arelation between this man and a horse and dog?"

Buck Daniels shuddered and his colour changed. 

"Listen!" he said, "I've talked enough. You ain't going to get anotherword out of me except this: Doc, have a good sleep, get on your hossto-morrow mornin', and beat it. Don't even wait for breakfast. Because, if you _do_ wait, you may get a hand in this little hell of ours. Youmay be waiting, too!" A sudden thought brought him to his feet. He stoodover the doctor. "How many times, " he thundered, "have you seen KateCumberland?"

"To-day, for the first time. "

"Well, " said Daniels, growling with relief, "you've seen her enough. I_know_. " And he turned towards the door. "Unlock, " he commanded. "I'mtired out--and sick--of talking about _him_. "

But the doctor did not move. 

"Nevertheless, " he stated, "you will remain. There is something furtherwhich you know and which you will communicate to me. "

Buck Daniels turned at the door; his face was not pleasant. 

"While observing you as you talked with the girl, " Byrne said, "itoccurred to me that you were holding information from her. The exactnature of that information I cannot state, but it is reasonable todeduce that you could, at the present moment, name the place where theman for whom Mr. Cumberland and his daughter wait is now located. "

Buck Daniels made no reply, but he returned to his chair and slumpedheavily into it, staring at the little doctor. And Byrne realised with athrill of pleasure that he was not afraid of death. 

"I may further deduct, " said the doctor, "that you will go in person tothe place where you know this man may be found and induce him to come tothis ranch. "

The silent anger of Daniels died away. He smiled, and at length helaughed without mirth. 

"Doc, " he said, "if you knew where there was a gun, would that make youwant to put it up agin your head and pull the trigger?"

But the doctor proceeded inexorably with his deductions: "Because youare aware, Mr. Daniels, that the presence of this man may save the lifeof Mr. Cumberland, a thought, to be sure, which might not be accepted bythe medical fraternity, but which may without undue exaggerationdevolve from the psychological situation in this house. "

"Doc, " said Daniels huskily, "you talk straight, and you act straight, and I think you are straight, so I'll take off the bridle and talk free. I know where Whistling Dan is--just about. But if I was to go to him andbring him here I'd bust the heart of Kate Cumberland. D'you understand?"His voice lowered with an intense emotion. "I've thought it out sidewaysand backwards. It's Kate or old Joe. Which is the most important?"

The doctor straightened in the chair, polished his glasses, and peeredonce more at the cowpuncher. 

"You are quite sure, also, that the return of this man, this strangewanderer, might help Mr. Cumberland back to health?"

"I am, all right. He's sure wrapped up in Whistlin' Dan. "

"What is the nature of their relations; what makes him so oddlydependent upon the other?"

"I dunno, doc. It's got us all fooled. When Dan is here it seems likeold Cumberland jest nacherally lives on the things Dan does and hearsand sees. We've seen Cumberland prick up his ears the minute Dan comesinto the room, and show life. Sometimes Dan sits with him and tells himwhat he's been doin'--maybe it ain't any more than how the sky looksthat day, or about the feel of the wind--but Joe sits with his eyesdreamin', like a little kid hearin' fairy stories. Kate says it's beenthat way since her dad first brought Dan in off'n the range. He's beensort of necessary to old Joe--almost like air to breathe. I tell you, it's jest a picture to see them two together. "

"Very odd, very odd, " brooded the doctor, frowning, "but this seems tobe an odd place and an odd set of people. You've no real idea why Danleft the ranch?"

"Ask the wild geese, " said Buck bitterly. He added: "Maybe you'd betterask Dan's black hoss or his dog, Bart. They'd know better'n anythingelse. "

"But what has the man been doing since he left? Have you any idea?"

"Get a little chatter, now and then, of a gent that's rid into a town ona black hoss, prettier'n anything that was ever seen before. 

"It's all pretty much the same, what news we get. Mostly I guess he jestwanders around doin' no harm to nobody. But once in a while somebodysicks a dog on Bart, and Bart jest nacherally chaws that dog in two. Then the owner of the dog may start a fight, and Dan drops him and rideson. "

"With a trail of dead men behind him?" cried the doctor, hunching hisshoulders as if to shake off a chill. 

"Dead? Nope. You don't have to shoot to kill when you can handle a gunthe way Dan does. Nope, he jest wings 'em. Plants a chunk of lead in ashoulder, or an arm, or a leg. That's all. They ain't no love of bloodin Dan--except-----"

"Well?"

"Doc, " said Buck with a shudder, "I ain't goin' to talk about theexceptions. Mostly the news we gets of Dan is about troubles he's had. But sometimes we hear of gents he's helped out when they was sick, andthings like that. They ain't nobody like Dan when a gent is down sick, I'll tell a man!"

The doctor sighed. 

He said: "And do I understand you to say that the girl and thisman--Whistling Dan, as you call him--are intimately and sentimentallyrelated?"

"She loves him, " said Daniels slowly. "She loves the ground he walks onand the places where he's been. "

"But, sir, it would seem probable from your own reasoning that thereturn of the man, in this case, will not be unwelcome to her. "

"Reason?" broke out Daniels bitterly. "What the hell has reason got todo with Whistling Dan? Man, man! if Barry was to come back d'you supposehe'd remember that he'd once told Kate he loved her? Doc, I know him asnear as any man can know him. I tell you, he thinks no more of herthan--than the wild geese think of her. If old Joe dies because Dan isaway--well, Cumberland is an old man anyway. But how could I stand tosee Barry pass Kate by with an empty eye, the way he'd do if he comeback? I'd want to kill him, and I'd get bumped off tryin' it, like asnot. And what would it do to Kate? It'd kill her, Doc, as sure as you'reborn. "

"Your assumption being, " murmured the doctor, "that if she never seesthe man again she will eventually forget him. "

"D'you forget a knife that's sticking into you? No, she won't forgethim. But maybe after a while she'll be able to stand thinkin' about him. She'll get used to the hurt. She'll be able to talk and laugh the wayshe used to. Oh, doc, if you could of seen her as I've seen her in theold days----"

"When the man was with her?" cut in the doctor. 

Buck Daniels caught his breath. 

"Damn your eternal soul, doc!" he said softly. 

And for a time neither of them spoke. Whatever went on in the mind ofDaniels, it was something that contorted his face. As for Byrne, he wastrying to match fact and possibility and he was finding a large gapbetween the two; for he tried to visualise the man whose presence hadbeen food to old Joe Cumberland, and whose absence had taken the oilfrom the lamp so that the flame now flickered dimly, nearly out. But hecould build no such picture. He could merely draw together a vagueabstraction of a man to whom the storm and the wild geese who ride thestorm had meaning and relationship. The logic which he loved wasbreaking to pieces in the hands of Randall Byrne. 

Silence, after all, is only a name, never a fact. There are noises inthe most absolute quiet. If there is not even the sound of the cricketor the wind, if there are not even ghost whispers in the house, there isthe sigh of one's own breathing, and in those moments of deadly waitingthe beat of the heart may be as loud and as awful as the rattle of thedeath-march. Now, between the doctor and the cowpuncher, such a silencebegan. Buck Daniels wanted nothing more in the world than to be out ofthat room, but the eye of the doctor held him, unwilling. And therebegan once more that eternal waiting, waiting, waiting, which was thehorror of the place, until the faint creakings through the windshakenhouse took on the meaning of footsteps stalking down the hall andpausing at the door, and there was the hushing breath of one wholistened and smiled to himself! Now the doctor became aware that the eyeof Buck Daniels was widening, brightening; it was as if the mind of thebig man were giving way in the strain. His face blanched. Even the lipshad no colour, and they moved, gibberingly. 

"Listen!" he said. 

"It is the wind, " answered the doctor, but his voice was hardly audible. 

"Listen!" commanded Daniels again. 

The doctor could hear it then. It was a pulse of sound obscure as thethudding of his heart. But it was a human sound and it made his throatclose up tightly, as if a hand were settling around his wind-pipe. BuckDaniels rose from his chair; that half-mad, half-listening look wasstill in his eyes--behind his eyes. Staring at him the doctorunderstood, intimately, how men can throw their lives away gloriously inbattle, fighting for an idea; or how they can commit secret and foulmurder. Yet he was more afraid of that pulse of sound than of the faceof Buck Daniels. He, also, was rising from his chair, and when Danielsstalked to the side door of the room and leaned there, the doctorfollowed. 

Then they could hear it clearly. There was a note of music in the voice;it was a woman weeping in that room where the chain lay on the floor, coiled loosely like a snake. Buck Daniels straightened and moved awayfrom the door. He began to laugh, guarding it so that not a whispercould break outside the room, and his silent laughter was the mosthorrible thing the doctor had ever seen. It was only for a moment. Thehysteria passed and left the big man shaking like a dead leaf. 

"Doc, " he said, "I can't stand it no longer. I'm going out and try toget him back here. And God forgive me for it. "

He left the room, slamming the door behind him, and then he stamped downthe hall as if he were trying to make a companion out of his noise. Doctor Randall Byrne sat down to put his thoughts in order. He began atthe following point: "The physical fact is not; only the immaterial is. "But before he had carried very far his deductions from this premise, hecaught the neighing of a horse near the house; so he went to the windowand threw it open. At the same time he heard the rattle of gallopinghoofs, and then he saw a horseman riding furiously into the heart of thewind. Almost at once the rider was lost from sight. 

CHAPTER VII

JERRY STRANN

The wrath of the Lord seems less terrible when it is localised, and theworld at large gave thanks daily that the range of Jerry Strann waslimited to the Three B's. As everyone in the mountain-desert knows, theThree B's are Bender, Buckskin, and Brownsville; they make the points ofa loose triangle that is cut with canyons and tumbled with mountains, and that triangle was the chosen stamping ground of Jerry Strann. Jerrywas not born in the region of the Three B's and why it should have beenchosen specially by him was matter which the inhabitants could notpuzzle out; but they felt that for their sins the Lord had probably puthis wrath among them in the form of Jerry Strann. 

He was only twenty-four, this Jerry, but he was already grown into aproverb. Men of the Three B's reckoned their conversational dates by thevisits of the youth; if a storm hung over the mountains someone mightremark: "It looks like Jerry Strann is coming, " and such a remark wasalways received in gloomy silence; mothers had been known to hush theirchildren by chanting: "Jerry Strann will get you if you don't watchout. " Yet he was not an ogre with a red knife between his teeth. Hestood at exactly the perfect romantic height; he was just six feet tall;he was as graceful as a young cotton-wood in a windstorm and he was asstrong and tough as the roots of the mesquite. He was one of those raremen who are beautiful without being unmanly. His face was modelled withthe care a Praxiteles would lavish on a Phoebus. His brown hair wasthick and dark and every touch of wind stirred it, and his hazel eyeswere brilliant with an enduring light--the inextinguishable joy of life. 

Consider that there was no malice in Jerry Strann. But he loved strifeas the young Apollo loved strife--or a pure-blooded bull terrier. Hefought with distinction and grace and abandon and was perfectly willingto use fists or knives or guns at the pleasure of the other contractingparty. In another age, with armour and a golden chain and spurs, JerryStrann would have been--but why think of that? Swords are notforty-fives, and the Twentieth Century is not the Thirteenth. He was, infact, born just six hundred years too late. From his childhood he hadthirsted for battle as other children thirst for milk: and now he rodeanything on hoofs and threw a knife like a Mexican--with eitherhand--and at short range he did snap shooting with two revolvers thatmade rifle experts sick at heart. 

However, the men of the Three B's, as everyone understands, are notgentle or long-enduring, and you will wonder why this young destroyerwas allowed to range at large so long. There was a vital reason. Up inthe mountains lived Mac Strann, the hermit-trapper, who hated everythingin the wide world except his young brother, the beautiful, wild, andsunny Jerry Strann. And Mac Strann loved his brother as much as he hatedeverything else; it is impossible to state it more strongly. It was notlong before the men of the Three B's discovered how Mac Strann feltabout his brother. After Jerry's famous Hallowe'en party in Buckskin, for instance, Williamson, McKenna, and Rath started out to rid thecountry of the disturber. They went out to hunt him as men go out tohunt a wild mustang. And they caught him and bent him down--those threestark men--and he lay in bed for a month; but before the month was overMac Strann came down from his mountain and went to Buckskin and gatheredWilliamson and McKenna and Rath in one public place. And when themorning came Williamson and McKenna and Rath had left this vale of tearsand Mac Strann was back on his mountain. He was not even arrested. Forthere was a devilish cunning about the fellow and he made his victims, without exception, attack him first; then he destroyed them, suddenlyand surely, and retreated to his lair. Things like this happened once ortwice and then the men of the Three B's understood that it was not wiseto lay plots for Jerry Strann. They accepted him, as I have said before, as men accept the wrath of God. 

Let it not be thought that Jerry Strann was a solitary like his brother. When he went out for a frolic the young men of the community gatheredaround him, for Jerry paid all scores and the red-eye flowed in his pathlike wine before the coming of Bacchus; where Jerry went there was nevera dull moment, and young men love action. So it happened that when herode into Brownsville this day he was the leader of a cavalcade. Rumourrode before them, and doors were locked and windows were darkened, andmen sat in the darkness within with their guns across their knees. ForBrownsville lay at the extreme northern tip of the triangle and it wasrarely visited by Jerry; and it is well established that men fear theunfamiliar more than the known. 

As has been said, Jerry headed the train of revellers, partially becauseit was most unwise to cut in ahead of Jerry and partially because therewas not a piece of horseflesh in the Three B's which could outfoot hischestnut. It was a gelding out of the loins of the north wind and siredby the devil himself, and its spirit was one with the spirit of JerryStrann; perhaps because they both served one master. The cavalcade camewith a crash of racing hoofs in a cloud of dust. But in the middle ofthe street Jerry raised his right arm stiffly overhead with a whoop andbrought his chestnut to a sliding stop; the cloud of dust rolled lazilyon ahead. The young men gathered quickly around the leader, and therewas silence as they waited for him to speak--a silence broken only bythe wheezing of the horses, and the stench of sweating horseflesh wasin every man's nostrils. 

"Who owns that hoss?" asked Jerry Strann, and pointed. 

He had stopped just opposite O'Brien's hotel, store, blacksmith shop, and saloon, and by the hitching rack was a black stallion. Now, thereare some men who carry tidings of their inward strength stamped on theirforeheads and written in their eyes. In times of crises crowds will turnto such men and follow them as soldiers follow a captain; for it ispatent at a glance that this is a man of men. It is likewise true thatthere are horses which stand out among their fellows, and this was sucha horse. He was such a creature that, if he had been led to a barrier, the entire crowd at the race track would rise as one man and say: "Whatis that horse?" There were points in which some critics would findfault; most of the men of the mountain-desert, for instance, would havesaid that the animal was too lightly and delicately limbed for longendurance; but as the man of men bears the stamp of his greatness in hisforehead and his eyes, so it was with the black stallion. When thethunder of the cavalcade had rushed upon him down the street he hadturned with catlike grace and raised his head to see; and his foreheadand his eyes arrested Jerry Strann like a levelled rifle. Looking atthat proud head one forgot the body of the horse, the symmetry of curvesexquisite beyond the sculptor's dream, the arching neck and the steelmuscles; one was only conscious of the great spirit. In Human beings werefer to it as "personality. "

After a little pause, seeing that no one offered a suggestion as to theidentity of the owner, Strann said, softly: "That hoss is mine. "

It caused a stir in the crowd of his followers. In the mountain-desertone may deal lightly with a man's wife and lift a random cow or two andsettle the score, at need, with a snug "forty-five" chunk of lead. Butwith horses it is different. A horse in the mountain-desert lies outsideof all laws--and above all laws. It is greater than honour and dearerthan love, and when a man's horse is taken from him the men of thedesert gather together and hunt the thief whether it be a day or whetherit be a month, and when they have reached him they shoot him like a dogand leave his flesh to the buzzards and his bones to the mercilessstars. For all of this there is a reason. But Jerry Strann swung fromhis mount, tossed the reins over the head of the chestnut, and walkedtowards the black with hungry eyes. He was careless, also, and venturingtoo close--the black whirled with his sudden, catlike agility, and twoblack hoofs lashed within a hair's breadth of the man's shoulder. Therewas a shout from the crowd, but Jerry Strann stepped back and smiled sothat his teeth showed. 

"Boys, " he said, but he was really speaking to himself, "there's nothingin the world I want as bad as I want that hoss. Nothing! I'm going tobuy him; where's the owner?"

"Don't look like a hoss a man would want to sell, Jerry, " came asuggestion from the cavalcade, who had dismounted and now pressed behindtheir leader. 

Jerry favoured the speaker with another of his enigmatic smiles: "Oh, "he chuckled, "he'll sell, all right! Maybe he's inside. You gents stickout here and watch for him; I'll step inside. "

And he strode through the swinging doors of the saloon. 

It was a dull time of day for O'Brien, so he sat with his feet on theedge of the bar and sipped a tall glass of beer; he looked up at thewelcome click of the doors, however, and then was instantly on his feet. The good red went out of his face and the freckles over his nose stoodout like ink marks. 

"There's a black hoss outside, " said Jerry, "that I'm going to buy. Where's the owner?"

"Have a drink, " said the bartender, and he forced an amiable smile. 

"I got business on my hands, not drinking, " said Jerry Strann. 

"Lost your chestnut?" queried O'Brien in concern. 

"The chestnut was all right until I seen the black. And now he ain't ahoss at all. Where's the gent I want?"

The bartender had fenced for time as long as possible. 

"Over there, " he said, and pointed. 

It was a slender fellow sitting at a table in a corner of the longroom, his sombrero pushed back on his head. He was playing solitaire andhis back was towards Jerry Strann, who now made a brief survey, hitchedhis cartridge belt, and approached the stranger with a grin. The man didnot turn; he continued to lay down his cards with monotonous regularity, and while he was doing it he said in the gentlest voice that had everreached the ear of Jerry Strann: "Better stay where you are, stranger. My dog don't like you. "

And Jerry Strann perceived, under the shadow of the table, a blackershadow, huge and formless in the gloom, and two spots of incandescentgreen twinkling towards him. He stopped; he even made a step back; andthen he heard a stifled chuckle from the bartender. 

If it had not been for that untimely mirth of O'Brien's probably nothingof what followed would have passed into the history of the Three B's. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE GIFT-HORSE

"Your dog is your own dog, " remarked Jerry Strann, still to the back ofthe card-laying stranger, "but this ain't your back-yard. Keep your eyeon him, or I'll fix him so he won't need watching!"

So saying he made another step forward, and it brought a snarl from thedog; not one of those high-whining noises, but a deep guttural thatsounded like indrawn breath. The gun of Jerry Strann leaped into hishand. 

"Bart, " said the gentle-voiced stranger, "lie down and don't talk. " Andhe turned in his chair, pulled his hat straight, and looked mildly uponthe gunman. An artist would have made much of that picture, for therewas in this man, as in Strann, a singular portion of beauty. It was not, however, free from objection, for he had not the open manliness of thelarger of the two. Indeed, a feminine grace and softness marked him; hiswrists were as round as a girl's, and his hands as slender and asdelicately finished. Whether it be the white-hot sun of summer or thehurricane snows of winter, the climate of the mountain-desert roughensthe skin, and it cuts away spare flesh, hewing out the face in angles;but with this man there were no rough edges, but all was smoothed overand rounded with painful care; as if nature had concentrated in thatbirth to show what she could do. Such fine workmanship, perhaps, wouldbe appreciated more by women than by men; for men like a certain weightand bulk of bone and muscle--whereas this fellow seemed as light of bodyas he was of hand. He sat now watching Strann with the utmost gravity. He had very large brown eyes of a puzzling quality; perhaps that wasbecause there seemed to be no thought behind them and one caught themystery and the wistfulness of some animals from a glance at him. 

The effect of that glance on Strann was to make him grin again, and heat once banished the frown from his forehead and put away his gun; thebig dog had slunk deeper into the shadow and closer to his master. 

"I'm Strann. Maybe you've heard of me. "

"My name is Barry, " said the other. "I'm sorry that I haven't heard ofyou before. "

And the sound of his voice made Jerry Strann grin again; it was such alow, soft voice with the velvet of a young girl's tone in it; moreover, the brown eyes seemed to apologise for the ignorance concerning Strann'sname. 

"You got a hoss out in front. "

A nod of agreement. 

"What's your price?"

"None. "

"No price? Look here, " argued Strann, "everything's got a price, and Igot to have that hoss, understand? _Got_ to! I ain't bargaining. I won'ttry to beat you down. You just set a figger and I'll cover it. I guessthat's square!"

"He ain't a gentle hoss, " said Barry. "Maybe you wouldn't like him. "

"Oh, that's all right about being gentle, " chuckled Strann. Then hechecked his mirth and stared piercingly at the other to make out ifthere were a secret mockery. It could not, however, be possible. Theeyes were as gravely apologetic as ever. He continued: "I seen thehell-fire in him. That's what stopped me like a bullet. I like 'em thatway. Much rather have 'em with a fight. Well, let's have your price. Hey, O'Brien, trot out your red-eye; I'm going to do some businesshere!"

O'Brien came hastily, with drinks, and while they waited Strann queriedpolitely: "Belong around these parts?"

"No, " answered the other softly. 

"No? Where you come from?"

"Over there, " said Barry, and waved a graceful hand towards half thepoints of the compass. 

"H-m-m!" muttered Strann, and once more he bent a keen gaze upon hiscompanion. The drinks were now placed before them. "Here, " he concluded, "is to the black devil outside!" And he swallowed the liquor at a gulp, but as he replaced the empty glass on the table he observed, withbreathless amazement, that the whiskey glass of the stranger was stillfull; he had drunk his chaser!

"Now, by God!" said Strann in a ringing voice, and struck a heavy handupon the top of the table. He regained his control, however, instantly. "Now about that price!"

"I don't know what horses are worth, " replied Barry. 

"To start, then--five hundred bucks in cold cash--gold!--foryour--what's his name?"

"Satan. "

"Eh?"

"Satan. "

"H-m-m!" murmured Strann again. "Five hundred for Satan, then. How aboutit?"

"If you can ride him, " began the stranger. 

"Oh, hell, " smiled Strann with a large and careless gesture, "I'll_ride_ him, all right. "

"Then I would let you take him for nothing, " concluded Barry. 

"You'd--what?" said Strann. Then he rose slowly from his chair andshouted; instantly the swinging doors broke open and a throng of facesappeared at the gap. "Boys, this gent here is going to give me theblack--ha, ha, ha!--if I can ride him!" He turned back on Barry. "They've heard it, " he concluded, "and this bargain is going to stickjust this way. If your hoss can throw me the deal's off. Eh?"

"Oh, yes, " nodded the brown-eyed man. 

"What's the idea?" asked one of Jerry's followers as the latter steppedthrough the doors of the saloon onto the street. 

"I dunno, " said Jerry. "That gent looks kind of simple; but it ain't myfault if he made a rotten bargain. Here, you!"

And he seized the bridle-reins of the black stallion. Speed, lightningspeed, was what saved him, for the instant his fingers touched theleather Satan twisted his head and snapped like an angry dog. The teethclicked beside Strann's shoulder as he leaped back. He laughed savagely. 

"That'll be took out of him, " he announced, "and damned quick!"

Here the voice of Barry was heard, saying: "I'll help you mount, Mr. Strann. " And he edged his way through the little crowd until he stood atthe head of the stallion. 

"Look out!" warned Strann in real alarm, "or he'll take your head off!"

But Barry was already beside his horse, and, with his back towards thosevicious teeth, he drew the reins over its head. As for the stallion, itpricked one ear forward and then the other, and muzzled the man'sshoulder confidingly. There was a liberal chorus of astonished oathsfrom the gathering. 

"I'll hold his head while you get on, " suggested Barry, turning his mildeyes upon Strann again. 

"Well, " muttered the big man, "may I be eternally damned!" He added:"All right. Hold his head, and I'll ride him without pulling leather. Isthat square?"

Barry nodded absently. His slender fingers were patting the velvet noseof the stallion and he was talking to it in an affectionateundertone--meaningless words, perhaps, such as a mother uses to soothe achild. When Strann set his foot in the stirrup and gathered up the reinsthe black horse cringed and shuddered; it was not a pleasant thing tosee; it was like a dog crouching under the suspended whip. It was worsethan that; it was almost the horror of a man who shivers at the touch ofan unclean animal. There was not a sound from the crowd; and every grinwas wiped out. Jerry Strann swung into the saddle lightly. 

There he sat, testing the stirrups. They were too short by inches but herefused to have them lengthened. He poised his quirt and tugged his hatlower over his eyes. 

"Turn him loose!" he shouted. "Hei!"

And his shrill yell went down the street and the echoes sent it barkingback from wall to wall; Barry stepped back from the head of the black. But for an instant the horse did not stir. He was trembling violently, but his blazing eyes were fixed upon the face of his owner. Barry raisedhis hand. 

And then it happened. It was like the release of a coiled watch-spring;the black whirled as a top spins and Strann sagged far to the left;before he could recover the stallion was away in a flash, like a racerleaving the barrier and reaching full speed in almost a stride. Notfar--hardly the breadth of the street--before he pitched up in a longleap as if to clear a barrier, landed stiff-legged with a sickening jar, whirled again like a spinning top, and darted straight back. And JerryStrann pulled leather--with might and main--but the short stirrups wereagainst him, and above all the suddenness of the start had taken him offguard for all his readiness. When the stallion dropped stiff-leggedJerry was thrown forward and an unlucky left foot jarred loose from thestirrup; and when the horse whirled Strann was flung from the saddle. Itwas a clean fall. He twisted over in the air as he fell and landed indeep dust. The black stallion had reached his master and now he turned, in that same catlike manner, and watched with pricking ears as Stranndragged himself up from the dust. 

There was no shout of laughter--no cheer for that fall, and without asmile they watched Strann returning. Big O'Brien had seen from his opendoor and now he laid a hand on the shoulder of one of the men andwhispered at his ear: "There's going to be trouble; bad trouble, Billy. Go for Fatty Matthews--he's a deputy marshal now--and get him here asquick as you can. Run!"

The other spared time for a last glance at Strann and then hurried downthe street. 

Now, a man who can lose and smile is generally considered the mostgraceful of failures, but the smile of Jerry Strann as he walked slowlyback worried his followers. 

"We all hit dust sometime, " he philosophized. "But one try don't provenothin'. I ain't near through with that hoss!"

Barry turned to Strann. If there had been mockery in his eyes or asmile on his lips as he faced Jerry there would have been a gun play onthe spot; but, instead, the brown eyes were as dumbly apologetic asever. 

"We didn't talk about two tries, " he observed. 

"We talk about it now, " said Strann. 

There was one man in the crowd a little too old to be dangerous andtherefore there was one man who was in a position to speak openly toStrann. It was big O'Brien. 

"Jerry, you named your game and made your play and lost. I guess youain't going to turn up a hard loser. Nobody plays twice for the samepot. "

The hazel eye of Strann was grey with anguish of the spirit as he lookedfrom O'Brien to the crowd and from the crowd to Satan, and from Satan tohis meek-eyed owner. Nowhere was there a defiant eye or a glint of scornon which he could wreak his wrath. He stood poised in his anger for thespace of a breath; then, in the sharp struggle, his better natureconquered. 

"Come on in, all of you, " he called. "We'll liquor, and forget this. "

CHAPTER IX

BATTLE LIGHT

O'Brien pressed close to Barry. 

"Partner, " he said rapidly, "you're clear now--you're clear of more hellthat you ever dream. Now climb that hoss of yours and feed him leathertill you get clear of Brownsville--and if I was you I'd never comewithin a day's ride of the Three B's again. "

The mild, brown eyes widened. 

"I don't like crowds, " murmured Barry. 

"You're wise, kid, " grinned the bartender--"a hell of a lot wiser thanyou know right now. On your way!"

And he turned to follow the crowd into the saloon. But Jerry Strannstood at the swinging doors, watching, and he saw Barry linger behind. 

"Are you coming?" he called. 

"I got an engagement, " answered the meek voice. 

"You got another engagement here, " mocked Strann. "Understand?"

The other hesitated for an instant, and then sighed deeply. "I supposeI'll stay, " he murmured, and walked into the bar. Jerry Strann wassmiling in the way that showed his teeth. As Barry passed he saidsoftly: "I see we ain't going to have no trouble, you and me!" and hemoved to clap his strong hand on the shoulder of the smaller man. Oddlyenough, the hand missed, for Barry swerved from beneath it as a wolfswerves from the shadow of a falling branch. No perceptible effort--nosudden start of tensed muscles, but a movement so smooth that it wasalmost unnoticeable. But the hand of Strann fell through thin air. 

"You're quick, " he said. "If you was as quick with your hands as you arewith your feet----"

Barry paused and the melancholy brown eyes dwelt on the face of Strann. 

"Oh, hell!" snorted the other, and turned on his heel to the bar. "Drinkup!" he commanded. 

A shout and a snarl from the further end of the room. 

"A wolf, by God!" yelled one of the men. 

The owner of the animal made his way with unobtrusive swiftness thelength of the room and stood between the dog and a man who fingered thebutt of his gun nervously. 

"He won't hurt you none, " murmured that softly assuring voice. 

"The hell he won't!" responded the other. "He took a pass at my leg justnow and dam' near took it off. Got teeth like the blades of apocket-knife!"

"You're on a cold trail, Sam, " broke in one of the others. "That ain'tany wolf. Look at him now!"

The big, shaggy animal had slunk to the feet of his master and withhead abased stared furtively up into Barry's face. A gesture served assufficient command, and he slipped shadow-like into the corner andcrouched with his head on his paws and the incandescent green of hiseyes glimmering; Barry sat down in a chair nearby. 

O'Brien was happily spinning bottles and glasses the length of the bar;there was the chiming of glass and the rumble of contented voices. 

"Red-eye all 'round, " said the loud voice of Jerry Strann, "but there'sone out. Who's out? Oh, it's _him_. Hey O'Brien, lemonade for the lady. "

It brought a laugh, a deep, good-natured laugh, and then a chorus ofmockery; but Barry stepped unconfused to the bar, accepted the glass oflemonade, and when the others downed their fire-water, he sipped hisdrink thoughtfully. Outside, the wind had risen, and it shook the hoteland carried a score of faint voices as it whirred around corners andthrough cracks. Perhaps it was one of those voices which made the bigdog lift its head from its paws and whine softly! surely it wassomething he heard which caused Barry to straighten at the bar and canthis head slightly to one side--but, as certainly, no one else in thebarroom heard it. Barry set down his glass. 

"Mr. Strann?" he called. 

And the gentle voice carried faintly down through the uproar of the bar. 

"Sister wants to speak to you, " suggested O'Brien to Strann. 

"Well?" roared the latter, "what d'you want?"

The others were silent to listen; and they smiled in anticipation. 

"If you don't mind, much, " said the musical voice, "I think I'll bemoving along. "

There is an obscure little devil living in all of us. It makes the childbreak his own toys; it makes the husband strike the helpless wife; itmakes the man beat the cringing, whining dog. The greatest of Americanwriters has called it the Imp of the Perverse. And that devil came inJerry Strann and made his heart small and cold. If he had been by naturethe bully and the ruffian there would have been no point in all thatfollowed, but the heart of Jerry Strann was ordinarily as warm as theyellow sunshine itself; and it was a common saying in the Three B's thatJerry Strann would take from a child what he would not endure from amountain-lion. Women loved Jerry Strann, and children would crowd abouthis knees, but this day the small demon was in him. 

"You want to be moving along" mimicked the devil in Jerry Strann. "Well, you wait a while. I ain't through with you yet. Maybe--" he paused andsearched his mind. "You've given me a fall, and maybe you can give therest of us--a laugh!"

The chuckle of appreciation went up the bar and down it again. 

"I want to ask you, " went on the devil in Jerry Strann, "where you gotyour hoss?"

"He was running wild, " came the gentle answer. "So I took a walk, oneday, and brought him in. "

A pause. 

"Maybe, " grinned the big man, "you creased him?"

For it is one of the most difficult things in the world to capture awild horse, and some hunters, in their desperation at seeing thewonderful animals escape, have tried to "crease" them. That is, theystrive to shoot so that the bullet will barely graze the top of theanimal's vertebrae, just behind the ears, stunning the horse and makingit helpless for the capture. But necessarily such shots are made from adistance, and little short of a miracle is needed to make the bulletstrike true--for a fraction of an inch too low means death. So anotherlaugh of appreciation ran around the barroom at the mention of creasing. 

"No, " answered Barry, "I went out with a halter and after a while Satangot used to me and followed me home. "

They waited only long enough to draw deep breath; then came a long yellof delight. But the obscure devil was growing stronger and stronger inStrann. He beat on the bar until he got silence. Then he leaned over tomeet the eyes of Barry. 

"That, " he remarked through his teeth, "is a damned--lie!"

There is only one way of answering that word in the mountain-desert, andBarry did not take it. The melancholy brown eyes widened; he sighed, andraising his glass of lemonade sipped it slowly. Came a sick silence inthe barroom. Men turned their eyes towards each other and then flashedthem away again. It is not good that one who has the eyes and the tongueof a man should take water from another--even from a Jerry Strann. Andeven Jerry Strann withdrew his eyes slowly from his prey, and shuddered;the sight of the most grisly death is not so horrible as cowardice. 

And the devil which was still strong in Strann made him look about for anew target; Barry was removed from all danger by an incredible barrier. He found that new target at once, for his glance reached to the cornerof the room and found there the greenish, glimmering eyes of the dog. Hesmote upon the bar. 

"Is this a damned kennel?" he shouted. "Do I got to drink in a barnyard?What's the dog doin' here?"

And he caught up the heavy little whiskey glass and hurled it at thecrouching dog. It thudded heavily, but it brought no yelp of pain;instead, a black thunderbolt leaped from the corner and lunged down theroom. It was the silence of the attack that made it terrible, and Stranncursed and pulled his gun. He could never have used it. He was a wholehalf second too late, but before the dog sprang a voice cut in: "Bart!"

It checked the animal in its very leap; it landed on the floor and slidon stiffly extended legs to the feet of Strann. 

"Bart!" rang the voice again. 

And the beast, flattening to the floor, crawled backwards, inch by inch;it was slavering, and there was a ravening madness in its eyes. 

"Look at it!" cried Strann. "By God, it's mad!"

And he raised his gun to draw the bead. 

"Wait!" called the same voice which had checked the spring of the dog. Surely it could not have come from the lips of Barry. It held aresonance of chiming metal; it was not loud, but it carried like abrazen bell. "Don't do it, Strann!"

And it came to every man in the barroom that it was unhealthy to standbetween the two men at that instant; a sudden path opened from Barry toStrann. 

"Bart!" came the command again. "Heel!"

The dog obeyed with a slinking swiftness; Jerry Strann put up his gunand smiled. 

"I don't take a start on no man, " he announced quite pleasantly. "Idon't need to. But--you yaller hearted houn'--get out from between. WhenI make my draw I'm goin' to kill that damn wolf. "

Now, the fighting face of Jerry Strann was well known in the Three B's, and it was something for men to remember until they died in a peacefulbed. Yet there was not a glance, from the bystanders, for Strann. Theystood back against the wall, flattening themselves, and they stared, fascinated, at the slender stranger. Not that his face had grown ugly bya sudden metamorphosis. It was more beautiful than ever, for the man wassmiling. It was his eyes which held them. Behind the brown a light wasgrowing, a yellow and unearthly glimmer which one felt might be seen onthe darkest night. 

There was none of the coward in Jerry Strann. He looked full into thatyellow, glimmering, changing light--he looked steadily--and a strangefeeling swept over him. No, it was not fear. Long experience had taughthim that there was not another man in the Three B's, with the exceptionof his own terrible brother, who could get a gun out of the leatherfaster than he, but now it seemed to Jerry Strann that he was facingsomething more than mortal speed and human strength and surety. He couldnot tell in what the feeling was based. But it was a giant, dimforeboding holding dominion over other men's lives, and it sent a trainof chilly-weakness through his blood. 

"It's a habit of mine, " said Jerry Strann, "to kill mad dogs when I see'em. " And he smiled again. 

They stood for another long instant, facing each other. It was plainthat every muscle in Strann's body was growing tense; the very smile wasfrozen on his lips. When he moved, at last, it was a convulsive jerk ofhis arm, and it was said, afterward, that his gun was all clear of theleather before the calm stranger stirred. No eye followed what happened. Can the eye follow such speed as the cracking lash of a whip?

There was only one report. The forefinger of Strann did not touch histrigger, but the gun slipped down and dangled loosely from his hand. Hemade a pace forward with his smile grown to an idiotic thing and apatch of red sprang out in the centre of his breast. Then he lurchedheadlong to the floor. 

CHAPTER X

"SWEET ADELINE"

Fatty Matthews came panting through the doors. He was one of those menwho have a leisurely build and a purely American desire for action; sothat he was always hurrying and always puffing. If he mounted a horse, sweat started out from every pore; if he swallowed a glass of red-eye hebreathed hard thereafter. Yet he was capable of great and sustainedexertions, as many and many a man in the Three B's could testify. He wasashamed of his fat. Imagine the soul of a Bald Eagle in the body of aPoland China sow and you begin to have some idea of Fatty Matthews. Fatfilled his boots as with water and he made a "squnching" sound when hewalked; fat rolled along his jowls; fat made his very forehead flabby;fat almost buried his eyes. But nothing could conceal the hawk-line ofhis nose or the gleam of those half-buried eyes. His hair wasshort-cropped, grey, and stood on end like bristles, and he was in thehabit of using his panting breath in humming--for that concealed thepuffing. So Fatty Matthews came through the doors and his little, concealed eyes darted from face to face. Then he kneeled beside Strann. 

He was humming as he opened Jerry's shirt; he was humming as he pulledfrom his bag--for Fatty was almost as much doctor as he was marshal, cowpuncher, miner, and gambler--a roll of cotton and another roll ofbandages. The crowd grouped around him, fascinated, and at hisdirections some of them brought water and others raised and turned thebody while the marshal made the bandages; Jerry Strann was unconscious. Fatty Matthews began to intersperse talk in his humming. 

"You was plugged from in front--my beauty--was you?" grunted Fatty, andthen running the roll of bandage around the wounded man's chest hehummed a bar of:

 _"Sweet Adeline, my Adeline, At night, dear heart, for you I pine. "_

"Was Jerry lookin' the other way when he was spotted?" asked Fatty ofthe bystanders. "O'Brien, you seen it?"

O'Brien cleared his throat. 

"I didn't see nothin', " he said mildly, and began to mop his bar, whichwas already polished beyond belief. 

"Well, " muttered Fatty Matthews, "all these birds get it. And Jerry wassome overdue. Lew, you seen it?"

"Yep. "

"Some drunken bum do it?"

Lew leaned to the ear of the kneeling marshal and whispered briefly. Fatty opened his eyes and cursed until his panting forced him to breakoff and hum. 

"Beat him to the draw?" he gasped at length. 

"Jerry's gun was clean out before the stranger made a move, " assertedLew. 

"It ain't possible, " murmured the deputy, and hummed softly:

 _"In all my dreams, your fair face beams. "_

He added sharply, as he finished the bandaging: "Where'd he head for?"

"No place, " answered Lew. "He just now went out the door. "

The deputy swore again, but he added, enlightened; "Going to pleadself-defense, eh?"

Big O'Brien leaned over the bar. 

"Listen, Fatty, " he said earnestly, "There ain't no doubt of it. Jerryhad his war-paint on. He tried to kill this feller Barry's wolf. "

"Wolf?" cut in the deputy marshal. 

"Dog, I guess, " qualified the bartender. "I dunno. Anyway, Jerry madeall the leads; this Barry simply done the finishing. I say, don't putthis Barry under arrest. You want to keep him here for Mac Strann. "

"That's my business, " growled Fatty. "Hey, half a dozen of you gents. Hook on to Jerry and take him up to a room. I'll be with you in aminute. "

And while his directions were being obeyed he trotted heavily up thelength of the barroom and out the swinging doors. Outside, he found onlyone man, and in the act of mounting a black horse; the deputy marshalmade straight for that man until a huge black dog appeared from nowhereblocking his path. It was a silent dog, but its teeth and eyes saidenough to stop Fatty in full career. 

"Are you Barry?" he asked. 

"That's me. Come here, Bart. "

The big dog backed to the other side of the horse without shifting hiseyes from the marshal. The latter gingerly approached the rider, who satperfectly at ease in the saddle; most apparently he was in no haste toleave. 

"Barry, " said the deputy, "don't make no play when I tell you who I am;I don't mean you no harm, but my name's Matthews, and--" he drew backthe flap of his vest enough to show the glitter of his badge of office. All the time his little beady eyes watched Barry with bird-likeintentness. The rider made not a move. And now Matthews noted more indetail the feminine slenderness of the man and the large, placid eyes. He stepped closer and dropped a confidential hand on the pommel of thesaddle. 

"Son, " he muttered, "I hear you made a clean play inside. Now, I knowStrann and his way. He was in wrong. There ain't a doubt of it, and if Iheld you, you'd get clear on self-defense. So I ain't going to lay ahand on you. You're free: but one thing more. You cut offthere--see?--and bear away north from the Three B's. You got a hoss that_is_, and believe me, you'll need him before you're through. " Helowered his voice and his eyes bulged with the terror of his tidings:"Feed him the leather; ride to beat hell; never stop while your hoss canraise a trot; and then slide off your hoss and get another. Son, inthree days Mac Strann'll be on your trail!"

He stepped back and waved his arms. 

"Now, _vamos!_"

The black stallion flicked back its ears and winced from the outflunghands, but the rider remained imperturbed. 

"I never heard of Mac Strann, " said Barry. 

"You never heard of Mac Strann?" echoed the other. 

"But I'd like to meet him, " said Barry. 

The deputy marshal blinked his eyes rapidly, as though he needed toclear his vision. 

"Son, " he said hoarsely. "I c'n see you're game. But don't make a fallplay. If Mac Strann gets you, he'll California you like a yearling. Youwon't have no chance. You've done for Jerry, there ain't a doubt ofthat, but Jerry to Mac is like a tame cat to a mountain-lion. Lad, I c'nsee you're a stranger to these parts, but ask me your questions and I'lltell you the best way to go. "

Barry slipped from the saddle. 

He said: "I'd like to know the best place to put up my hoss. "

The deputy marshal was speechless. 

"But I s'pose, " went on Barry, "I can stable him over there behind thehotel. "

Matthews pushed off his sombrero and rubbed his short fingers throughhis hair. Anger and amazement still choked him, but he controlledhimself by a praiseworthy effort. 

"Barry, " he said, "I don't make you out. Maybe you figure to wait tillMac Strann gets to town before you leave; maybe you think your hoss canoutrun anything on four feet. And maybe it can. But listen to me: MacStrann ain't fast on a trail, but the point about him is that he neverleaves it! You can go through rain and over rocks, but you can't nevershake Mac Strann--not once he gets the wind of you. "

"Thanks, " returned the gentle-voiced stranger. "I guess maybe he'll beworth meeting. "

And so saying he turned on his heel and walked calmly towards the bigstables behind the hotel and at his heels followed the black dog and theblack horse. As for deputy marshal Matthews, he moistened his lips towhistle, but when he pursed them, not a sound came. He turned at lengthinto the barroom and as he walked his eye was vacant. He was hummingbrokenly:

 _"Sweet Adeline, my Adeline, At night, dear heart, for you I pine. "_

Inside, he took firm hold upon the bar with both pudgy hands. 

"O'Brien, " he said, "red-eye. "

He pushed away the small glass which the bartender spun towards him andseized in its place a mighty water-tumbler. 

"O'Brien, " he explained, "I need strength, not encouragement. " Andfilling the glass nearly to the brim he downed the huge potion at asingle draught. 

CHAPTER XI

THE BUZZARD

Most animals have their human counterparts, and in that room where JerryStrann had fallen a whimsical observer might have termed Jerry, with histawny head, the lion, and O'Brien behind the bar, a shaggy bear, and thedeputy marshal a wolverine, fat but dangerous, and here stood a man asugly and hardened as a desert cayuse, and there was Dan Barry, sleek andsupple as a panther; but among the rest this whimsical observer musthave noticed a fellow of prodigious height and negligible breadth, astructure of sinews and bones that promised to rattle in the wind, along, narrow head, a nose like a beak, tiny eyes set close together andshining like polished buttons, and a vast Adam's apple that rolled upand down the scraggy throat. He might have done for the spirit of Faminein an old play; but every dweller of the mountain-desert would havefound an apter expression by calling him the buzzard of the scene. Through his prodigious ugliness he was known far and wide as "Haw-Haw"Langley; for on occasion Langley laughed, and his laughter was anindescribable sound that lay somewhere between the braying of a mule andthe cawing of a crow. But Haw-Haw Langley was usually silent, and hewould sit for hours without words, twisting his head and making littlepecking motions as his eyes fastened on face after face. All thebitterness of the mountain-desert was in Haw-Haw Langley; if his bodylooked like a buzzard, his soul was the soul of the vulture itself, andtherefore he had followed the courses of Jerry Strann up and down therange. He stuffed his gorge with the fragments of his leader's food; hefed his soul with the dangers which Jerry Strann met and conquered. 

In the barroom Haw-Haw Langley had stood turning his sharp little eyesfrom Jerry Strann to Dan Barry, and from Dan Barry back to Strann; andwhen the shot was fired something like a grin twisted his thin lips; andwhen the spot of red glowed on the breast of the staggering man, theeyes of Haw-Haw blazed as if with the reflection of a devouring fire. Afterwards he lingered for a few minutes making no effort to aid thefallen man, but when he had satisfied himself with the extent of theinjury, and when he had noted the froth of bloody bubbles which stainedthe lips of Strann, Haw-Haw Langley turned and stalked from the room. His eyes were points of light and his soul was crammed to repletion withill-tidings. 

At the hitching rack he stepped into the saddle of a diminutive horse, whirled it into the street with a staggering jerk of the reins, andburied the spurs deep in the cow-pony's flanks. The poor brute snortedand flirted its heels in the air, but Langley wrapped his long legsaround the barrel of his mount and goaded it again. 

His smile, which began with the crack of Barry's gun in O'Brien's place, did not die out until he was many a mile away, headed far up through themountains; but as he put peak after peak behind him and as the whitelight of the day diminished and puffs of blue shadow drowned thevalleys, the grin disappeared from Haw-Haw's face. He became keenlyintent on his course until, having reached the very summit of a tallhill, he came to a halt and peered down before him. 

It was nearly dusk by this time and the eyes of an ordinary man couldnot distinguish a tree from a rock at any great distance; but it seemedthat Haw-Haw was gifted with eyes extraordinary--the buzzard at the topof its sky-towering circles does not see the brown carcass far belowwith more certainty than Haw-Haw sensed his direction. He waited only afew seconds before he rolled the rowel once more along the scored flanksof his mustang and then plunged down the slope at a reckless gallop. 

His destination was a hut, or rather a lean-to, that pressed against theside of the mountain, a crazy structure with a single length of stovepipe leaning awry from the roof. And at the door of this house Haw-HawLangley drew rein and stepped to the ground. The interior of the hut wasdark, but Haw-Haw stole with the caution of a wild Indian to theentrance and reconnoitered the interior, probing every shadowy cornerwith his glittering eyes. For several long moments he continued thisexamination, and even when he was satisfied that there was no one in theplace he did not enter, but moved back several paces from the door andswept the sides of the mountains with an uneasy eye. He made out, ashort distance from the door, a picketed horse which now reared up itshead from the miserable scattering of grass on which it fed and staredat the stranger. The animal must have bulked at least twice as large asthe mount which had brought Langley to the mountain-side. And it wasmuscled even out of proportion to its bulk. The head was so tremendouslybroad that it gave an almost square appearance, the neck, short andthick, the forelegs disproportionately small but very sturdy; and thewhole animal was built on a slope towards the hind quarters which seemedto equal in massiveness all the rest of the body. One would have saidthat the horse was a freak meant by nature for the climbing of hills. And to glance at it no man could suppose that those ponderous limbsmight be moved to a gallop. However, Haw-Haw Langley well knew thepowers of the ugly beast, and he even made a detour and walked about thehorse to view it more closely. 

Now he again surveyed the darkening landscape and then turned once moreto the house. This time he entered with the boldness of a possessorapproaching his hearth. He lighted a match and with this ignited alantern hanging from the wall to the right of the door. The furnishingsof the dwelling were primitive beyond compare. There was no sign of achair; a huddle of blankets on the bare boards of the floor made thebed; a saddle hung by one stirrup on one side and on the other sideleaned the skins of bob-cats, lynx, and coyotes on their stretching anddrying boards. Haw-Haw took down the lantern and examined the pelts. Theanimals had been skinned with the utmost dexterity. As far as he couldsee the hides had not been marred in a single place by slips of theknife, nor were there any blood stains to attest hurried work, orcareless shooting in the first place. The inner surfaces shone with thepure white of old parchment But Haw-Haw gave his chief attention to thelegs and the heads of the skins, for these were the places wherecarelessness or stupidity with the knife were sure to show; but the workwas perfect in every respect. Until even the critical Haw-Haw Langleywas forced to step back and shake his head in admiration. He continuedhis survey of the room. 

In one corner stood a rifle and a shot-gun; in another was a pile ofprovisions--bacon, flour, salt, meal, and little else. Spices andcondiments were apparently unknown to this hermit; nor was there eventhe inevitable coffee, nor any of the molasses or other sweets which thetongue of the desert-mountainer cannot resist. Flour, meat, and water, it seemed, made up the entire fare of the trapper. For cookery there wasan unboarded space in the very centre of the floor with a number ofrocks grouped around in the hole and blackened with soot. The smokemust rise, therefore, and escape through the small hole in the centre ofthe roof. The length of stove-pipe which showed on the roof must havebeen simply the inhabitant's idea of giving the last delicate touch ofcivilisation; it was like a tassel to the cap of the Turk. 

As Haw-Haw's observations reached this point his sharp ear caught thefaint whinny of the big horse outside. He started like one caught in aguilty act, and sprang to the lantern. However, with his hands upon ithe thought better of it, and he placed the light against the wall; thenhe turned to the entrance and looked anxiously up the hillside. 

What he saw was a form grotesque beyond belief. It seemed to be somegigantic wild beast--mountain lion or great bear, though of a sizebeyond credence--which slowly sprawled down the slope walking erect uponits hind feet with its forelegs stretched out horizontal, as if it werewarning all who might behold it away. Haw-Haw grew pale andinvoluntarily reached for his gun as he first beheld this apparition, but instantly he saw the truth. It was a man who carried a burden downthe mountain-side. The burden was the carcass of a bear; the man haddrawn the forelegs over his shoulders--his jutting elbows making whathad seemed the outstretched arms--and above the head of theburden-bearer rose the great head of the bear. As the man came closerthe animal's head flopped to one side and a red tongue lolled from itsmouth. Haw-Haw Langley moved back step by step through the cabin untilhis shoulders struck the opposite wall, and at the same time Mac Strannentered the room. He had no ear for his visitor's hail, but cast hisburden to the floor. It dropped with a shock that shook the house fromthe rattling stove-pipe to the crackling boards. For a moment Mac Strannregarded his prey. Then he stooped and drew open the great jaws. Themouth within was not so red as the bloody hands of Mac Strann; and thebig, white fangs, for some reason, did not seem terrible in comparisonwith the hunter. Having completed his survey he turned slowly uponHaw-Haw Langley and lowered his eyebrows to stare. 

So doing, the light for the first time struck full upon his face. Haw-Haw Langley bit his thin lips and his eyes widened almost to thenormal. 

For the ugliness of Mac Strann was that most terrible species ofugliness--not disfigured features but a discord which pervaded the manand came from within him--like a sound. Feature by feature his face wasnot ugly. The mouth was very large, to be sure, and the jaw too heavilysquare, and the nose needed somewhat greater length and less width forreal comeliness. The eyes were truly fine, being very large and black, though when Mac Strann lowered his bush of brows his eyes werepractically reduced to gleams of light in the consequent shadow. Therewas a sharp angle in his forehead, the lines of it meeting in the centreand shelving up and down. One felt, unpleasantly, that there were heavymuscles overlaying that forehead. One felt that to the touch it would bea pad of flesh, and it gave to Mac Strann, more than any other feature, a peculiar impression of resistless physical power. 

In the catalogue of his features, indeed, there was nothing severelyobjectionable; but out of it came a feeling of _too much strength!_ Aglance at his body reinsured the first thought. It was not normal. Hisshirt bulged tightly at the shoulders with muscles. He was nottall--inches shorter than his brother Jerry, for instance--but the bulkof his body was incredible. His torso was a veritable barrel that bulgedout both in the chest and the back. And even the tremendous thighs ofMac Strann were perceptibly bowed out by the weight which they had tocarry. And there was about his management of his arms a peculiarawkwardness which only the very strongest of men exhibit--as if theywere burdened by the weight of their mere dangling hands. 

This giant, having placed his eyes in shadow, peered for a long momentat Haw-Haw Langley, but very soon his glance began to waver. It flashedtowards the wall--it came back and rested upon Langley again. He waslike a dog, restless under a steady stare. And as Haw-Haw Langley notedthis a glitter of joy came in his beady eyes. 

"You're Jerry's man, " said Mac Strann at length. 

There was about his voice the same fleshy quality that was in his face;it came literally from his stomach, and it made a peculiar rustlingsound such as comes after one has eaten sticky sweet things. Peoplecould listen to the voice of Mac Strann and forget that he was speakingwords. The articulation ran together in a sort of glutinous mass. 

"I'm a friend of Jerry's, " said the other. "I'm Langley. "

The big man stretched out his hand. The hair grew black, down to theknuckles; the blood of the bear still streaked it; it was large enoughto be an organism with independent life. But when Langley, with somemisgiving, trusted his own bony fingers within that grasp, in was onlyas if something fleshy, soft, and bloodless had closed over them. Whenhis hand was released he rubbed it covertly against his trowser leg--toremove dirt--restore the circulation. He did not know why. 

"Who's bothering Jerry?" asked Mac Strann. "And where is he?"

He went to the wall without waiting for an answer and took down thesaddle. Now the cowpuncher's saddle is a heavy mass of leather andsteel, and the saddle of Mac Strann was far larger than the ordinary. Yet he took down the saddle as one might remove a card from a rack. Haw-Haw Langley moved towards the door, to give himself a free space forexit. 

"Jerry's hurt, " he said, and he watched. 

There was a ripple of pain on the face of Mac Strann. 

"Hoss kicked him--fall on him?" he asked. 

"It weren't a hoss. "

"Huh? A cow?"

"It weren't no cow. It weren't no animal. "

Mac Strann faced full upon Langley. When he spoke it seemed as if itwere difficult for him to manage his lips. They lifted an appreciablespace before there was any sound. 

"What was it?"

"A man. "

Langley edged back towards the door. 

"What with?"

"A gun. "

And Langley saw the danger that was coming even before Mac Strann moved. He gave a shrill yelp of terror and whirled and sprang for the open. ButMac Strann sprang after him and reached. His whole body seemed tostretch like an elastic thing, and his arm grew longer. The handfastened on the back of Langley, plucked him up, and jammed him againstthe wall. Haw-Haw crumpled to the floor. 

He gasped: "It weren't me, Mac. For Gawd's sake, it weren't me!"

His face was a study. There was abject terror in it, and yet there wasalso a sort of grisly joy, and his eyes feasted on the silent agony ofMac Strann. 

"Where?" asked Mac Strann. 

"Mac, " pleaded the vulture who cringed on the floor, "gimme your wordyou ain't goin' to hold it agin me. "

"Tell me, " said the other, and he framed the face of the vulture betweenhis large hands. If he pressed the heels of those hands together boneswould snap, and Haw-Haw Langley knew it. And yet nothing but a wilddelight could have set that glitter in his little eyes, just as nothingbut a palsy of terror could have set his limbs twitching so. 

"Who shot him from behind?" demanded the giant. 

"It wasn't from behind, " croaked the bearer of ill-tidings. "It was fromthe front. "

"While he wasn't looking?"

"No. He was beat to the draw. "

"You're _lyin'_ to me, " said Mac Strann slowly. 

"So help me God!" cried Langley. 

"Who done it?"

"A little feller. He ain't half as big as me. He's got a voice likeKitty Jackson, the school-marm; and he's got eyes like a starvedpup. It was him that done it. "

The eyes of Mac Strann grew vaguely meditative. 

"Nope, " he mused, in answer to his own thoughts, "I won't use no rope. I'll use my hands. Where'd the bullet land?"

A fresh agony of trembling shook Langley, and a fresh sparkle came inhis glance. 

"Betwixt his ribs, Mac. And right on through. And it come out his back!"

But there was not an answering tremor in Mac Strann. He let his handsfall away from the face of the vulture and he caught up the saddle. Langley straightened himself. He peered anxiously at Strann, as if hefeared to miss something. 

"I dunno whether he's livin' right now, or not, " suggested Haw-Haw. 

But Mac Strann was already striding through the door. 

 * * * * *

Sweat was pouring from the lather-flecked bodies of their horses whenthey drew rein, at last, at the goal of their long, fierce ride; andHaw-Haw slunk behind the broad form of Mac Strann when the latter strodeinto the hotel. Then the two started for the room in which, they weretold, lay Jerry Strann. 

"There it is, " whispered Haw-Haw, as they reached the head of thestairs. "The door's open. If he was dead the door would be closed, mostlike. "

They stood in the hall and looked in upon a strange picture, for flat inthe bed lay Jerry Strann, his face very white and oddly thin, and overhim leaned the man who had shot him down. 

They heard Dan Barry's soft, gentle voice query: "How you feelin' now, partner?"

He leaned close beside the other, his fingers upon the wrist of Jerry. 

"A pile better, " muttered Jerry Strann. "Seems like I got more'n afightin' chance to pull through now. "

"Jest you keep lyin' here quiet, " advised Dan Barry, "and don't stiraround none. Don't start no worryin'. You're goin' to live's long as youdon't lose no more blood. Keep your thoughts quiet. They ain't no causefor you to do nothin' but jest keep your eyes closed, and breathe, andthink of yaller sunshine, and green grass in the spring, and the windlazyin' the clouds along across the sky. That's all you got to thinkabout. Jest keep quiet, partner. "

"It's easy to do it now you're with me. Seems like they's a pile ofstrength runnin' into me from the tips of your fingers, my frien'. And--I was _some_ fool to start that fight with you, Barry. "

"Jest forget all that, " murmured the other. "And keep your voice down. I've forgot it; you forget it. It ain't never happened. "

"What's it mean?" frowned Mac Strann, whispering to Haw-Haw. 

The eyes of the latter glittered like beads. 

"That's him that shot Jerry, " said Haw-Haw. "Him!"

"Hell!" snarled Mac Strann, and went through the door. 

At the first sound of his heavy footfall, the head of Barry raised andturned in a light, swift movement. The next instant he was on his feet. A moment before his face had been as gentle as that of a mother leaningover a sick child; but one glimpse of the threat in the contorted browsof Mac Strann set a gleam in his own eyes, an answer as distinct as theclick of metal against metal. Not a word had been said, but Jerry, whohad lain with his eyes closed, seemed to sense a change in theatmosphere of peace which had enwrapped him the moment before. His eyesflashed open; and he saw his burly brother. 

But Mac Strann had no eye for any saving Dan Barry. 

"Are you the creepin', sneakin' snake that done--this?"

"You got me figured right, " answered Dan coldly. 

"Then, by God------" began the roaring voice of Mac, but Jerry Strannstirred wildly on the bed. 

"Mac!" he called, "Mac!" His voice went suddenly horribly thick, abubbling, liquid sound. "For God's sake, Mac!"

He had reared himself up on one elbow, his arm stretched out to hisbrother. And a foam of crimson stood on his lips. 

"Mac, don't pull no gun! It was me that was in wrong!"

And then he fell back in the bed, and into the arms of Mac, who wasbeside him, moaning: "Buck up, Jerry. Talk to me, boy!"

"Mac, you've finished the job, " came the husky whisper. 

Mac Strann raised his head, and his terrible eyes fixed upon Dan Barry. And there was no pity in the face of the other. The first threat hadwiped every vestige of human tenderness out of his eyes, and now, withsomething like a sneer on his lips, and with a glimmer of yellow lightin his eyes, he was backing towards the door, and noiselessly as ashadow he slipped out and was gone. 

CHAPTER XII

FINESSE

"A man talks because he's drunk or lonesome; a girl talks because that'sher way of takin' exercise. "

This was a maxim of Buck Daniels, and Buck Daniels knew a great dealabout women, as many a school marm and many a rancher's daughter of themountain-desert could testify. 

Also Buck Daniels said of women: "It ain't what you say to 'em so muchas the tune you put it to. "

Now he sat this day in O'Brien's hotel dining-room. It was the lazy andidle hour between three and four in the afternoon, and since the men ofthe mountain-desert eat promptly at six, twelve, and six, there was nota soul in the room when he entered. Nor was there a hint of eatingutensils on the tables. Nevertheless Buck Daniels was not dismayed. Heselected a corner-table by instinct and smote upon the surface with theflat of his hand. It made a report like the spat of a forty-five; heavyfootsteps approached, a door flung open, and a cross-eyed slattern stoodin the opening. At the sight of Buck Daniels sitting with his hands onhis hips and his sombrero pushed back to a good-natured distance on hishead the lady puffed with rage. 

"What in hell d'you think this is?" bellowed this gentle creature, andthe tone echoed heavily back from all four walls. "You're three hourslate and you get no chuck here. On your way, stranger!"

Buck Daniels elevated himself slowly from the chair and stood at hisfull height. With a motion fully as deliberate he removed his sombreroand bowed to such a depth that the brim of the hat brushed the floor. 

"Lady, " he said humbly, "I was thinkin' that some gent run this hereeatin' place. Which if you'll excuse me half a minute I'll rambleoutside and sluice off some of the dust. If I'd known you was here Iwouldn't of thought of comin' in here like this. "

The lady with the defective eyes glared fiercely at him. Her judgmentwavered two ways. Her first inclination was to hold that the fellow wasjibing at her covertly, and she followed her original impulse far enoughto clasp a neighboring sugar-bowl in a large, capable hand. A second andmore merciful thought entered her brain and stole slowly through it, like a faint echo in a great cave. 

"You don't have to make yourself pretty to talk to me, " she saidthoughtfully. "But if you're here for chow you're too late. "

"Ma'am, " said Buck Daniels instantly, "when I come in here I was hungryenough to eat nails; but I'll forget about chuck if you'll sit down an'chin with me a while. "

The large hand of the cross-eyed lady stole out once more and restedupon the sugar-bowl. 

"D'you mind sayin' that over agin?" she queried. 

"Lonesomeness is worse'n hunger, " said Buck Daniels, and he met her gazesteadily with his black eyes. 

The hand released the sugar-bowl once more; something resembling colourstole into the brown cheeks of the maiden. 

She said, relentingly: "Maybe you been off by yourse'f mining, stranger?"

Buck Daniels drew a long breath. 

"Mines?" he said, and then laughed bitterly. "If that was all I beendoin'--" he began darkly--and then stopped. 

The waitress started. 

"Maybe this here is my last chance to get chuck for days an' days. Well, let it go. If I stayed here with you I'd be talkin' too much!"

He turned slowly towards the door. His step was very slow indeed. 

"Wait a minute, " called the maiden. "There ain't any call for that play. If you're in wrong somewhere--well, stranger, just take that chair andI'll have some ham-and in front of you inside of a minute. "

She had slammed through the door before Buck turned, and he sat down, smiling pleasantly to himself. Half of a mirror decorated the wallbeside his table, and into this Buck peered. His black locks were sadlydisarrayed, and he combed them into some semblance of order with hisfingers. He had hardly finished this task when the door was kicked openwith such force that it whacked against the wall, and the waitressappeared with an armful of steaming food. Before Buck's widening eyesshe swiftly set forth an array of bread, butter in chunks, crispFrench-fried potatoes, a large slab of ham on one plate and severalfried eggs on another, and above all there was a mighty pewter cup ofcoffee blacker than the heart of night. Yearning seized upon BuckDaniels, but policy was stronger than hunger in his subtle mind. He roseagain; he drew forth the chair opposite his own. 

"Ma'am, " said Buck Daniels, "ain't you going to favor me by sittin'down?"

The lady blinked her unfocused eyes. 

"Ain't I what?" she was finally able to ask. 

"I know, " said Buck Daniels swiftly, "that you're terrible busy; whichyou ain't got time to waste on a stranger like me. "

She turned upon Buck those uncertain and wistful eyes. It was a generousface. Mouth, cheekbones, and jaw were of vast proportions, while theforehead, eyes, and nose were as remarkably diminutive. Her glancelowered to the floor; she shrugged her wide shoulders and began to wipethe vestiges of dishwater from her freckled hands. 

"You men are terrible foolish, " she said. "There ain't no tellin' whatyou mean by what you say. "

And she sank slowly into the chair. It gave voice in sharp protest ather weight. Buck Daniels retreated to the opposite side of the tableand took his place. 

"Ma'am, " he began, "don't I look honest?" So saying, he slid half adozen eggs and a section of bacon from the platter to his plate. 

"I dunno, " said the maiden, with one eye upon him and the other plunginginto the future. "There ain't no trusting men. Take 'em by the lot andthey're awful forgetful. "

"If you knowed me better, " said Buck sadly, disposing of a slab of breadspread thick with the pale butter and following this with a pile offried potatoes astutely balanced on his knife. "If you knowed me better, ma'am, you wouldn't have no suspicions. "

"What might it be that you been doin'?" asked the girl. 

Buck Daniels paused in his attack on the food and stared at her. 

He quoted deftly from a magazine which had once fallen in his way: "Someday maybe I can tell you. There's something about your eyes that tellsme you'd understand. "

At the mention of her eyes the waitress blinked and stiffened in herchair, while a huge, red fist balled itself in readiness for action. Butthe expression of Buck Daniels was as blandly open as the smile ofinfancy. The lady relaxed and an unmistakable blush tinged even her nosewith colour. 

"It ain't after my nature to be askin' questions, " she announced. "Youdon't have to tell me no more'n you want to. "

"Thanks, " said Buck instantly. "I knew you was that kind. It ain'thard, " he went on smoothly, "to tell a lady when you see one. I can tellyou this much to start with. I'm lookin' for a quiet town where I cansettle down permanent. And as far as I can see, Brownsville looks sortof quiet to me. "

So saying, he disposed of the rest of his food by an act akin tolegerdemain, and then fastened a keen eye upon the lady. She was in themidst of a struggle of some sort. But she could not keep the truth fromher tongue. 

"Take it by and large, " she said at length, "Brownsville is as peaceableas most; but just now, stranger, it's all set for a big bust. " Sheturned heavily in her chair and glanced about the room. Then she facedDaniels once more and cupped her hands about her mouth. "Stranger, " shesaid in a stage whisper, "Mac Strann is in town!"

The eyes of Buck Daniels wandered. 

"Don't you know him?" she asked. 

"Nope. "

"Never heard of him?"

"Nope. "

"Well, " sighed the waitress, "you've had some luck in your life. Take across between a bulldog and a mustang and a mountain-lion--that's MacStrann. He's in town, and he's here for killin'. "

"You don't say, ma'am. And why don't they lock him up?"

"Because he ain't done nothin' yet to be locked up about. That's the waywith him. And when he does a thing he always makes the man he's afterpull his gun first. Smart? I'll say he's just like an Indian, that MacStrann!"

"But who's he after?"

"The feller that plugged his brother, Jerry. "

"Kind of looks like he had reason for a killing, then. "

"Nope. Jerry had it comin' to him. He was always raising trouble, Jerrywas. And this time, he pulled his gun first. Everybody seen him. "

"He run into a gunman?"

"Gunman?" she laughed heartily. "Partner, if it wasn't for somethingfunny about his eyes, I wouldn't be no more afraid of that gunman than Iam of a tabby-cat. And me a weak woman. The quietest lookin' sort thatever come to Brownsville. But there's something queer about him. Heknows that Mac Strann is here in town. He knows that Mac Strann iswaiting for Jerry to die. He knows that when Jerry dies Mac will be outfor a killin'. And this here stranger is just sittin' around and waitin'to be killed! Can you beat that?"

But Buck Daniels had grown strangely excited. 

"What did you say there was about his eyes?" he asked sharply. 

She grew suddenly suspicious. 

"D' you know him?"

"No. But you was talkin' about his eyes?"

"I dunno what it is. I ain't the only one that's seen it. There ain't noword you can put to it. It's just there. That's all. "

The voice of Buck Daniels fell to a whisper. 

"It's sort of fire, " he suggested. "Ain't it a kind of light _behind_his eyes?"

But the waitress stared at him in amazement. 

"Fire?" she gasped. "A light _behind_ his eyes? M'frien', are you tryin'to string me?"

"What's his name?"

"I dunno. "

"Ma'am, " said Daniels, rising hastily. "Here's a dollar if you'll takeme to him. "

"You don't need no guide, " she replied. "Listen to that, will you?"

And as he hearkened obediently Buck Daniels heard a strain of whistling, needle-sharp with distance. 

"That's him, " nodded the woman. "He's always goin' about whistling tohimself. Kind of a nut, he is. "

"It's him!" cried Buck Daniels. "It's him!"

And with this ungrammatical burst of joy he bolted from the room. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE THREE

The whistling came from behind the hotel, and although it ended as soonas he reached the veranda of the building, Buck Daniels hurried to therear of the place. There were the long, low sheds of the barn, andbehind these, he knew, must be the corrals. He raced around the cornerof the shed and there came to a halt, for he saw a thing that turned hisblood to ice. 

One of those rare rains of the mountain-desert had recently fallen andthe corrals behind the barn were carpeted with a short, thick grass. Inthe small corral nearest him he beheld, rolling on that carpet of grass, a great wolf--or a dog as large and as rough-coated as a wolf, and aman; and they were engaged in a desperate and silent struggle formastery. Their movements were so lightning fast that Buck Daniels couldnot make out distinct forms from the tangle. But he saw the great whiteteeth of the wolf flash in the sun one instant, and the next the man hadwhirled on top. It was Dan and Bart at play. 

No outcry from Dan; no growl from the wolf. Buck felt the old chillwhich never left him when he saw the fierce game of the wolf and thewolf-man. All this passed in the twinkling of an eye, and then Dan, by aprodigious effort, had thrown the great beast away from him, so thatBart fell upon its back. Dan leaped with outstretched arms upon thefallen animal, and buried his clutching hands in the throat of thebeast. 

Yet still there was a thrill to add to these, for now a black horseappeared in the picture, a miracle of slender, shimmering grace--and herushed with flattened ears upon the two twisting, writhing, prostratefigures. His teeth were bared--he was more like a prodigious dog than ahorse. And those teeth closed on the back of the man's neck--or did theymerely pinch his shirt?--and then Dan was dragged bodily away from thewolf and thrown through the air by a flirt of the stallion's head. 

Horrible! Buck Daniels shuddered and then he grinned shamefacedly inapology to himself. 

"The three of 'em!" he grunted, and stepped closer to the fence towatch. 

The instant the man was torn away by the intercession of the horse, thewolf regained its feet and rushed upon him; but Dan had landed from hisfall upon his feet, with catlike agility, and now he dodged the rush ofthe wolf and the arrowy spring of the creature, and sprang in his turntowards the stallion. 

The black met this attack by rearing, his ears flattened, his teethbared, his eyes terrible to behold. As the man raced close the stallionstruck with lightning hoofs, but the blow failed of its mark--by thebreadth of a hair. And the assailant, swerving like a will-o'-the-wisp, darted to the side of the animal and leaped upon its back. At the sameinstant the wolf left the ground with terribly gaping mouth in a springfor the rider; but Dan flattened himself along the shining back of hismount and the wolf catapulted harmlessly past. 

After this failure the wolf-dog seemed to desire no further active partin the struggle, but took up a position to one side, and there, withlolling tongue and red-stained eyes, watched the battle continue. Thestallion, to be sure, kept up the conflict with a whole-hearted energy. Never had Buck Daniels in a long and varied career seen such wildpitching. The black leaped here and there, doubling about with thesinuous speed of a snake, springing high in the air one instant, andlanding the next on stiff legs; dropping to the ground the next second, and rolling to crush the rider; up again like a leaf jerked up by a galeof wind, and so the fierce struggle continued, with the wild riderslapping the neck of the horse as if he would encourage it to moreterrible efforts, and drumming its round barrel with vindictive heels. His hair blew black; his face flushed; and in his eyes there was the joyof the sailor, long land-bound, who climbs at last the tallest mast andfeels it pitch beneath him and catches the sharp tang of the travelledwind. 

The struggle ceased as if in obedience to an inaudible command. From thefull frenzy of motion horse and man were suddenly moveless. Then Danslipped from his seat and stood before his mount. At once the ears ofthe stallion, which had been flat back, pricked sharply forward; theeyes of the animal grew luminous and soft as the eyes of a woman, and hedropped the black velvet of his muzzle beneath the master's chin. As forDan Barry, he rewarded this outburst of affection with no touch of hishand; but his lips moved, and he seemed to be whispering a secret to hishorse. The wolf in the meantime had viewed this scene with growingunrest, and now it trotted up and placed itself at the side of the man. Receiving no attention in this position, it caught the arm of the manbetween its great fangs and drew his hands down. The stallion, angeredby this interruption, raised a delicate forefoot to strike, and wasreceived with a terrific snarl--the first sound of the entire scene. 

"Bart, " said the man, and his voice was not raised or harsh, but came assoftly as running water, "if you ain't going to be a gentleman, I gotto teach you manners. Get up on Satan's back and lie down till I tellyou to get off. "

The wolf received this command with a snarl even more blood-curdlingthan before, but he obeyed, slinking sidewise a reluctant pace or two, and then springing to the back of the stallion with a single bound. There he crouched, still snarling softly until his master raised asignificant forefinger. At that he lowered his head and maintained afiercely observant silence. 

"Dan!" called Buck Daniels. 

The other whirled. 

"Speakin' of pets, " observed Buck Daniels, "I heard tell once about agent that had a tame lion. Which you got the outbeatingest pair I eversee, Dan. Gentle, ain't they, like a stampede of cows!"

But Barry left this remark unanswered. He ran to the tall fence, placedhis hand on the top rail, and vaulted lightly over it. Then he claspedthe hand of the larger man, and his face lighted. 

"Buck, " he said, "I been sort of lonesome. It feels pretty good to seeyou agin. "

"Oh man, " answered Buck Daniels, "speakin' of bein' lonesome------" Hechecked himself. "How about steppin' inside and havin' a talk?"

The other started forward agreeably, but stopped almost at once. 

"Heel!" he called, without turning his head. 

Black Bart left the back of the stallion in a long bound that carriedhim half way to the fence. His next leap brought him over the rail andbeside his master. Buck Daniels moved back a step involuntarily. 

"Bart, " he said, "d'you know me?"

He stretched out his hand; and was received with a sudden baring of thefangs. 

"Nice dog!" said Buck sarcastically. "Regular house-pet, ain't he?"

The other apparently missed the entire point of this remark. He said inhis gentle, serious way: "He used to be real wild, Buck. But now hedon't mind people. He let the cook feed him a chunk o' meat the otherday; and you remember he don't usually touch stuff that other men havehandled. "

"Yep, " grunted Buck, "it's sure disgustin' to have a dog as tame asthat. I'd bet he ain't killed another dog for a whole day, maybe!"

And still Barry saw no irony in this. 

He answered, as gravely as before: "No, it was the day before yesterday. Somebody come to town and got drunk. He had two dogs, and sicked 'em onBart. "

Buck Daniels controlled an incipient shudder. 

"Both dead?"

"I was inside the house, " said Dan sadly, "and it took me a couple ofseconds to get outside. Of course by that time Bart had cut theirthroats. "

"Of course. Didn't the drunk guy try to pot Bart?"

"Yes, he got out his gun; but, Mr. O'Brien, the bartender, persuaded himout of it. I was glad there wasn't no trouble. "

"My God!" exclaimed Buck Daniels. And then: "Well, let's go inside. We'll take your man-eater along, if you want to. "

A shadow came in the eyes of Barry. 

"Can't we talk jest as well out here?"

"What's the matter with findin' some chairs?"

"Because I don't like to get inside walls. You know how four walls seemlike so many pairs of eyes standin' around you?"

"No, " said Buck bluntly, "I don't know nothin' of the kind. What d'youmean?"

"I dunno, " answered Barry, depressed. "It jest seems that way. Ain't younoticed how sort of close it is in a house? Hard to breathe? Like you hadon a shirt too small for you. "

"We'll stay out here, then. "

The other nodded, smiled, and made a gesture to the dog behind him. Black Bart crouched on the ground, and Dan Barry sat down cross-legged, his shoulders leaning against the shaggy pelt of Bart. Daniels followedthe example with less grace. He was thinking very hard and fast, and herolled a Durham cigarette to fill the interlude. 

"I s'pose you're bustin' to find out the news about the folks, " he saiddryly, at last. 

The other sat with his hands loosely clasped in his lap. His wide eyeslooked far away, and there was about his lips that looseness, that lackof compression, which one sees so often in children. He might have sat, in that posture, for the statue of thoughtlessness. 

"What folks?" he asked at last

Buck Daniels had lighted a match, but now he sat staring blank until thematch burned down to his fingers. With an oath he tossed the remnantaway and lighted another. He had drawn down several long breaths ofsmoke to the bottom of his lungs before he could speak again. 

"Some people you used to know; I suppose you've forgotten all about 'em, eh?" His eyes narrowed; there was a spark of something akin to dread inthem. "Kate Cumberland?" he queried. 

A light came in the face of Dan Barry. 

"Kate Cumberland?" he repeated. "How is she, Buck? Lately, I beenthinkin' about her every day. "

A trembling took the body and the voice of Daniels; his errand, afterall, might meet some success. 

"Kate?" he repeated. "Oh, ay, she's well enough. But Joe Cumberlandain't. "

"No?"

"He's dyin' Dan. "

And Dan replied calmly. "He's kind of old, I s'pose. "

"Old?" said Buck, with a sort of horror. "Yes, he's old, right enough. D'you know why he's dying? It's because you went away the way you done, Dan. That's what's killin' him. "

Something of thought came in the face of Barry. 

"Maybe I understand, " he said slowly. "If I was to lose Satan, orBart--" here the great dog whined at the mention of his name, and Barrydropped a slender hand across the scarred forehead of his servant. "If Iwas to lose 'em, I'd sort of mourn for 'em, maybe. "

Buck Daniels set his teeth. 

"I don't suppose it seems possible, " he said, "that a man could missanother man the way you could miss your--dog, eh? But it is! JoeCumberland is dying for you, Dan, as sure as if you'd put a bullet inhis bowels. "

The other hesitated and then frowned and made a gesture of vaguedismissal. 

"Don't you figure on doin' nothing about it?" asked Buck softly. 

"What could I do?"

"My God A'mighty, ain't you got no human feelin's?"

"I dunno what you mean, " said the soft voice. 

"This! Can't you git on your hoss and ride back with me to CumberlandRanch? Stay with the old man till he gets back on his feet. Ain't thateasy to do? Is your time so damned valuable you can't spare a few daysfor that?"

"But I am goin' back, " answered Dan, in a rather hurt voice. "They ain'tno need for cussin' me, Buck. I been thinkin' of Kate, every day, almost. "

"Since when?"

"I dunno. " Dan stirred uneasily. He looked up, and far above Buck, following the direction of Dan's eyes, saw a pattern of wild geese. "Ibeen sort of driftin' North towards the Cumberland Ranch and Kate, " wenton Dan. He sighed: "I been thinkin' of her eyes, which is blue, Buck, and her hair, and the soft sound of her voice. They been hangin' in myears, stayin' behind my eyes, lately, and I been driftin' up that waysteady. "

"Why, man, " cried Buck, "then what's there to keep you here? Jump onyour hoss, and we'll head North in ten minutes. "

"I will!" said Dan, full as eagerly. "We'll start full speed. "

"Come on, then. "

"Wait a minute!" said Dan, his voice growing suddenly cold. "I beenforgettin' something. "

Buck Daniels turned and found his companion strangely changed. There wasa set expression of coldness about his face, and a chill glitter in hiseyes. 

"I got to wait here for something. "

"What's that?"

"They's a man in town that may want to see me. "

"Mac Strann! I've heard about him. Dan, are you goin' to let JoeCumberland die because you want to stay here and fight it out with adirty cutthroat?"

"I don't want to fight, " protested Barry. "No, there ain't nothin' Ilike less than fightin'!"

Buck Daniels cursed softly and continuously to himself. 

"Dan, " he said, "can you sit there and lie like that to me? Ain't I seenyou in action? Don't I remember the way you trailed Jim Silent? Don't Iremember how we all got down and prayed you to keep away from Jim? Don'tI remember how you threw everything to hell so's you could get yourhands on Jim? My God A'mighty, man, didn't I see your face when you hadyour fingers in Silent's throat?"

An expression of unutterable revulsion rippled over the face of DanBarry. 

"Stop!" he commanded softly, and raised his slender hand. "Don't keep ontalkin' about it. It makes me sick--all through. Oh, Buck, they's atingle in the tips of my fingers still from the time I had 'em in histhroat. And it makes me feel unclean--the sort of uncleanness that won'twash out with no kind of soap and water. Buck, I'd most rather diemyself than fight a man!"

A vast amazement overspread the countenance of Buck Daniels as helistened to this outburst; it was as if he had heard a healthy manproclaim that he had no desire for bread and meat. Something rose to hislips, but he swallowed it. 

"Then it looks kind of simple to me, " he said. "You hate fightin'. Thisgent Mac Strann likes it; he lives on it; he don't do nothing but waitfrom day to day hungerin' for a scrap. What's the out? Jest this! Youhop on your hoss and ride out with me. Young Jerry Strann kicks out--MacStrann starts lookin' for you--he hears that you've beat it--he goes offand forgets about you. Ain't that simple?"

The old uneasiness returned to the far-seeing eyes of Dan Barry. 

"I dunno, " he said, "maybe----"

Then he paused again. 

"Have you got anything to say agin it?" urged Buck, arguing desperately. 

"I dunno, " repeated Barry, confused, "except that I keep thinking what aterrible disappointment it'll be to this Mac Strann when his brotherdies and I ain't around. "

Buck Daniels stared, blinked, and then burst into unmelodious laughter. Satan trotted across the corral and raised his head above the fence, whinnying softly. Barry turned his head and smiled up to the horse. 

Then he said: "Seems like if Jerry Strann dies I owe somebody something. Who? Mac Strann, I reckon. I sort of got to stay and give him hischance. "

"I hope to God, " burst out Daniels, smashing his hands together, "thatMac Strann beats you to a pulp! That's what I hope!"

The eyes of Dan Barry widened. 

"Why d'you hope that?" he asked gently. 

It brought Daniels again to speechlessness. 

"Is it possible?" he growled to himself. "Are you a human bein' and yetyou think more of your hoss and your damned wolf-dog than you do of thelife of a man? Dan, I'm askin' you straight, is that a square thing todo?"

The fragile hands went out to him, palm up. 

"Don't you see, Buck? I don't want to be this way. I jest can't helpit!"

"Then the Lord help poor old Joe Cumberland--him that took you in out ofthe desert--him that raised you from the time you was a kid--him thatnursed you like you was his own baby--him that loved you more'n he lovedKate--him that's lyin' back there now with fire in his eyes, waitin', waitin', waitin', for you to come back. Dan, if you was to see him you'dgo down on your knees and ask him to forgive you!"

"I s'pose I would, " murmured Barry thoughtfully. 

"Dan, you're goin' to go with me!"

"I don't somehow think its my time for movin', Buck. "

"Is that all you got to say to me?"

"I guess maybe it is, Buck. "

"If I was to beg you to come for old-time's sake, and all we beenthrough together, you and me, wouldn't it make no difference to you?"

The large, gentle eyes focused far beyond Buck Daniels, somewhere on apoint in the pale, hazy blue of the spring sky. 

"I'm kind of tired of talkin', Buck, " he said at length. 

And Buck Daniels rose and walked slowly away, with his head fallen. Behind him the stallion neighed suddenly and loud, and it was so muchlike a blast of defiant triumph that Buck whirled and shook his clenchedfist at Satan. 

CHAPTER XIV

MUSIC FOR OLD NICK

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

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

Long moments passed before he moved a muscle, but then he heard, faraway, thin, and clear, whistling from behind the hotel. It was norecognisable tune. It was rather a strange improvisation, with singablefragments here and there, and then wild, free runs and trills. It was asif some bird of exquisite singing powers should be taken in a rapture ofsong, so that it whistled snatches here and there of its usual melody, but all between were great, whole-throated rhapsodies. As the sound ofthis 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 thename of the doctor who took care of the wounded Jerry Strann. 

"There ain't no doc, " said the waitress. "It's Fatty Matthews, thedeputy marshal, who takes care of that Strann--bad luck to him! Fatty'sin 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 wouldbe music for the ears of Old Nick. "

And he turned on his heel and strode for the barroom. There he foundFatty 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 toyingwith 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 mostleathery 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 theprofound soul of the mountain-desert. But while Daniels fingered hisglass he kept an eye upon the other man at the bar. 

It was unquestionably the one he sought. The excess flesh of the deputymarshal would have brought his nickname to the mind of an imbecile. However, Fatty was humming softly to himself, and it is not the habit ofmen 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 topass out any minute, and the eyes of that devil Mac Strann followin' youevery step you make. D'you know, if Jerry dies I figure Mac to go at mythroat like a bulldog. "

"You're wrong, Fatty, " replied O'Brien. "That ain't his way about it. Hetakes his time killin' a man. Waits till he can get him in a publicplace and make him start the picture. That's Mac Strann! RememberFitzpatrick? Mac Strann followed Fitz nigh onto two months, but Fitzknew what was up and he never would make a move. He knowed that if hemade a wrong pass it would be his last. So he took everything and let itpass by. But finally it got on his nerves. One time--it was right herein my barroom, Fatty----"

"The hell you say!"

"Yep, that was before your time around these parts. But Fitz had acouple of jolts of red-eye under his vest and felt pretty strong. MacStrann happened in and first thing you know they was at it. Well, Fitzwas a big man. I ain't small, but I had to look up when I talked toFitz. Scotch-Irish, and they got fightin' bred into their bone. MacStrann passed him a look and Fitz come back with a word. Soon as he gotstarted he couldn't stop. Wasn't a pretty thing to watch, either. Youcould 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 toback down. Pretty soon he started cussing Mac Strann. 

"Well, by that time everybody had cleared out of the saloon, becausethey knowed that them sort of words meant bullets comin'. But Mac Strannjest stood there watchin', and grinnin' in his ugly way--damn his soulblack!--and never sayin' a word back. By God, Fatty, he looked sort ofhungry. When he grinned, his upper lip went up kind of slow and youcould see his big teeth. I expected to see him make a move to sink 'emin the throat of Fitz. But he didn't. Nope, he didn't make a move, andall the time Fitz ravin' and gettin' worse and worse. Finally Fitz madethe move. Yep, he pulled his gun and had it damned near clean on MacStrann before that devil would stir. But when he _did_, it was jest aflash of light. Both them guns went off, but Mac's bullet hit Fitz'shand 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 theScotch-Irish? Makes _some_ people quit cold to see their own blood. Iremember a kid at school that was a whale at fightin' till his nose gotto bleedin', or something, and then he'd quit cold. But you take aScotch-Irishman and it works just the other way. Show him his own colourand he goes plumb crazy. 

"That's what happened to Fitz. When he saw the blood on his hand he madea dive at Mac Strann. After that it wasn't the sort of thing that makesa good story. Mac Strann got him around the ribs and I heard the bonescrack. God! And him still squeezin', and Fitz beatin' away at Mac's facewith his bleedin' hand. 

"Will you b'lieve that I stood here and was sort of froze? Yes, Fatty, Icouldn't make a move. And I was sort of sick and hollow inside the sameway I went one time when I was a kid and seen a big bull horn ayearlin'. 

"Then I heard the breath of Fitz comin' hoarse, with a rattle in it--andI heard Mac Strann whining like a dog that's tasted blood and isstarvin' for more. A thing to make your hair go up on end, like they sayin the story-books. 

"Then Fitz--he was plumb mad--tried to bite Mac Strann. And then Mac letgo of him and set his hands on the throat of Fitz. It happened like aflash--I'm here to swear that I could hear the bones crunch. And thenFitz's mouth sagged open and his eyes rolled up to the ceiling, and MacStrann threw him down on the floor. Just like that! Damn him! And thenhe stood over poor dead Fitz and kicked him in those busted ribs andturned over to the bar and says to me: 'Gimme!'

"Like a damned beast! He wanted to drink right there with his dead manbeside him. And what was worse, I had to give him the bottle. There wasa sort of haze in front of my eyes. I wanted to pump that devil full oflead, but I knowed it was plain suicide to try it. 

"So there he stood and ups with a glass that was brimmin' full, anddowns it at a swallow--gurglin'--like a hog! Fatty, how long will it bebefore there's an end to Mac Strann?"

But Fatty Matthews shrugged his thick shoulders and poured himselfanother drink. 

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

"Not one in a million, " coughed Fatty, disposing of another formidablepotion. 

"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 himwhich made big O'Brien flush and look down to his array of glassesbehind the bar. 

"I been wondering, " went on Daniels, "if Mac Strann mightn't come outwith 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 hiswhiskey glass which he had not yet raised towards his lips. 

"Are you sure of that, marshal?" he asked. "If Jerry's held on this longain't there a chance that he'll hold on longer? Can you date him up forto-night as sure as that?"

"I can, " said the deputy marshal. "It ain't hard when you seen as manygo west as I've seen. It ain't harder than it is to tell when the sandwill be out of an hour glass. When they begin going down the last hillit 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 sitsaround with his hands folded. Kind of looks like Haw-Haw _wanted_ Jerryto pass out. "

And Matthews went humming through the swinging door. 

CHAPTER XV

OLD GARY PETERS

For some moments after this Buck Daniels remained at the bar with hishand clenched around his glass and his eyes fixed before him in thepeculiar second-sighted manner which had marked him when he sat so longon the veranda. 

"Funny thing, " began O'Brien, to make conversation, "how many fellers gowest at sunset. Seems like they let go all holts as soon as the darkcomes. Hey?"

"How long before sunset now?" asked Buck Daniels sharply. 

"Maybe a couple of hours. "

"A couple of hours, " repeated Daniels, and ground his knuckles acrosshis forehead. "A couple of hours!"

He raised his glass with a jerky motion and downed the contents; thechaser stood disregarded before him and O'Brien regarded his patron withan eye of admiration. 

"You long for these parts?" he asked. 

"No, I'm strange to this range. Riding up north pretty soon, if I canget someone to tell me the lay of the land. D'you know it?"

"Never been further north than Brownsville. "

"Couldn't name me someone that's travelled about, I s'pose?"

"Old Gary Peters knows every rock within three day's riding. He keepsthe blacksmith shop across the way. "

"So? Thanks; I'll look him up. "

Buck Daniels found the blacksmith seated on a box before his place ofbusiness; it was a slack time for Gary Peters and he consoled himselffor idleness by chewing the stem of an unlighted corn-cob, whose bowlwas upside down. His head was pulled down and forward as if by theweight of his prodigious sandy moustache, and he regarded a vaguehorizon with misty eyes. 

"Seen you comin' out of O'Brien's, " said the blacksmith, as Buck tookpossession of a nearby box. "What's the news?"

"Ain't any news, " responded Buck dejectedly. "Too much talk; no news. "

"That's right, " nodded Gary Peters. "O'Brien is the out-talkingest man Iever see. Ain't nobody on Brownsville can get his tongue around so manywords as O'Brien. "

So saying, he blew through his pipe, picked up a stick of soft pine, andbegan to whittle it to a point. 

"In my part of the country, " went on Buck Daniels, "they don't lay muchby a man that talks a pile. "

Here the blacksmith turned his head slowly, regarded his companion foran instant, and then resumed his whittling. 

"But, " said Daniels, with a sigh, "if I could find a man that knowedthe country north of Brownsville and had a hobble on his tongue I couldgive him a night's work that'd be worth while. "

Gary Peters removed his pipe from his mouth and blew out his droppingmoustaches. He turned one wistful glance upon his idle forge; he turneda sadder eye upon his companion. 

"I could name you a silent man or two in Brownsville, " he said, "butthere ain't only one man that knows the country right. "

"That so? And who might he be?"

"Me. "

"You?" echoed Daniels in surprise. He turned and considered Gary as iffor the first time. "Maybe you know the lay of the land up as far asHawkin's Arroyo?"

"Me? Son, I know every cactus clear to Bald Eagle. "

"H-m-m!" muttered Daniels. "I s'pose maybe you could name some of theoutfits from here on a line with Bald Eagle--say you put 'em ten milesapart?"

"Nothin' easier. I could find 'em blindfold. First due out they'sMcCauley's. Then lay a bit west of north and you hit the Circle KBar--that's about twelve mile from McCauley's. Hit 'er up dead northagain, by east, and you come eight miles to Three Roads. Go on to--"

"Partner, " cut in Daniels, "I could do business with you. "

"Maybe you could. "

"My name's Daniels. "

"I'm Gary Peters. H'ware you?"

They shook hands. 

"Peters, " said Buck Daniels, "you look square, and I need you in squaregame; but there ain't any questions that go with it. Twenty iron men forone day's riding and one day's silence. "

"M'frien', " murmured Peters. "In my day I've gone three months withoutspeakin' to anything in boots; and I wasn't hired for it, neither. "

"You know them people up the line, " said Daniels. "Do they know you?"

"I'll tell a man they do! Know Gary Peters?"

"Partner, this is what I want. I want you to leave Brownsville inside often minutes and start riding for Elkhead. I want you to ride, and I wantyou to ride like hell. Every ten miles, or so, I want you to stop atsome place where you can get a fresh hoss. Get your fresh hoss and leavethe one you've got off, and tell them to have the hoss you leave readyfor me any time to-night. It'll take you clear till to-morrow night toreach Elkhead, even with relayin' your hosses?"

"Round about that, if I ride like hell. What do I take with me?"

"Nothing. Nothing but the coin I give you to hire someone at every stopto have that hoss you've left ready for me. Better still, if you canhave 'em, get a fresh hoss. Would they trust you with hosses that way, Gary?"

"Gimme the coin and where they won't trust me I'll pay cash. "

"I can do it. It'll about bust me, but I can do it. "

"You going to try for a record between Brownsville and Elkhead, eh? Gota bet up, eh?"

"The biggest bet you ever heard of, " said Daniels grimly. "You can tellthe boys along the road that I'm tryin' for time. Have you got a fasthoss to start with?"

"Got a red mare that ain't much for runnin' cattle, but she's greasedlightnin' for a short bust. "

"Then get her out. Saddle her up, and be on your way. Here's mystake--I'll keep back one twenty for accidents. First gimme a list ofthe places you'll stop for the relays. "

He produced an old envelope and a stub of soft pencil with which hejotted down Gary Peters' directions. 

"And every second, " said Buck Daniels in parting, "that you can cut offyour own time will be a second cut off'n mine. Because I'm liable to beon your heels when you ride into Elkhead. "

Gary Peters lifted his eyebrows and then restored his pipe. He spokethrough his teeth. 

"You ain't got a piece of money to bet on that, partner?" he queriedsoftly. 

"Ten extra if you get to Elkhead before me. "

"They's limits to hoss-flesh, " remarked Peters. "What time you ridin'against?"

"Against a cross between a bullet and a nor'easter, Gary. I'm goingback to drink to your luck. "

A promise which Buck Daniels fulfilled, for he had need of even borrowedstrength. He drank steadily until a rattle of hoofs down the streetentered the saloon, and then someone came in to say that Gary Peters hadstarted out of town to "beat all hell, on his red mare. "

After that, Buck started out to find Dan Barry. His quarry was not inthe barn nor in the corral behind the barn. There stood Satan and BlackBart, but their owner was not in sight. But a thought came to Buck whilehe looked, rather mournfully, at the stallion's promise of limitlessspeed. "If I can hold him up jest half a minute, " murmured Buck tohimself, "jest half a minute till I get a start, I've got a rabbit'schance of livin' out the night!"

From the door of the first shed he took a heavy chain with the key inthe padlock. This chain he looped about the post and the main timber ofthe gate, snapped the padlock, and threw the key into the distance. Thenhe stepped back and surveyed his work with satisfaction. It would be apretty job to file through that chain, or to knock down those ponderousrails of the fence and make a gap. A smile of satisfaction came on theface of Buck Daniels, then, hitching at his belt, and pulling hissombrero lower over his eyes, he started once more to find Dan Barry. 

He was more in haste now, for the sun was dipping behind the mountainsof the west and the long shadows moved along the ground with aperceptible speed. When he reached the street he found a steady drift ofpeople towards O'Brien's barroom. They came by ones and twos and idledin front of the swinging doors or slyly peeked through them and thenwhispered one to the other. Buck accosted one of those by the door andasked what was wrong. 

"He's in there, " said the other, with a broad and excited grin. "He's inthere--waitin'!"

And when Buck threw the doors wide he saw, at the farther end of thedeserted barroom, Dan Barry, seated at a table braiding a smallhorsehair chain. His hat was pushed far back on his head; he had hisback to the door. Certainly he must be quite unaware that allBrownsville was waiting, breathless, for his destruction. Behind the barstood O'Brien, pale under his bristles, and his eyes never leaving theslender figure at the end of his room; but seeing Buck he called withsudden loudness: "Come in, stranger. Come in and have one on the house. There ain't nothing but silence around this place and it's getting on mynerves. "

Buck Daniels obeyed the invitation at once, and behind him, steppingsoftly, some of them entering with their hats in their hands and ontiptoe, came a score of the inhabitants of Brownsville. They lined thebar up and down its length; not a word was spoken; but every head turnedas at a given signal towards the quiet man at the end of the room. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE COMING OF NIGHT

It was not yet full dusk, for the shadows were still swinging out fromthe mountains and a ghost of colour lingered in the west, but midnightlay in the open eyes of Jerry Strann. There had been no struggle, nooutcry, no lifting of head or hand. One instant his eyes were closed, and then, indeed, he looked like death; the next instant the eyes open, he smiled, the wind stirred in his bright hair. He had never seemed sohappily alive as in the moment of his death. Fatty Matthews held themirror close to the faintly parted lips, examined it, and then drewslowly back towards the door, his eyes steady upon Mac Strann. 

"Mac, " he said, "it's come. I got just this to say: whatever you do, forGod's sake stay inside the law!"

And he slipped through the door and was gone. 

But Mac Strann did not raise his head or cast a glance after themarshal. He sat turning the limp hand of Jerry back and forth in hisown, and his eyes wandered vaguely through the window and down to theroofs of the village. 

Night thickened perceptibly every moment, yet still while the easternslope of every roof was jet black, the western slopes were bright, andhere and there at the distance the light turned and waned on upperwindows. Sleep was coming over the world, and eternal sleep had come forJerry Strann. 

It did not seem possible. 

Some night at sea, when clouds hurtled before the wind across the skyand when the waves leaped up mast-high; when some good ship staggeredwith the storm, when hundreds were shrieking and yelling in fear ordefiance of death; there would have been a death-scene for Jerry Strann. 

Or in the battle, when hundreds rush to the attack with one man in frontlike the edge before the knife--there would have been a death-scene forJerry Strann. Or while he rode singing, a bolt of lightning that slewand obliterated at once--such would have been a death for Jerry Strann. 

It was not possible that he could die like this, with a smile. There wassomething incompleted. The fury of the death-struggle which had beenomitted must take place, and the full rage of wrath and destruction mustbe vented. Can a bomb explode and make no sound and do no injury?

Yet Jerry Strann was dead and all the world lived on. Someone canteredhis horse down the street and called gayly to an acquaintance, andafterwards the dust rose, invisible, and blew through the open windowand stung the nostrils of Mac Strann. A child cried, faintly, in thedistance, and then was hushed by the voice of the mother, making asound like a cackling hen. This was all!

There should have been wailing and weeping and cursing and praying, forhandsome Jerry Strann was dead. Or there might have been utter anddreadful silence and waiting for the stroke of vengeance, for thebrightest eye was misted and the strongest hand was unnerved and thevoice that had made them tremble was gone. 

But there was neither silence nor weeping. Someone in a nearby kitchenrattled her pans and then cursed a dog away from her back-door. Not thatany of the sounds were loud. The sounds of living are rarely loud, butthey run in an endless river--a monotone broken by ugly ripples of noiseto testify that men still sleep or waken, hunger or feed. Another ripplehad gone down to the sea of darkness, yet all the ripples behind itchased on their way heedlessly and babbled neither louder nor softer. 

There should have been some giant voice to peal over the sleepingvillage and warn them of the coming vengeance--for Jerry Strann wasdead!

The tall, gaunt figure of Haw-Haw Langley came on tiptoe from behind, beheld the dead face, and grinned; a nervous convulsion sent a longripple through his body, and his Adam's-apple rose and fell. Next hestole sideways, inch by inch, so gradual was his cautious progress, until he could catch a glimpse of Mac Strann's face. It was like theopen face of a child; there was in it no expression except wonder. 

At length a hoarse voice issued from between the grinning lips ofHaw-Haw. 

"Ain't you goin' to close the eyes, Mac?"

At this the great head of Mac Strann rolled back and he raised hisglance to Haw-Haw, who banished the grin from his mouth by a viciouseffort. 

"Ain't he got to see his way?" asked Mac Strann, and lowered his glanceonce more to the dead man. As for Haw-Haw Langley, he made a long, gliding step back towards the door, and his beady eyes opened in terror;yet a deadly fascination drew him back again beside the bed. 

Mac Strann said: "Kind of looks like Jerry was ridin' the home trail, Haw-Haw. See the way he's smilin'?"

The vulture stroked his lean cheeks and seemed once more to swallow hissilent mirth. 

"And his hands, " said Mac Strann, "is just like life, except that they'sgettin' sort of chilly. He don't look changed, none, does he, Haw-Haw?Except that he's seein' something off there--away off there. Looks likehe was all wrapped up in it, eh?" He leaned closer, his voice fell to amurmur that was almost soft. "Jerry, what you seein'?"

Haw-Haw Langley gasped in inaudible terror and retreated again towardsthe door. 

Mac Strann laid his giant hand on the shoulder of Jerry. He asked in araised voice: "Don't you hear me, lad?" Sudden terror caught hold ofhim. He plunged to his knees beside the bed, and the floor quaked andgroaned under the shock. "Jerry, what's the matter? Are you mad at me?Ain't you going to speak to me? Are you forgettin' me, Jerry?"

He caught the dead face between his hands and turned it strongly towardshis own. Then for a moment his eyes plumbed the shadows into which theylooked. He stumbled back to his feet and said apologetically to Haw-Hawat the door: "I kind of forgot he wasn't livin', for a minute. " Hestared fixedly at the gaunt cowpuncher. "Speakin' man to man, Haw-Haw, d'you think Jerry will forget me?"

The terror was still white upon the face of Haw-Haw, but somethingstronger than fear kept him in the room and even drew him a slow steptowards Mac Strann; and his eyes moved from the face of the dead man tothe face of the living and seemed to draw sustenance from both. Hemoistened his lips and was able to speak. 

"Forget you, Mac? Not if you get the man that fixed him. "

"Would you want me to get him, Jerry?" asked Mac Strann. And he waitedfor an answer. 

"I dunno, " he muttered, after a moment. "Jerry was always for fightin', but he wasn't never for killin'. He never liked the way I done things. And when he was lyin' here, Haw-Haw, he never said nothin' about megettin' Barry. Did he?"

Astonishment froze the lips of Haw-Haw. He managed to stammer: "Ain'tyou going to get Barry? Ain't you goin' to bust him up, Mac?"

"I dunno, " repeated the big man heavily. "Seems like I've got no heartfor killing. Seems like they's enough death in the world. " He pressedhis hand against his forehead and closed his eyes. "Seems like they'ssomething dead in me. They's an ache that goes ringin' in my head. They's a sort of hollow feelin' inside me. And I keep thinkin' abouttimes when I was a kid and got hurt and cried. " He drew a deep breath. "Oh, my God, Haw-Haw, I'd give most anything if I could bust out cryin'now!"

While Mac Strann stood with his eyes closed, speaking his words slowly, syllable by syllable, like the tolling of a bell, Haw-Haw Langley stoodwith parted lips--like the spirit of famine drinking deep; joyunutterable was glittering in his eyes. 

"If Jerry'd wanted me to get this Barry, he'd of said so, " repeated MacStrann. "But he didn't. " He turned towards the dead face. "Look at Jerrynow. He ain't thinkin' about killin's. Nope, he's thinkin' about somequiet place for sleep. I know the place. They's a spring that come outin a holler between two mountains; and the wind blows up the valley allthe year; and they's a tree that stands over the spring. That's whereI'll put him. He loved the sound of runnin' water; and the wind'll be onhis face; and the tree'll sort of mark the place. Jerry, lad, would yelike that?"

Now, while Mac Strann talked, inspiration came to Haw-Haw Langley, andhe stretched out his gaunt arms to it and gathered it in to his heart. 

"Mac, " he said, "don't you see no reason why Jerry wouldn't ask you togo after Barry?"

"Eh?" queried Mac Strann, turning. 

But as he turned, Haw-Haw Langley glided towards him, and behind him, asif he found it easier to talk when the face of Mac was turned away. Andwhile he talked his hands reached out towards Mac Strann like one who isbegging for alms. 

"Mac, don't you remember that Barry beat Jerry to the draw?"

"What's that to do with it?"

"But he beat him bad to the draw. I seen it. Barry _waited_ for Jerry. Understand?"

"What of that?"

"Mac, you're blind! Jerry knowed you'd be throwing yourself away if youwent up agin Barry. "

At this Mac Strann whirled with a suddenness surprising for one of hisbulk. Haw-Haw Langley flattened his gaunt frame against the wall. 

"Mac!" he pleaded, "_I_ didn't say you'd be throwin' yourself away. Itwas Jerry's idea. "

"Did Jerry tell you that?" he asked. 

"So help me God!"

"Did Jerry _want_ me to get Barry?"

"Why wouldn't he?" persisted the vulture, twisting his bony handstogether in an agony of alarm and suspense. "Ain't it nacheral, Mac?"

Mac Strann wavered where he stood. 

"Somehow, " he argued to himself, "it don't seem like killin' is right, here. "

The long hand of Langley touched his shoulder. 

He whispered rapidly: "You remember last night when you was out of theroom for a minute? Jerry turned his head to me--jest the way he's lyin'now--and I says: 'Jerry, is there anything I can do for you?'"

Mac Strann reached up and his big fingers closed over those of Haw-Haw. 

"Haw-Haw, " he muttered, "you was his frien'. I know that. "

Haw-Haw gathered assurance. 

He said: "Jerry answers to me: 'Haw-Haw, old pal, there ain't nothin'you can do for me. I'm goin' West. But after I'm gone, keep Mac awayfrom Barry. '

"I says: 'Why, Jerry?"

"'Because Barry'll kill him, sure, ' says Jerry. 

"'I'll do what I can to keep him away from Barry, ' says I, 'but don'tyou want nothin' done to the man what killed you?'

"'Oh, Haw-Haw, ' says Jerry, 'I ain't goin' to rest easy, I ain't goin'to sleep in heaven--until I know Barry's been sent to hell. But forGod's sake don't let Mac know what I want, or he'd be sure to go afterBarry and get what I got. '"

Mac Strann crushed the hand of Haw-Haw in a terrible grip. 

"Partner, " he said, "d'you swear this is straight?"

"So help me God!" repeated the perjurer. 

"Then, " said Mac Strann, "I got to leave the buryin' to other men whatI'll hire. Me--I've got business on hand. Where did Barry run to?"

"He ain't run, " cried Haw-Haw, choking with a strange emotion. "Thefool--the damned fool!--is waiting right down here in O'Brien's bar foryou to come. He's _darin'_ you to come!"

Mac Strann made no answer. He cast a single glance at the peaceful faceof Jerry, and then started for the door. Haw-Haw waited until the doorclosed; then he wound his arms about his body, writhed in an ecstasy ofsilent laughter, and followed with long, shambling strides. 

CHAPTER XVII

BUCK MAKES HIS GET-AWAY

Straight from the room of the dead man, Fatty Matthews had hurried downto the bar, and there he stepped into the silence and found the batteryof eyes all turned upon that calm figure at the end of the room. Uponthis man he trotted, breathing hard, and his fat sides jostled up anddown as he ran. According to Brownsville, there were only two thingsthat could make Fatty run: a gun or the sight of a drink. But all maximserr. When he reached Barry he struck him on the shoulder with a heavyhand. That is, he struck at the shoulder, but as if the shadow of thefalling hand carried a warning before it, at the same time that itdropped Barry swerved around in his chair. Not a hurried movement, butin some mysterious manner his shoulder was not in the way of the plumpfist. It struck, instead, upon the back of the chair, and the marshalcursed bitterly. 

"Stranger, " he said hotly, "I got one thing to say: Jerry Strann hasjust died upstairs. In ten seconds Mac Strann will be down here lookin'for _you_!"

He stepped back, humming desperately to cover his wheezing, but Barrycontinued to braid the horsehair with deft fingers. 

"I got a double knot that's kind of new, " he said. "Want to watch metie it?"

The deputy sheriff turned on the crowd. 

"Boys, " he exclaimed, waving his arms, "he's crazy. You heard what hesaid. You know I've give him fair warning. If we got to dig his grave inBrownsville, is it my fault? It ain't!" He stepped to the bar andpounded upon it. "O'Brien, for God's sake, a drink!"

It was a welcome suggestion to the entire nervous crowd, but while theglasses spun across the bar Buck Daniels walked slowly down the lengthof the barroom towards Barry. His face was a study which few men couldhave solved; unless there had been someone present who had seen a manwalk to his execution. Beside Dan Barry he stopped and watched the agilehands at work. There was a change in the position of Barry now, for hehad taken the chair facing the door and the entire crowd; Buck Danielsstood opposite. The horsehair plied back and forth. And Daniels notedthe hands, lean, tapering like the fingers of a girl of sixteen. Theywere perfectly steady; they were the hands of one who had struggled, inlife, with no greater foe than ennui. 

"Dan, " said Buck, and there was a quiver of excitement in his voice, like the tremor of a piano string long after it has been struck. "Dan, Ibeen thinking about something and now I'm ready to tell you what it is. "

Barry looked up in slow surprise. 

Now the face of Buck Daniels held what men have called a "deadlypallor, " that pallor which comes over one who is cornered and about tofight for his life. He leaned closer, resting one hand upon the edge ofthe table, so that his face was close to Dan Barry. 

"Barry, " he said, "I'm askin' you for the last time: Will you get yourhoss and ride back to Kate Cumberland with me?"

Dan Barry smiled his gentle, apologetic smile. 

"I don't no ways see how I can, Buck. "

"Then, " said Buck through his teeth, "of all the lyin' hounds in theworld you're the lyin'est and meanest and lowest. Which they ain't wordsto tell you what I think of you. Take this instead!"

And the hand which rested on the table darted up and smote Dan Barry onthe cheek, a tingling blow. With the same motion which started his handfor the blow, Buck Daniels turned on his heel and stepped a pace or twotowards the centre of the room. 

There was not a man in the room who had not heard the last words of BuckDaniels, and not a man who had not seen the blow. Everyone of them hadseen, or heard accurately described, how the slender stranger beat JerryStrann to the draw and shot him down in that same place. Such a moancame from them as when many men catch their breath with pain, and with asimultaneous movement those who were in line with Buck Daniels and Barryleaped back against the bar on one side and against the wall on theother. Their eyes, fascinated, held on the face of Barry, and they sawthe pale outline which the fingers of Daniels had left on the cheek ofthe other. But if horror was the first thing they felt, amazement wasthe next. For Dan Barry sat bolt erect in his chair, staring in anastonishment too great for words. His right hand hung poised andmoveless just above the butt of his gun; his whole posture was that ofone in the midst of an action, suspended there, frozen to stone. Theywaited for that poised hand to drop, for the slender fingers to clutchthe butt of the gun, for the convulsive jerk that would bring out thegleaming barrel, the explosion, the spurt of smoke, and Buck Danielslurching forward to his face on the floor. 

But that hand did not move; and Buck Daniels? Standing there with hisback to the suspended death behind him, he drew out Durham and brownpapers, without haste, rolled a cigarette, and reached to a hip pocket. 

At that move Dan Barry started. His hand darted down and fastened on hisgun, and he leaned forward in his chair with the yellow glimmering lightflaring up in his eyes. But the hand of Buck Daniels came out from hiship bearing a match. He raised his leg, scratched the match, there was ablue spurt of flame, and Buck calmly lighted his cigarette and startedtowards the door, sauntering. 

The instant the swinging doors closed Barry started from his chair witha strange cry--none of them had ever heard the like from human lips--forthere was grief in it, and above all there was a deadly eagerness. So ahungry man might cry out at the sight of food. Down the length of thebarroom he darted and was drawing his gun as he whipped through thedoors. A common rush followed him, and those who reached the open firstsaw Buck Daniels leaning far forward in his saddle and spurringdesperately into the gloom of the night. Instantly he was only atwinkling figure in the shadows, and the beat of the hoofs rattled backat them. Dan Barry stood with his gun poised high for a second or more. Then he turned, dropped the gun into the holster, and with the samestrange, unearthly cry of eagerness, he raced off in the direction ofthe barns. 

There were some who followed him even then, and this is what theyreported to incredulous ears when they returned. Barry ran straight forthe left hand corral and wrenched at the gate, which appeared to besecured by a lock and chain. Seeing that it would not give way he ranaround to the barn, and came out again carrying a saddle and bridle. These he tossed over the high fence into the corral. Then he picked up aloose scantling and with it pried and wrenched off the top bar of thefence in one section and vaulted into the enclosure. 

The black stallion had whinnied once or twice during this time and thegreat black, shaggy dog had come snarling and whining about the feet ofhis master. Now the stranger tossed on the saddle and cinched it withamazing speed, sprang onto his mount, and urged it across to the otherside of the corral. Up to that moment no one in the little crowd ofwatchers had suspected the intention of the rider. For the fence, evenafter the removal of the top bar, was nearly six feet in height. Butwhen Barry took his horse to the far side of the corral and then swunghim about facing the derailed section, it was plain that he meant toattempt to jump at that place. Even then, as O'Brien explained later, and many a time, the thing was so impossible that he could not believehis eyes. There was a dreamlike element to the whole event. And like aphantom in a vision he saw the black horse start into a sharp gallop;saw the great dog sail across the fence first; saw the horse and ridershoot into the air against the stars; heard the click of hoofs againstthe top rail; heard the thud of hoofs on the near side of the fence, andthen the horseman flashed about the corner of the barn and in an instanthis hoofs were beating a far distant tattoo. 

As for the watchers, they returned in a dead silence to the barroom andthey had hardly entered when Mac Strann stalked through the doors behindthem; he went straight to O'Brien. 

"Somewhere about, " he said in his thick, deep voice, "they's a man namedDan Barry. Where is he?"

And O'Brien answered: "Mac, he was sittin' down there at that tableuntil two minutes ago, but where he is now I ain't any idea. "

The tall, skeleton form of Haw-Haw Langley materialised behind MacStrann, and his face was contorted with anger. 

"If he was here two minutes ago, " he said, "he ain't more than twominutes away. "

"Which way?" asked Mac Strann. 

"North, " answered a score of voices. 

O'Brien stepped up to Mac Strann. He said: "Mac, we know what you got inyour mind. We know what you've lost, and there ain't any of us thatain't sorry for Jerry--and for you. But, Mac, I can give you the bestadvice you ever heard in your life: Keep off'n the trail of Barry!"

Haw-Haw Langley added at the ear of Mac Strann: "That was Jerry's advicewhen he lay dyin'. An' it's my advice, too. Mac, Barry ain't a safe manto foller!"

"Haw-Haw, " answered Mac Strann, "Will you gimme a hand saddlin' my hoss?I got an appointment, an' I'm two minutes late already. "

CHAPTER XVIII

DOCTOR BYRNE ANALYSES

In the room which had been assigned to his use Doctor Randall Byrne satdown to an unfinished letter and began to write. 

"Dinner has interrupted me, my dear Loughburne. I have dined oppositeMiss Cumberland--only the two of us at a great table--with a widesilence around us--and the Chinese cook padding to and fro from thekitchen. Have I told you of that room? No, I believe that I have made nomore than casual mention of my environment here, for reasons which arepatent. But to-night I wished that you might look in upon the scene. Along the walls hang a rope with which Mr. Cumberland won a roping andtieing contest in his youth--a feat upon which he prides himself highly;at another place hang the six-shooters of a notorious desperado, takenfrom his dead body; there is the sombrero of a Mexican guerilla chiefbeside the picture of a prize bull, and an oil painting of Mr. Cumberland at middle age adjoins an immense calendar on which isportrayed the head of a girl in bright colours--a creature with amazingquantities of straw-coloured hair. The table itself is of such size thatit is said all the guests at a round-up--a festival of note in thesebarbaric regions--can be easily seated around it. On one side of thistable I sat--and on the other side sat the girl, as far away as if anentire room had separated us. 

"Before going down to the meal I had laid aside my glasses, for I haveobserved that spectacles, though often beneficial to the sight, are notalways equally commendable in the opinion of women; and it shouldassuredly be one's endeavour to become agreeable to those about us. 

"Be it noted at this point, my dear Loughburne, that I have observedpeculiar properties in the eyes of Miss Cumberland. Those of all otherhumans and animals that have fallen under my observance were remarkableonly for their use in seeing, whereas the eyes of Miss Cumberland seempeculiarly designed to be _seen_. This quality I attribute to thefollowing properties of the said eyes. First, they are in size wellbeyond the ordinary. Secondly, they are of a colour restful to behold. It is, indeed, the colour of the deep, blue evening sky into which onemay stare for an incalculable distance. 

"As I have said, then, I noted a glow in these eyes, though they were soimmediately lowered that I could not be sure. I felt, however, anextraordinary warmth beneath my collar, the suffusion of blood passingswiftly towards my forehead. I inquired if she had smiled and for whatreason; whereat she immediately assured me that she had not, and smiledwhile making the assurance. 

"I was now possessed of an unusual agitation, augmented by the mannerin which Miss Cumberland looked at me out of twinkling but not unkindlyeyes. What could have caused this perturbation I leave to yourscientific keenness in analysis. 

"I discovered an amazing desire to sing, which indecorous impulse I, ofcourse, immediately inhibited and transferred the energy intoconversation. 

"'The weather, ' said I. 'has been uncommonly delightful to-day. '

"I observed that Miss Cumberland greeted this sentence with anothersmile. 

"Presently she remarked: 'It has seemed a bit windy to me. '

"I recalled that it is polite to agree with ladies and instantlysubjoined with the greatest presence of mind: 'Quite right! A mostabominably stormy day!'

"At this I was astonished to be greeted by another burst of laughter, even more pronounced than the others. 

"'Doctor Byrne, ' she said, 'you are absolutely unique. '

"'It is a point, ' I said earnestly, 'which I shall immediately set aboutto change. '

"At this she raised both hands in a gesture of protest, so that I couldobserve her eyes shining behind the slender, brown fingers--observe, Loughburne, that white skin is falsely considered a thing of beauty inwomen--and she remarked, still laughing: 'Indeed, you must not change!'

"I replied with an adroit change of front: 'Certainly not. '

"For some mysterious reason the girl was again convulsed and broke offher laughter to cry in a voice of music which still tingles through me:'Doctor Byrne, you are delightful!'

"I should gladly have heard her say more upon this point, but it beingone which I could not gracefully dispute with her, and being unwillingthat she should lapse into one of her usual silences, I ventured tochange the subject from myself to her. 

"'Miss Cumberland, ' I said, 'I remark with much pleasure that theanxiety which has recently depressed you seems now in some measurelessened. I presume Mr. Daniels will be successful in his journey, though what the return of Mr. Daniels accompanied by Mr. Barry canaccomplish, is, I confess, beyond my computation. Yet you are happier inthe prospect of Mr. Barry's return?'

"I asked this question with a falling heart, though I remain ignorant ofthe cause to which I can attribute my sudden depression. Still moremysterious was the delight which I felt when the girl shook her headslowly and answered: 'Even if he comes, it will mean nothing. '

"I said: 'Then let us intercept him and send him back!'

"She cried out, as if I had hurt her: 'No, no, no!' and twisted herfingers together in pain. She added at once: 'What of poor Dad?'

"'Your father, ' I confessed, 'had for the moment slipped my mind. '

"It seemed to me, however, that it was not wholly on her father'saccount that she was grieved. She wished Mr. Barry to return, and yetshe dreaded his coming. It was most mysterious. However, I had startedMiss Cumberland thinking. She stopped eating and began to stare beforeher. Presently she said: 'It is strange that we don't hear from Buck. What can have held him so long?'

"I regretted extremely that I had introduced the topic and cast about inmy mind for another, but could not find one. I then expressed regretthat I had revived her worries, but received in reply a smile in whichthere was no life: the very colour had died out from her cheeks. And shesat during the rest of the meal without speaking a word. 

"Afterwards I went in with her to see Mr. Cumberland. His condition wasnot materially changed. The marvel of it grows upon me more and more. Itis a freak which defies medical science. There lies a man at the pointof dissolution. His body has died of old age, and yet the life principleremains. He does not eat--at least, the nourishment he takes is wholelynegligible. But he still has energy. To be sure, he rarely moves aboutand his body remains practically inert. But we must never forget thatthe mind is a muscle and calls for continual rebuilding. And the mindof Mr. Cumberland is never inactive. It works ceaselessly. It will notpermit him to sleep. For three days, now, as far as I can tell, he hasnot closed his eyes. It might be assumed that he is in a state oftrance, but by a series of careful experiments, I have ascertained thathe is constantly thinking in the most vigourous fashion. 

"What does it mean? There is in the man a flame-like quality; somethingis burning in him every instant. But on what does the flame feed? I knowthat material cannot be created and that energy means dissolution ofmatter: but why does not the life of Joseph Cumberland dissolve?

"The subject possesses me. I dare not ponder it too steadily or my brainbegins to whirl. I make no progress towards any reasonable solution. Ionly feel that I am living in the presence of an astounding mystery. 

"Strange thoughts possess me. What is the fire that burns but does notconsume Joe Cumberland? What is the thing in the wandering Dan Barrywhich Kate Cumberland fears and yet waits for? Why was it that Danielstrembled with dread when he started out to find a man who, by his ownprofession, he holds to be his best friend?

"You see how the mystery assumes shape? It is before me. It is in myhand. And yet I cannot grasp its elements. 

"The story of a man, a horse, and a dog. What is the story?

"To-day I wandered about the great corrals and came to one which wasbounded by a fence of extraordinary height. It was a small corral, butall the posts were of great size, and the rails were as large asordinary posts. I inquired what strange beasts could be kept in such apen, and the man-of-all-work of whom I asked replied: 'That's Satan'scorral. '

"I guessed at some odd story. 'The devil?' I cried, 'Do they fence thedevil in a corral?'

"'Oh, ay, ' said the fellow, 'he's a devil, right enough. If we'd let himrun with the other hosses he'd have cut 'em to ribbons. That's what kindof a devil he is!'

"A story of a man, a horse, and a dog. I think I have seen the greatchain which bound the dog. Was that the place where they kept the horse?

"And, if so, what bonds are used for the man? And what sort of man canhe be? One of gigantic size, no doubt, to mate his horse and his dog. Afierce and intractable nature, for otherwise Kate Cumberland could notdread him. And yet a man of singular values, for all this place seems towait for his return. I catch the fire of expectancy. It eats into myflesh. Dreams haunt me night and day. What will be the end?

"Now I am going down to see Mr. Cumberland again. I know what I shallsee--the flickering of the fire behind his eyes. The lightning glances, the gentle, rare voice, the wasted face; and by him will be KateCumberland; and they both will seem to be listening, listening--forwhat?

"No more to-night. But, Loughburne, you should be here; I feel that thelike of this has never been upon the earth. 

"Byrne. "

CHAPTER XIX

SUSPENSE

He found them as he had expected, the girl beside the couch, and the oldman prone upon it, wrapped to the chin in a gaudy Navajo blanket. Butto-night his eyes were closed, a most unusual thing, and Byrne couldlook more closely at the aged face. For on occasions when the eyes werewide, it was like looking into the throat of a searchlight to stare atthe features--all was blurred. He discovered now wrinkled andpurple-stained lids under the deep shadow of the brows--and eyes were sosunken that there seemed to be no pupils there. Over the cheek bones theskin was drawn so tightly that it shone, and the cheeks fell away intocadaverous hollows. But the lips, beneath the shag of grey beard, weretightly compressed. No, this was not sleep. It carried, as Byrne gazed, a connotation of swifter, fiercer thinking, than if the gaunt old manhad stalked the floor and poured forth a tirade of words. 

The girl came to meet the doctor. She said: "Will you use a narcotic?"

"Why?" asked Byrne. "He seems more quiet than usual. "

"Look more closely, " she whispered. 

And when he obeyed, he saw that the whole body of Joe Cumberlandquivered like an aspen, continually. So the finger of the duellisttrembles on the trigger of his gun before he receives the signal tofire--a suspense more terrible than the actual face of death. 

"A narcotic?" she pleaded. "Something to give him just one moment offull relaxation?"

"I can't do it, " said Byrne. "If his heart were a shade stronger, Ishould. But as it is, the only thing that sustains him is the force ofhis will-power. Do you want me to unnerve the very strength which keepshim alive?"

She shuddered. 

"Do you mean that if he sleeps it will be--death?"

"I have told you before, " said the doctor, "that there are phases ofthis case which I do not understand. I predict nothing with certainty. But I very much fear that if your father falls into a complete slumberhe will never waken from it. Once let his brain cease functioning and Ifear that the heart will follow suit. "

They stood on the farther side of the room and spoke in the softest ofwhispers, but now the deep, calm voice of the old man broke in: "Doc, they ain't no use of worryin'. They ain't no use of medicine. All I needis quiet. "

"Do you want to be alone?" asked the girl. 

"No, not so long as you don't make no noise. I can 'most hearsomething, but your whisperin' shuts it off. "

They obeyed him, with a glance at each other. And soon they caught thefar off beat of a horse in a rapid gallop. 

"Is it that?" cried Kate, leaning forward and touching her father'shand. "Is that horse what you hear?"

"No, no!" he answered impatiently. "That ain't what I hear. It ain't nohoss that I hear!"

The hoof-beats grew louder--stopped before the house--steps sounded loudand rattling on the veranda--a door squeaked and slammed--and BuckDaniels stood before them. His hat was jammed down so far that his eyeswere almost buried in the shadow of the brim; the bandana at his throatwas twisted so that the knot lay over his right shoulder; he carried aheavy quirt in a hand that trembled so that the long lash seemed alive;a thousand bits of foam had dried upon his vest and stained it; therowels of his spurs were caked and enmeshed with horsehair; dust coveredhis face and sweat furrowed it, and a keen scent of horse-sweat passedfrom him through the room. For a moment he stood at the door, bracinghimself with legs spread wide apart, and stared wildly about--then hereeled drunkenly across the room and fell into a chair, sprawling atfull length. 

No one else moved. Joe Cumberland had turned his head; Kate stood withher hand at her throat; the doctor had placed his hand behind his head, and there it stayed. 

"Gimme smoke--quick!" said Buck Daniels. "Run out of Durham a thousan'years ago!"

Kate ran into the next room and returned instantly with papers and afresh sack of tobacco. On these materials Buck seized frantically, buthis big fingers were shaking in a palsy, and the papers tore, one afteranother, as soon as he started to roll his smoke. "God!" he cried, in aburst of childish desperation, and collapsed again in the chair. 

But Kate Cumberland picked up the papers and tobacco which he had dashedto the floor and rolled a cigarette with deft fingers. She placed itbetween his lips and held the match by which he lighted it. Once, twice, and again, he drew great breaths of smoke into his lungs, and then hecould open his eyes and look at them. They were not easy eyes to meet. 

"You're hungry, Buck, " she said. "I can see it at a glance. I'll havesomething for you in an instant. "

He stopped her with a gesture. 

"I done it!" said Buck Daniels. "He's comin'!"

The doctor flashed his glance upon Kate Cumberland, for when she heardthe words she turned pale and her eyes and her lips framed a mutequestion; but Joe Cumberland drew in a long breath and smiled. 

"I knowed it!" he said softly. 

The wind whistled somewhere in the house and it brought Buck Danielsleaping to his feet and into the centre of the room. 

"He's here!" he yelled. "God help me, where'll I go now! He's here!"

He had drawn his revolver and stood staring desperately about him as ifhe sought for a refuge in the solid wall. Almost instantly he recoveredhimself, however, and dropped the gun back into the holster. 

"No, not yet, " he said, more to himself than the others. "It ain'tpossible, even for Dan. "

Kate Cumberland rallied herself, though her face was still white. Shestepped to Buck and took both his hands. 

"You've been working yourself to death, " she said gently. "Buck, you'rehysterical. What have you to fear from Dan? Isn't he your friend? Hasn'the proved it a thousand times?"

Her words threw him into a fresh frenzy. 

"If he gets me, it's blood on your head, Kate. It was for you I doneit. "

"No, no, Buck. For Dan's sake alone. Isn't that enough?"

"For _his_ sake?" Buck threw back his head and laughed--a crazylaughter. "He could rot in hell for all of me. He could foller his wildgeese around the world. Kate, it was for you!"

"Hush!" she pleaded. "Buck, dear!"

"Do I care who knows it? Not I! I got an hour--half an hour to live; andwhile I live the whole damned world can know I love you, Kate, fromyour spurs to the blue of your eyes. For your sake I brung him, and foryour sake I'll fight him, damn him, in spite----"

The wind wailed again, far off, and Buck Daniels cowered back againstthe wall. He had drawn Kate with him, and he now kept her before him, towards the door. 

He began to whisper, swiftly, with a horrible tremble in his voice:"Stand between me, Kate. Stand between me and him. Talk for me, Kate. Will you talk for me?" He drew himself up and caught a long, shudderingbreath. "What have I been doin'? What have I been ravin' about?"

He looked about as if he saw the others for the first time. 

"Sit here, Buck, " said Kate, with perfect quiet. "Give me your hat. There's nothing to fear. Now tell us. "

"A whole day and a whole night, " he said, "I been riding with the fearof him behind me. Kate, I ain't myself, and if I been sayin' things----"

"No matter. Only tell me how you made him follow you. "

Buck Daniels swept his knuckles across his forehead, as though to rubout a horrible memory. 

"Kate, " he said in a voice which was hardly more than a whisper, "whydid he follow Jim Silent?"

The doctor slipped into a chair opposite Buck Daniels and watched himwith unbelieving eyes. When he had last seen Buck the man had seemed anarmy in himself; but now a shivering, unmanned coward sat before him. Byrne glanced at Kate Cumberland for explanation of the mysteriouschange. She, also, was transformed with horror, and she stared at BuckDaniels as at one already among the dead. 

"Buck, you didn't--_strike_ him?"

Buck Daniels nodded jerkily. 

"I'll try to tell you straight from the beginning. I found Dan inBrownsville. I begged him to come back with me, but he wouldn't stir. This was why: A gunman had come to the town lookin' for trouble, andwhen he run acrost Dan he found plenty of it. No, don't look like that, Kate; it was self-defense, pure and simple--they didn't even arrest Danfor it. But this dyin' man's brother, Mac Strann, come down from thehills and sat beside Jerry Strann waitin' for him to go west before hestarted out to clean up on Dan. Yesterday evenin' Jerry was near deadand everybody in Brownsville was waitin' to see what would happen, because Dan wouldn't budge till Mac Strann had had his chance to getback at him. So I sent a feller ahead to fix a relay of hosses toElkhead, because I made up my mind I was going to make Dan Barry chaseme out of that town. I walked into the saloon where Dan wassittin'--braidin' a little horsehair strand--my God, Kate, think of himsittin' there doin' that with a hundred fellers standin' about waitin'for him to kill or be killed! I went up to him. I picked a fight, andthen I slapped him--in the face. "

The sweat started on Daniels' forehead at the thought. 

"But you're still alive!" cried Kate Cumberland. "Had you handled his gunfirst?"

"No. As soon as I hit him I turned my back to him and took a couple ofsteps away from him. "

"Oh, Buck, Buck!" she cried, her face lighting. "You knew he wouldn'tshoot you in the back!"

"I didn't know nothin'. I couldn't even think--and my body was numb as adead man's all below the hips. There I stood like I was chained to thefloor--you know how it is in a nightmare when something chases you andyou can't run? That was the way with me. "

"Buck! And he was sitting behind you--while you stood there?"

"Ay, sitting there with my death sittin' on his trigger finger. But Iknowed that if I showed the white feather, if I let him see me shake, he'd be out of his chair and on top of me. No gun--he don't need nothin'but his hands--and what was in front of my eyes was a death like--likeJim Silent's!"

He squinted his eyes close and groaned. Once more he roused himself. 

"But I couldn't move a foot without my knees bucklin', so I takes out mymakin's and rolls a cigarette. And while I was doin' it I was prayin'that my strength would come back to me before he come back tohimself--and started!"

"It was surprise that held him, Buck. To think of you striking him--youwho have saved his life and fought for him like a blood-brother. Oh, Buck, of all the men in the world you're the bravest and the noblest!"

"They ain't nothin' in that brand of talk, " growled Buck, reddening. "Anyway, at last I started for the door. It wasn't farther away thanfrom here to the wall. Outside was my hoss, and a chance for livin'. Butthat door was a thousand years away, and a thousand times while I walkedtowards it I felt Dan's gun click and bang behind me and felt the leadgo tearin' through me. And I didn't dare to hurry, because I knew thatmight wake Dan up. So finally I got to the doors and just as they wasswingin' to behind me, I heard a sort of a moan behind me----"

"From Dan!" whispered the white-faced girl. "I know--a sort of a stifledcry when he's angered! Oh, Buck. "

"My first step took me ten yards from that door, " reminisced BuckDaniels, "and my next step landed me in the saddle, and I dug them spursclean into the insides of Long Bess. She started like a watch-springuncoilin', and as she spurts down the streets I leans clean over to hermane and looks back and there I seen Dan standin' in the door with hisgun in his hand and the wind blowin' his hair. But he didn't shoot, because the next second I was swallowed up in the dark and couldn't seehim no more. "

"But it was no use!" cried the girl. "With Black Bart to trail you andwith Satan to carry him, he overtook you--and then----"

"He didn't, " said Buck Daniels. "I'd fixed things so's he couldn't getstarted with Satan for some time. And before he could have Satan on mytrail I'd put a long stretch behind me because Long Bess was racin'every step. The lay of the land was with me. It was pretty level, and onlevel goin' Long Bess is almost as fast as Satan; but on rocky goin'Satan is like a goat--nothin' stops him! And I was ridin' Long Bess liketo bust her heart, straight towards McCauley's. We wasn't more'n a mileaway when I thought--the wind was behind me, you see--that I heard asort of far off whistling down the wind! My God!"

He could not go on for a moment, and Kate Cumberland sat with partedlips, twisting her fingers together and then tearing them apart oncemore. 

"Well, that mile was the worst in my life. I thought maybe the man I'dsent on ahead hadn't been able to leave me a relay at McCauley's, and ifhe hadn't I knew I'd die somewhere in the hills beyond. And they lookedas black as dead men, and all sort of grinnin' down at me. 

"But when I got to McCauley's, there stood a hoss right in front of thehouse. It didn't take me two second to make the saddle-change. And thenI was off agin!"

A sigh of relief came from Byrne and Kate. 

"That hoss was a beauty. Not long-legged like Bess, nor half so fast, but he was jest right for the hills. Climbed like a goat and didn't letup. Up and up we goes. The wind blows the clouds away when we gets tothe top of the climb and I looks down into the valley all white in themoonlight. And across the valley I seen two little shadows slidin', smooth and steady. It was Dan and Satan and Black Bart!"

"Buck!"

"My heart, it stood plumb still! I gives my hoss the spurs and we wentdown the next slope. And I don't remember nothin' except that we got tothe Circle K Bar after a million years, 'most, and when we got there thepiebald flops on the ground--near dead. But I made the change andstarted off agin, and that next hoss was even better than the piebald--asure goer! When he started I could tell by his gait what he was, and Ilooked up at the sky----"

He stopped, embarrassed. 

"And thanked God, Buck?"

"Kate, I ain't ashamed if maybe I did. But since then I ain't seen orheard Dan, but all the time I rode I was expecting to hear his whistlebehind me, close up. "

All the life died from her face. 

"No, Buck, if he'd a followed all the way he would have caught you inspite of your relay. No, I understand what happened. After a while heremembered that Mac Strann was waiting for him back in Brownsville. Andhe left your trail to be taken up later and went back to Brownsville. You didn't see him follow you after you left the Circle X Bar?"

"No. I didn't dare look back. But somehow I knew he was comin'. "

She shook her head. 

"He won't come, Buck. He'll go back to meet Mac Strann--and then----"She ran to the chair of Buck swiftly and caught his hands: "What sort ofa man is Mac Strann?"

But Buck smiled strangely up into her face. 

"Does it make any difference, " he said, "to Dan?"

She went slowly back to her place. 

"No, " she admitted, "no difference. "

"If you came by relays for twenty-four hours, " said the doctor, numbering his points upon accurate fingertips, "it is humanly impossiblethat this man could have followed you very closely. It will probablytake him another day to arrive. "

But here his glance fell upon old Joe Cumberland, and found thecattleman smiling faintly to himself. 

Buck Daniels was considering the last remark seriously. 

"No, " he said, "it _ain't_ possible. Besides, what Kate says may betrue. She ought to know--she says he'll wait for Mac Strann. I didn'tthink of that; I thought I was savin' Dan from another--well, what adamn fool I been!"

He unknotted his bandana and with it mopped his face to a semblance ofcleanliness. 

"It was the ridin' that done it, " he explained, shame-faced. "You put aman on a hoss for a certain time, and after a while he gets so he can'tthink. He's sort of nutty. That was the way with me when I come in. "

"Open the window on the veranda, " said Joe Cumberland. "I want to feelthe wind. "

The doctor obeyed the instruction, and again he noted that same quiet, contented smile on the lips of the old man. For some reason it made himill at ease to see it. 

"He won't get here for eight or ten hours, " went on Buck Daniels, easinghimself into a more comfortable position, and raising his head a littlehigher. "Ten hours more, even if he does come. That'll give me a chanceto rest up; right now I'm kind of shaky. "

"A condition, you will observe, in which Mr. Barry will also be when hearrives, " remarked the doctor. 

"Shaky?" grinned Buck Daniels. "M'frien', you don't know that bird!" Hesat up, clenching his fist. "And if Dan _does_ come, he can't affo'd topress me too far! I'll take so much, and then----"

He struck his fist on the arm of the chair. 

"Buck!" cried Kate Cumberland. "Are you mad? Have you lost your reason?Would you _face_ him?"

Buck Daniels winced, but he then shook his head doggedly. 

"He had his chance down in Brownsville, " he said. "And he didn't takeit. Why? Because my back was turned? Well, he could of got in front ofme if he'd been terrible anxious. I've seen Dan in action; he's seen_me_ in action! Maybe he's seen too much. They've been stranger thingsthan that, in this world!" He hitched his belt so that the butt of hisrevolver came farther forward. But now Kate Cumberland advised: "Buck, you're tired out; you don't know what you're saying. Better go up tobed. "

He flushed a ruddy bronze. 

"D'you think I'm jest talkin' words, Kate, to hear myself talk?"

"Listen!" broke in Joe Cumberland, and raised a bony forefinger forsilence. 

 * * * * *

And the doctor noted a great change in the old man. There was no longera tremor in his body. There was only a calm and smiling expectation--acertainty. A tinge of colour was in his withered face for the first timesince Byrne had come to the ranch, and now the cattleman raised hisfinger with such an air of calm authority that at once every voice inthe room was stilled. 

"D'ye hear?"

They did not. They heard only the faint rushing of the air through thewindow. The flame danced in the chimney of the lamp and changed thefaces in phantastic alteration. One and all, they turned and faced thewindow. Still there was not a sound audible, but the doctor felt as ifthe noise were approaching. He knew it as surely as if he could see somefar-off object moving near and nearer. And he knew, as clearly, that theothers in the room felt the same thing. He turned his glance from thewindow towards Kate Cumberland. Her face was upturned. There was aboutit a transparent pallor; the eyes were large and darkly ringed; the lipsparted into the saddest and the most patient of smiles; and the slenderfingers were interwoven and pressed against the base of her throat. 

For the first time he saw how the fire that was so manifest in the oldman had been consuming her, also. It left no mark of the coming of deathupon her. But it had burned her pure and left her transparent ascrystal. Pity swelled in the throat of Byrne as he realised the anguishof her long waiting. Fear mingled with his pity. He felt that somethingwas coming which would seize on her as the wind seizes on the dead leaf, whirling her off into an infinity of storm and darkness into which hecould not follow a single pace. 

He turned back towards the window. The rush of air played steadily, andthen in pulses, upon his face. Then even the wind ceased; as if it, too, were waiting. Not a sound. But silence has a greater voice than discordor music. It seemed to Byrne that he could tell how fast each heart wasbeating. 

The old man had closed his eyes again. And yet the rigid forefingerremained raised, and the faint smile touched at the corners of hismouth. Buck Daniels sat lunging forward in his chair, his kneessupporting his elbows, and scowled up at the window with a sort ofsullen terror. 

Then Byrne heard it--so small a voice that at first he thought it wasonly a part of the silence. It grew and grew--in a sudden burst it wasclear to every ear--the honking of the wild geese!

And Byrne knew the picture they made. He could see them far up in thesky--a dim triangle of winter grey--moving with the beat of lightningwings each in an arrowy flight north, and north, and north. Creaturesfor sport all the world over; here alone, in all the earth, in the heartof this mountain-desert, they were in some mysterious wise messengers. Once more the far discord showered down upon them, died as they rose, perhaps, to a higher level, and was heard no more. 

CHAPTER XX

THE COMING

Then a padding step, light, lighter than the sound of the softestthought. It was passing near; the faint breeze blew the sound to them, around them, behind them. Each man felt as if some creature werestalking him, unseen. Next--it appeared by magic against the blue blackof the night--the head of a great wolf, quite black, shaggy, withsharply pointed ears. And the eyes stared at them, green eyes withlights that swirled as the flame jumped in the throat of the lamp. For along moment the horror lasted. Then the head, as it had come, disappeared, and the light, light foot fall, faded away. 

Buck Daniels had risen, now. The sound of his whisper made them start. 

"I'm going up--to my room--and lock the door--for God's sake--keep--himaway!"

And so he stole soundlessly away, and then they heard the creaks whichannounced his progress up the stairs. 

Not Buck Daniels alone. In the deadly silence Kate rose to her feet; andthe old man, the invalid--he with the dead body and the living brain, rose from his couch and stood as erect as a soldier on parade. Thedoctor was conscious of repeating to himself, hurriedly, a formulasomething like this: "The thing which is coming is human; it cannot bemore than human; as long as it is human it is nothing to fear; the lawsof truth are irrevocably fixed; the laws of science will not change. "Yet in spite of this formula he was deadly cold, as if a wind wereblowing through his naked soul. It was not fear. It was something beyondfear, and he would not have been otherwhere for any reward. All his mindremained poised, expectant, as the astronomer waits for the new starwhich his calculations have predicted to enter the field of histelescope. 

He caught the sound of another horse coming, far different even to hisunpracticed ear from the beat of hoofs which announced the coming ofBuck Daniels. The rhythm of their fall was slower, as if the stride ofthe animal were much longer. He pictured a mighty creature with a vastmane blown back against the chest of a giant rider. There was a murmurfrom Kate: "Dan, my dear, my dear!"

Then he heard a padding footfall, hardly louder than the light, lightstep of the wolf. The knob of the door turned slowly, without a sound;it opened, and a man stepped in. He was not larger than the doctor; aslender fellow, almost dapper in his dress, with hardly a sign of travelabout him, except that the brim of his sombrero was folded back from hisface as if from continual pressure of wind. These things Randall Byrnenoted vaguely; what he was sharply aware of were the eyes of the man. Hehad the feeling that he had seen them before; he remembered the yellowlight that had swirled in the eyes of the wolf at the window. 

The newcomer flashed a glance about the room, yet for all its speed itseemed to linger an instant on each face, and when it crossed the stareof Byrne the doctor shrank. 

"Where is Buck?" asked the man. "I've come for him!"

As if in answer, the great, shaggy dog slipped through the entrance pasthis master and glided across the room. As he passed, Kate held out ahand to him. She called softly: "Bart!" but she was greeted with asilent baring of fangs; and she caught her hand back against her breast, with the tears springing in her eyes. On the other side of the room theblack dog paused and looked back to his master, while Byrne realisedwith a shudder that the door before which it stood was the door throughwhich Buck Daniels had disappeared. Straight to that door Barry stepped, and Byrne realised, with an eerie emotion, that the footfalls made nosound. 

Before he reached the door, however, the girl started forward and sprangbefore him. With her outstretched arms she barred the way. Her skirtbrushed almost in the face of the dog, and the beast shrank away not infear, but crouching in readiness to leap. The sharp ears twitched back;a murderous snarl rolled up from between the wicked teeth. Yet she didnot cast a single glance at him; she faced the greater danger. 

She was saying: "Whatever Buck did, it wasn't done to hurt you, Dan; itwas done for your own sake. And for Dad's sake. You shan't pass here!"

From his position, the doctor could not see the face of Dan Barry, buthe guessed at it through the expression of Kate. Such terror and horrorwere in her eyes as though she were facing a death's head inches away. Then he saw the slender hand of Barry rise and move towards the girl, slowly, tremblingly, as though one fierce impulse urged him to thrusther to one side and as though another held back his arm. The doctorcould not watch the girl longer; fear and pity were wringing him as helowered his glance to the floor. 

Then he heard her cry: "Have you forgotten me, like Bart? Like Bart, have you forgotten me, Dan?"

His hand fell to his side and he glided back from her; but now Byrnecould see that the eyes of Barry were looking past the girl, as thoughhe stared through the solid wood of the door and found his prey beyondit. The stranger slipped towards the door by which he had entered, withthe great dog slinking at his heels. Kate Cumberland leaned heavilyagainst the wall, her arm thrown across her face, but there was noconsciousness of her in the face of Barry. Yet at the very door hepaused and straightened; Byrne saw that he was staring towards JoeCumberland; and the old man reached a bony hand out. 

"Oh, lad, " he said softly, "I been waitin' for you years an' years, seems like!"

Barry crossed the room as noiselessly, as swiftly, as a flying shadow. 

"Sit down!" he commanded, and Byrne caught a faint ring in the voice, like the shiver of metal striking steel. 

Joe Cumberland obeyed without a word, and then lay back at full lengthupon the couch--a palsy had seized on him, and the hand which rested onthe shoulder of Dan Barry was shaking. By the couch came the tall dog, and crouched, staring up in the master's face; then the younger manturned his face towards Byrne and the girl. Those thin-cut nostrilsexpanded, the lips compressed, and Byrne dared not look into the flareof the eyes. 

"Who done this?" asked Barry, and still the shiver of cold metal rang inhis voice. "Who's done this?"

"Steady, lad, " said Joe Cumberland faintly. "They ain't no call forfightin'. Steady, Dan, boy. An' don't leave me!"

Byrne caught a signal from Kate and followed her obediently from theroom. 

"Let them be alone, " she said. 

"Impossible!" protested the doctor. "Your father is lapsed into a mostdangerous condition. The physical inertia which has held him for so longis now broken and I look for a dangerous mental and nervous collapse toaccompany it. A sedative is now imperative!"

He laid his hand on the knob of the door to return, but the girl blockedhis way. 

"Don't go in, " she commanded feebly. "I can't explain to you. All I cansay is that Dad was the one who found Dan Barry and there's somethingbetween them that none of us understand. But I know that he can helpDad. I know Dad is in no danger while Dan is with him. "

"A pleasant superstition, " nodded the doctor, "but medicine, my dearMiss Cumberland, does not take account of such things. "

"Doctor Byrne, " she said, rallying a failing strength for the argument, "I insist. Don't ask me to explain. "

"In that case, " he answered coldly, "I cannot assume responsibility forwhat may happen. "

She made a gesture of surrender, weakly. 

"Look back in on them now, " she said. "If you don't find father quiet, you may go in to him. "

Doctor Byrne obeyed, opening the door softly. He saw Joe Cumberlandprone, of course, upon the couch. One hand lay as usual across hisbreast, but the other was at his side, clasped in the hands of DanBarry. The old cattleman slept. Yes, there was no doubt that for thefirst time in many days he slumbered soundly. The lean, narrow chestrose and fell with deep, slow breaths; the eyes were closed, and therewas no twitching of muscles to betray ragged nerves or a mind thatdreamed fiercely while the body slept. Far over the sleeping man leanedthe stranger, as if he were peering closely into the closed eyes of JoeCumberland. There was a tenseness of watching and waiting in hisattitude, like the runner on the mark, or like the burden-bearer liftinga great weight, and Byrne gathered, in some mysterious manner, theimpression that Barry sent through his hands and into the body ofCumberland a continual stream of nervous strength--an electric thing. Nonsense, of course. And it was nonsense, also, to think that the hugedog which lay staring up into the face of the master understood all thisaffair much better than the practiced mind of the physician. Yet theillusion held with Randall Byrne in spite of all his scepticism. 

He was certain that he had made not the slightest sound in opening thedoor, but presently the head of the watcher turned slowly, and Byrne waslooking into those same yellow, terrible eyes. At the same instant thesick man moaned faintly. The doctor closed the door as softly as he hadopened it and turned a drawn face upon Kate Cumberland. 

"I don't understand; it isn't possible!" he whispered. 

"No one understands, " said the girl, and smiled mirthlessly. "Don't tryto, Doctor Byrne. Go to bed, and sleep. If you can. Good night. "

"But you, " said Byrne, following her, "are almost as ill as your father. Is there nothing I can do for you?"

"You?" she asked, surprised. "No, nothing. "

"But there's not the slightest colour in your face. And you aretrembling, Miss Cumberland!"

She did not seem to hear him. 

"Will he stay?" she asked of herself. "Will he leave before themorning?"

"I shall see that he stays, " said the doctor. "I will stay here outsidethe door and see that he does not leave, if you wish. "

Once more she smiled in that baffling manner. 

"Could you keep the wind from blowing, Doctor Byrne? If I thought thathe could be kept----" she stopped. "He has forgotten us. He hasforgotten all of us except Dad. And if Dad cannot keep him, nothing willkeep him. It's useless for you to wait here. Good night again, DoctorByrne. "

He watched her up the stairs. By the dim light he saw her hand catchingat the balustrade as if she were drawing herself up, step by step. Whenshe reached the landing and turned half towards him, he saw that herhead was fallen. 

"Not a glance, not a thought for me, " murmured the doctor. "But if thestranger _does_ leave----" Instead of finishing the muttered sentences, he drew a chair back against the wall and sat down with folded hands towait. 

CHAPTER XXI

MAC STRANN DECIDES TO KEEP THE LAW

It was hours later that night when Haw-Haw Langley and Mac Strann sattheir horses on the hill to the south. Before them, on the nearest riseof ground, a clump of tall trees and the sharp triangle of a roof splitthe sky, while down towards the right spread a wide huddle of sheds andbarns. 

"That's where the trail ends, " said Mac Strann, and started his horsedown the slope. Haw-Haw Langley urged his little mount hurriedlyalongside the squat bulk of his companion. He looked like the skeletonreality, and Mac Strann the blunt, deformed shadow. 

"You ain't going into the house lookin' for him, Mac?" he asked, and helowered his voice to a sharp whisper in spite of the distance. "Maybethere's a pile of men in that house. It's got room for a whole army. Youain't going in there by yourself, Mac?"

"Haw-Haw, " explained the big man quietly, "I ain't going after Barry. I'm going to make him come after me. "

Haw-Haw considered this explanation for a dazed moment. It was far toomysterious for his comprehension. 

"What you goin' to do?" he asked again. 

"Would you know that black hoss agin if you seen him?" asked Mac Strann. 

"In a thousand. "

"That hoss has had a long ride; and Barry has put him in one of thembarns, they ain't no doubt. Most like, the dog is with the hoss. "

"It looks a considerable lot like a wolf, " muttered Langley. "I wouldn'tchoose meetin' up with that dog in the dark. Besides, what good is itgoin' to do you to find the dog?"

"If you hurt a man's dog, " explained Mac Strann calmly, "you're hurtingthe man, ain't you? I'm going to hurt this man's dog; afterwards thedog'll bring the man to me. They ain't no doubt of that. I ain't goin'to kill the dog. I'm goin' to jest nick him so's he'll get well and thenhit my trail. "

"What sense is they in that?"

"If Barry comes to me, ain't he the one that's breakin' the law? If Ikill him then, won't it be in self-defense? I ain't no law-breaker, Haw-Haw. It ain't any good bein' a law-breaker. Them lawyers can talk aman right into a grave. They's worse nor poison. I'd rather be caught ina bear trap a hundred miles from my shack than have a lawyer fasten ontomy leg right in the middle of Brownsville. No, Haw-Haw, I ain't going tobreak any law. But I'm going to fix the wolf so's he'll know me; andwhen he gets well he'll hit my trail, and when he hits my trail he'llhave Barry with him. And when Barry sees me, then----" he raised hisarms above him in the dark. "Then!" breathed Mac Strann, "Jerry canstart sleepin' sound for the first time!"

Haw-Haw Langley wrapped his long arms about himself. 

"An' I'll be there to watch. I'll be there to see fair play, don't younever doubt it, Mac. Why didn't I never go with you before? Why, Jerrynever done anything to touch this! But be careful, Mac. Don't make noslip up to-night. If they's trouble--I ain't a fighting man, Mac. Iain't no ways built for it. "

"Shut your mouth, " said Mac Strann bluntly. "I need quiet now. "

For they were now close to the house. Mac Strann brought his horse to ajog trot and cast a semi-circle skirting the house and bringing himbehind the barns. Here he retreated to a little jutting point of landfrom behind which the house was invisible, and there dismounted. 

Haw-Haw Langley followed example reluctantly. He complained: "I ain'tnever heard before of a man leavin' his hoss behind him! It ain't rightand it ain't policy. "

His leader, however, paid no attention to this grumbling. He skirtedback behind the barns, walking with a speed which extended even the longlegs of Haw-Haw Langley. Most of the stock was turned out in thecorrals. Now and then a horse stamped, or a bull snorted from the fencedenclosures, but from the barns they heard not a sound. Now Mac Strannpaused. They had reached the largest of the barns, a long, lowstructure. 

"This here, " said Mac Strann, "is where that hoss must be. They wouldn'trun a hoss like that with others. They'd keep him in a big stall byhimself. We'll try this one, Haw-Haw. "

But Haw-Haw drew back at the door. The interior was black as the hollowof a throat as soon as Mac Strann rolled back the sliding door, andHaw-Haw imagined evil eyes glaring and twinkling at him along the edgesof the darkness. 

"The wolf!" he cautioned, grasping the shoulder of his companion. "Youain't goin' to walk onto that wolf, Mac?"

The latter struck down Haw-Haw's hand. 

"A wolf makes a noise before it jumps, " he whispered, "and that warnin'is all the light I need. "

Now their eyes grew somewhat accustomed to the dark and Haw-Haw couldmake out, vaguely, the posts of the stalls to his right. He could nottell whether or not some animal might be lying down between the posts, but Mac Strann, pausing at every stall, seemed to satisfy himself at aglance. Right down the length of the barn they passed until they reacheda wall at the farther end. 

"He ain't here, " sighed Haw-Haw, with relief. "Mac, if I was you, I'dwait till they was light before I went huntin' that wolf. "

"He ought to be here, " growled Mac Strann, and lighted a match. Theflame spurted in a blinding flash from the head of the match and thensettled down into a steady yellow glow. By that brief glow Mac Strannlooked up and down the wall. The match burned out against the callousedtips of his fingers. 

"That wall, " mused Strann, "ain't made out of the same timber as theside of the barn. That wall is whole years newer. Haw-Haw, that _ain't_the end of the barn. They's a holler space beyond it. " He lightedanother match, and then cursed softly in delight. "Look!" he commanded. 

At the farther side of the wall was the glitter of metal--the latch of adoor opening in the wooden wall. Mac Strann set it ajar and Haw-Hawpeered in over the big man's shoulder. He saw first a vague and formlessglimmer. Then he made out a black horse lying down in the centre of abox stall. The animal plunged at once to its feet, and crowding as faras possible away against the wall, turned its head and stared at themwith flashing eyes. 

"It's him!" whispered Haw-Haw. "It's Barry's black. They ain't anotherhoss like him on the range. An' the wolf--thank God!--ain't with him. "

But Mac Strann closed the door of the stall, frowning thoughtfully, andthought on the face of Strann was a convulsion of pain. He dropped thesecond match to his feet, where it ignited a wisp of straw that sent upa puff of light. 

"Ah-h!" drawled Mac Strann. "The wolf ain't here, but we'll soon havehim here. And the thing that brings him here will get rid of the blackhoss. "

"Are you goin' to steal the hoss?"

"Steal him? He couldn't carry me two mile, a skinny hoss like that. Butif Barry ever gets away agin on that hoss I ain't never goin' to catchhim. That hoss has got to die. "

Haw-Haw Langley caught his breath with a harsh gurgle. For men of themountain-desert sometimes fall very low indeed, but in their lowestmoments it is easier for him to kill a man than a horse. There is thestory, for instance, of the cattleman who saw the bull-fight in Juarez, and when the bull gored the first horse the cowpuncher rose in the crowdand sent a bullet through the picador to square the deal. So Haw-Hawsighed. 

"Mac, " he whispered, "has it got to be done? Ain't there any other way?I've seen that hoss. When the sun hits him it sets him on fire, he'sthat sleek. And his legs is like drawn-iron, they're that fine. And he'sgot a head that's finer than a man's head, Mac. "

"I've seen him close enough, " answered Mac Strann grimly. "An' I'vefollered him for a day and a half, damn near. S'pose Barry finds out I'mon his trail; s'pose he won't foller the wolf when the wolf tries tolead him to me. S'pose he gets on this hoss and cuts away? Can I follerthe wind, Haw-Haw? This hoss has got to die!"

From the manger he threw out several armfuls of hay, wrenched down frombehind the manger several light boards, and tossed them on the hay. Helighted a match and was approaching the small flame to the pile ofinflammables when Haw-Haw Langley cried softly: "Hark, Mac!"

The big man instantly extinguished the match. For a moment they coulddistinguish nothing, but then they heard the sharp, high chorus of thewild geese flying north. Haw-Haw Langley snickered apologetically. 

"That was what I heard a minute ago!" he said. "And it sounded likevoices comin'. "

A snarl of contempt from Mac Strann; then he scratched another match andat once the flame licked up the side of the hay and cast a long arm upthe wooden wall. 

"Out of this quick!" commanded Mac Strann, and they started hastily downthe barn towards the door. The fire behind them, after the puff of flamefrom the hay, had died away to a ghastly and irregular glow with thecrackle of the slowly catching wood. It gave small light to guide them;only enough, indeed, to deceive the eye. The posts of the stalls grewinto vast, shadowy images; the irregularities of the floor became highplaces and pits alternately. But when they were half way to the doorHaw-Haw Langley saw a form too grim to be a shadow, blocking their path. It was merely a blacker shape among the shades, but Haw-Haw was aware ofthe two shining eyes, and stopped short in his tracks. 

"The wolf!" he whispered to Mac Strann. "Mac, what're we goin' to do?"

The other had not time to answer, for the shadow at the door of thebarn now leaped towards them, silently, without growl or yelp or snarl. As if to guide the battle, the kindling wood behind them now ignited andsent up a yellow burst of light. By it Haw-Haw Langley saw the greatbeast clearly, and he leaped back behind the sheltering form of MacStrann. As for Mac, he did not move or flinch from the attack. Hisrevolver was in his hand, levelled, and following the swift course ofBlack Bart. 

CHAPTER XXII

PATIENCE

There is one patience greater than the endurance of the cat at the holeof the mouse or the wolf which waits for the moose to drop, and that isthe patience of the thinking man; the measure of the Hindoo's movelesscontemplation of Nirvana is not in hours but in weeks or even in months. Randall Byrne sat at his sentinel post with his hands folded and hisgrave eyes steadily fixed before him, and for hour after hour he did notmove. Though the wind rose, now and again, and whistled through theupper chambers or mourned down the empty halls, Randall Byrne did notstir so much as an eyelash in observance. Two things held himfascinated. One was the girl who had passed up yonder stairs so wearilywithout a single backward glance at him; the other was the silent battlewhich went on in the adjoining room. Now and then his imaginationwandered away to secondary pictures. He would see Barry meeting BuckDaniels, at last, and striking him down as remorselessly as the houndstrikes the hare; or he would see him riding back towards Elkhead andcatch a bright, sad vision of Kate Cumberland waving a careless adieu tohim, and then hear her singing carelessly as she turned away. Suchpictures as these, however, came up but rarely in the mind of Byrne. Mostly he thought of the stranger leaning over the body of old JoeCumberland, reviving him, storing him with electric energy, paying back, as it were, some ancient debt. And he thought of the girl as she hadturned at the landing place of the stairs, her head fallen; and hethought of her lying in her bed, with her arm under the mass of brighthair, trying to sleep, very tired, but remorsely held awake by that samepower which was bringing Joe Cumberland back from the verge of death. 

It was all impossible. This thing could not be. It was really as bad asthe yarn of the Frankenstein monster. He considered how it would seem inprint, backed by his most solemn asseverations, and then he saw thefaces of the men who associated with him, pale thoughtful faces strivingto conceal their smiles and their contempt. But always he came back, like the desperate hare doubling on his course, upon the picture of KateCumberland there at the turning of the stairs, and that bent, brighthead which confessed defeat. The man had forgotten her. It made Byrneopen his eyes in incredulity even to imagine such a thing. The man hadforgotten her! She was no more to him than some withered hag he mightride past on the road. 

His ear, subconsciously attentive to everything around him, caught afaint sound from the next room. It was a regular noise. It had therhythm of a quick footfall, but in its nature it was more like thesound of a heavily beating pulse. Randall Byrne sat up in his chair. Afaint creaking attested that it was, indeed, a footfall traversing theroom to and fro, steadily. 

The stranger, then, no longer leaned over the couch of the oldcattleman. He was walking up and down the floor with thatcharacteristic, softly padding step. Of what did he think as he walked?It carried Byrne automatically out into the darkest night, with a windin his face, and the rhythm of a long striding horse carrying him on toa destination unknown. 

Here he heard a soft scratching, repeated, at the door. When it cameagain he rose and opened the door--at once the tall, shaggy dog slippedthrough the opening and glided past him. It startled Byrne oddly to seethe animal stealing away, as if Barry himself had been leaving. Hecalled to the beast, but he was met by a silent baring of white fangsthat stopped him in his tracks. The great dog was gone without a sound, and Byrne closed the door again without casting a look inside. He wasstupidly, foolishly afraid to look within. 

After that the silence had a more vital meaning. No pictures crowded hisbrain. He was simply keyed to a high point of expectancy, and therefore, when the door was opened silently, he sprang up as if in acknowledgmentof an alarm and faced Barry. The latter closed the door behind him andglided after the big dog. He had almost crossed the big room when Byrnewas able to speak. 

"Mr. Barry!" he called. 

The man hesitated. 

"Mr. Barry, " he repeated. 

And Dan Barry turned. It was something like the act of the wolf themoment before; a swift movement--a flash of the eyes in something likedefiance. 

"Mr. Barry, are you leaving us?"

"I'm going outside. "

"Are you coming back?"

"I dunno. "

A great joy swelled in the throat of Doctor Byrne. He felt like shoutingin triumph; yet he remembered once more how the girl had gone up thestairs, wearily, with fallen head. He decided that he would do what hecould to keep the stranger with them, and though Randall Byrne lived tobe a hundred he would never do a finer thing than what he attemptedthen. He stepped across the room and stood before Barry, blocking theway. 

"Sir, " he said gravely, "if you go now, you will work a great sorrow inthis house. "

A glint of anger rose in the eyes of Barry. 

"Joe Cumberland is sleepin' soun', " he answered. "He'll be a pile restedwhen he wakes up. He don't need me no more. "

"He's not the only one who needs you, " said Byrne. "His daughter hasbeen waiting impatiently for your coming, sir. "

The sharp glance of Barry wavered away. 

"I'd kind of like to stay, " he murmured, "but I got to go. "

A dull voice called from the next room. 

"It's Joe Cumberland, " said Byrne. "You see, he is not sleeping!"

The brow of Barry clouded, and he turned gloomily back. 

"Maybe I better stay, " he agreed. 

Yet before he made a step Byrne heard a far-away honking of the wildgeese, that musical discord carrying for uncounted miles through thewindy air. The sound worked like magic on Barry. He whirled back. 

"I got to go, " he repeated. 

And yet Byrne blocked the way. It required more courage to do that thanto do anything he had ever attempted in his life. The sweat poured outfrom under his armpits as the stranger stepped near; the blood rushedfrom his face as he stared into the eyes of Barry--eyes which now heldan uncanny glimmer of yellow light. 

"Sir, " said Byrne huskily, "you must not go! Listen! Old Cumberland iscalling to you again! Does that mean nothing? If you have some errandout in the night, let me go for you. "

"Partner, " said the soft voice of Barry, "stand aside. I got no time, I'm wanted!"

Every muscle of Randall Byrne's body was set to repulse the stranger inany effort to pass through that door, and yet, mysteriously, against hiswill, he found himself standing to one side, and saw the other slipthrough the open door. 

"Dan! Are ye there?" called a louder voice from the room beyond. 

There was no help for it. He, himself, must go back and face JoeCumberland. With a lie, no doubt. He would say that Dan had stepped outfor a moment and would be back again. That might put Cumberland safelyto sleep. In the morning, to be sure, he would find out thedeception--but let every day bury its dead. Here was enough trouble forone night. He went slowly, but steadily enough, towards the door of whathad now become a fatal room to the doctor. In that room he had seen hisdearest doctrines cremated. Out of that room he had come bearing theashes of his hopes in his hands. Now he must go back once more to try tofill, with science, a gap of which science could never take cognizance. 

He lingered another instant with his hand on the door; then he cast itwide bravely enough and stepped in. Joe Cumberland was sitting up on theedge of his couch. There was colour in the old man's face. It almostseemed, to the incredulous eyes of Byrne, that the face was filled out atrifle. Certainly the fire of the old cattleman's glance was lessunearthly. 

"Where's Dan?" he called. "Where'd he go?"

It was no longer the deep, controlled voice of the stoic; it was thealmost whining complaint of vital weakness. 

"Is there anything I can do for you?" parried Byrne. "Anything you needor wish?"

"Him!" answered the old man explosively. "Damn it, I need Dan! Where ishe? He was here. I _felt_ him here while I was sleepin'. _where is he?_"

"He has stepped out for an instant, " answered Byrne smoothly. "He willbe back shortly. "

"He--has--stepped--out?" echoed the old man slowly. Then he rose to thefull of his gaunt height. His white hair, his triangle of beard andpointed moustache gave him a detached, a mediaeval significance; aportrait by Van Dyck had stepped from its frame. 

"Doc, you're lyin' to me! Where has he gone?"

A sudden, almost hysterical burst of emotion swept Doctor Byrne. 

"Gone to heaven or hell!" he cried with startling violence. "Gone tofollow the wind and the wild geese--God knows where!"

Like a period to his sentence, a gun barked outside, there was a howl ofdemoniac pain and rage, and then a scream that would tingle in the earof Doctor Randall Byrne till his dying day. 

CHAPTER XXIII

HOW MAC STRANN KEPT THE LAW

For when the dog sprang, Mac Strann fired, and the wolf was jerked up inthe midst of his leap by the tearing impact of the bullet. It was easyfor Strann to dodge the beast, and the great black body hurtled past himand struck heavily on the floor of the barn. It missed Mac Strann, indeed, but it fell at the very feet of Haw-Haw Langley, and a splash ofblood flirted across his face. He was too terrified to shriek, but fellback against the wall of the barn, gasping. There he saw Black Bartstruggle to regain his feet, vainly, for both of the animal's forelegsseemed paralyzed. Now the yellow light of the fire rose brightly, and byit Haw-Haw marked the terrible eyes and the lolling, slavering tongue ofthe great beast, and the fangs like ivory daggers. It could not regainits feet, but it thrust itself forward by convulsive efforts of the hindlegs towards Mac Strann. 

Haw-Haw Langley stared for a single instant in white faced fear, butwhen he realised that Black Bart was helpless as a toothless old dog, the tall cowpuncher, twisted his lean fingers with a silent joy. Oncemore Bart pushed himself towards Mac Strann, and then Haw-Haw Langleystepped forward, and with all the force of his long leg smashed hisheavy riding boot into the face of the dog. Black Bart toppled backagainst the base of the manger, struggled vainly to regain his poise, and it was then that he pointed his nose up, and wailed like a lostsoul, wailed with the fury of impotent hate. Mac Strann caught Haw-Hawby the arm and dragged him back towards the door. 

"I don't want to _kill_ the dog, " he repeated. "Get out of here, Haw-Haw. Barry'll be comin' any minute. "

He could have used no sharper spur to urge on the laggard. Haw-HawLangley raced out of the barn a full stride before Mac Strann. Theyhurried together to the little rise of ground behind which they had lefttheir horses, and as they ran the scream which had curdled the blood ofRandall Byrne rang through the night. In a thousand years he could neverhave guessed from what that yell issued; his nearest surmise would havebeen a score of men screaming in unison under the torture. But MacStrann and Haw-Haw Langley knew the sound well enough. 

When they mounted their saddles they could look over the top of thelittle hill and observe everything easily without being seen; for thehill-top commanded a range of the corrals and a view of the fronts ofthe barns and sheds which opened upon the fenced enclosures. The largestand longest of these buildings was now plainly visible, for a long armof fire reached above the roof on one side of the low shed and by thisgrowing light the other barns, the glimmering-eyed horses and cattle ofthe corrals, the trees about the house, the house itself, were in turnvisible, though vaguely, and at times, as the flame lapsed, all werelost in a flood of swift darkness. Once more that unhuman shriek echoedfrom hill to hill and from building to building. It was Satan in his boxstall. The flames were eating through the partition, and the stallionwas mad with fear. 

Lights flashed, here and there, in the big ranch house; and from thebunk-house on the farther side of the corrals rose a volley of cursesand yells of dismay. The cattle began milling blindly, bellowing andstamping, and the horses ranged at a mad gallop back and forth acrosstheir corrals, wild-eyed with terror. It was like the tumult of abattle, and sharper than a trumpet a new sound cut through the din--itwas a short, high whistle, twice repeated. An answer came from theburning barn--the long, strong neighing of the stallion. 

"D'ye hear?" muttered Mac Strann. "It's the hoss talkin' to his master!"

"And there he comes!" said Haw-Haw Langley. "Runnin' like the wind!"

The flame, picked up by the gale, tore for itself a wider breathingspace through the roof and sent up an audibly roaring column of blindingred. By that light, Mac Strann, following Haw-Haw's directing arm, saw alithe figure vault over the fence on the farther side of the corral anddart forward among the milling cattle. 

Now, when cattle begin to mill it takes a brave man on a brave, well-trained horse to trust his chances in the midst of that ocean oftossing horns. But this man ventured it on foot. Mac Strann could followhim easily, for the man's hat was off, and the firelight glittered onhis black hair. That glimmering head darted here and there among thecircling cattle. Now it was lost, swamped, to all appearances, under ascore of trampling hooves. Again it reappeared on the further side. MacStrann could see the runner in a comparatively open space, racing like atrained sprinter, and he headed straight towards a wall of tossinghorns. They were long-horns, and one sway of those lowered heads coulddrive the hard, sharp point through and through the body of a man. Yetstraight at this impassable wall the stranger rushed, like a warrior inhis Berserker madness leaping naked upon a hedge of spears. At the vergeof the danger the man sprang high into the air. Two leaps, from back toback among the herd, and he was across the thickest of danger, down oncemore on the ground, and dodging past the outskirts of the bellowingcows. Over the nearer fence he vaulted and disappeared into the smokewhich vomitted from the mouth of the burning barn. 

"God A'mighty, " groaned Haw-Haw Langley, "can he get the hoss out?"

"It ain't possible, " answered Mac Strann. "All hosses goes mad whenthey gets in a fire--even when they sees a fire. Look at them fools overyonder in the corral. "

Indeed, in the horse-corral a score of frantic animals were attemptingto leap the high rails in the direction of the burning barn. Theirstamping and snorting came volleying up the hill to the watchers. 

"All hosses goes mad, " concluded Mac Strann, "an' Barry'll get trampedunder the feet of his own hoss even if he gets to the stall--which hewon't. Look there!"

Out of the rush of fire and smoke at the door of the barn Dan Barrystumbled, blindly, and fell back upon the ground. Haw-Haw Langley beganto twist his cold hands together in an ecstasy. 

"The hoss is gone and the wolf is gone, and Barry is beat!" he chuckledto himself. "Mac, I wouldn't of missed this for a ten days' ride. It'sworth it. But see the gal and that new gent, Mac!"

 * * * * *

For when the clamour arose outside the house, Buck Daniels had run tothe window. For many reasons he had not taken off his clothes thisnight, but had lain down on the bed and folded his hands behind his headto wait. With the first outcry he was at the window and there he saw theflames curling above the roof of the barn, and next, by that wild light, how Dan Barry raced through the dangerous corral, and then he heard theshrill neighing of Satan, and saw Dan disappear in the smoking door ofthe barn. 

Fear drew Buck Daniels one way but a fine impulse drew him another. Heturned away from the window with a curse; he turned back to it with acurse, and then, muttering: "He went through hell for me; and him and metogether, we'll go through hell again!" he ran from the room andthundered down the crazy stairs. 

As he left the house he found Kate Cumberland, and they went ontogether, running without a word to each other. Only, when he camebeside her, she stopped short and flashed one glance at him. By thatglance he knew that she understood why he was there, and that sheaccepted his sacrifice. 

They hurried around the outer edge of the corrals, and as theyapproached the flaming barn from one side the men from the bunk-houserushed up from the other. It was Buck Daniels who reached Dan as thelatter stumbled back from the door of the barn, surrounded by afollowing cloud of smoke, and fell stumbling to the ground. And Buckraised him. 

The girl was instantly beside them. 

She had thrown on a white dressing gown when she rose from bed. It wasgirded high across her breast, and over it showered her bright hair, flashing like liquid gold in growing light. She, now, received thesemi-conscious burden of Dan Barry, and Buck Daniels stepped forward, close to the smoke. He began to shout directions which the two watchersbehind the hill could not hear, though they saw his long arms point andgesticulate and they could see his speaking lips. But wild confusionwas on the crowd of cowpunchers. They ran here and there. One or twobrought buckets of water and tossed the contents uselessly into theswirling, red-stained hell of smoke. But most of them ran here andthere, accomplishing nothing. 

"An' all this come from one little match, Mac, " cried Haw-Hawecstatically at the ear of Mac Strann. "All what we're seein'! Look atthe gal, Mac! She's out of her wits! She's foolin' about Barry, doin' nogood. "

A gust of smoke and fire must have met Barry face to face when heentered the barn, for he seemed now as helpless as if he were under astrong narcotic influence. He leaned heavily back into the arms of thegirl, his head rolling wildly from side to side. Then, clearer thanbefore, dominating all the confusion of noise, and with a ringing, trumpet note of courage in it, the black stallion neighed again from hisburning stall. It had a magic effect upon Barry. He stood up and torehimself from the arms of the girl. They saw her gesture and cry to thesurrounding men for help, and a dozen hands were stretched out to keepthe madman from running again into the fire. They might better haveattempted to hold a wild horse with their naked hands. He slipped andbroke through their grips, and a second later had leaped into theinferno of smoke, running bent close to the ground where the pure air, if there were any, was sure to be. 

"The gal's sick!" said Haw-Haw Langley. "Look, Mac!"

And he began to laugh in that braying voice which had given him hisnickname. Yet even in his laughter his eyes were brightly observant; nota single detail of misery or grief was lost upon him; he drank it in; hefed his famine-stricken soul upon it. Kate Cumberland had buried herface in her arms; Buck Daniels, attempting to rush in after Dan Barry, had been caught beneath the arms by Doctor Byrne and another and was nowborne struggling back. 

From the very heart of the burning barn the sharp single whistle burstand over the rolling smoke and spring fire rose the answering neigh. Ahuman voice could not have spoken more intelligibly: "I wait in trust!"

After that neigh and whistle, a quiet fell over the group at the barndoor. There was nothing to do. There was not enough wind to blow theflames from this barn to one of the neighbouring sheds; all they coulddo was to stand still and watch the progress of the conflagration. 

The deep, thick voice of Mac Strann broke in: "Start prayin', Haw-Haw, that the hoss don't kill Barry when he gets to him. Start prayin' thatBarry is left for me to finish. "

He must have meant his singular request more as a figure of speech thana real demand, but an hysteria was upon Haw-Haw Langley. He stretched uphis vast, gaunt arms to the dim spot of red in the central heavensabove the fire, and Haw-Haw prayed for the first and last time in hislife. 

"O Lord, gimme this one favour. Bring Barry safe out of the barn. Bringhim out even if you got to bring the damned hoss with him. Bring him outand save him for Mac Strann to meet. And, God A'mighty, let me be aroundsomewhere's when they meet!"

This strange exhibition Mac Strann watched with a glowering eye. 

"But it ain't possible, " he said positively. "I been in fires. Barrycan't live through the fire; an' if he does, the hoss will finish him. It ain't possible for him to come out!"

From half the roof of the shed flames now poured, but presently a greatshower of sparks rose at the farther end of the barn, and then Haw-Hawheard the sound of a beating and crashing. 

"Hei!" he screamed, "Barry's reached the black hoss and the black hossis beating him into the floor!"

"You fool!" answered Mac Strann calmly, "Barry has got a beam orsomething and he's smashing down the burning partition of the box stall. That's what he's doing; listen!"

High over the fire, once again rose the neighing of the black horse, asound of unspeakable triumph. 

"You're right, " groaned Haw-Haw, downcast. "He's reached the hoss!"

He had hardly finished speaking when Mac Strann said: "Anyway, he'llnever get out. This end wall of the barn is fallin' in. "

Indeed, the outer wall of the barn, nearest the door, was wavering in agreat section and slowly tottering in. Another moment or two it wouldcrash to the floor and block the way of Dan Barry, coming out, with aflaming ruin. Next the watchers saw a struggle among the group whichwatched. Three men were struggling with Buck Daniels, but presently hewrenched his arms free, struck down two men before him with swingingblows of his fists, and leaped into the smoke. 

"He's gone nutty, like a crazy hoss with the sight of the fire, " saidMac Strann quietly. 

"He ain't! He ain't!" cried Haw-Haw Langley, wild with excitement. "He'sholdin' back the burnin' wall to keep the way clear, damn him!"

Indeed, the tottering wall, not having leaned to a great angle, was nowpushed back by some power from the inside of the barn and kept erect. Though now and again it swayed in, as though the strength which held itwas faltering under the strain. 

Now the eyes of the watchers were called to the other end of the barn bya tremendous crashing. The entire section of that part of the roof fellin, and a shower of sparks leaped up into the heart of the sky, lightingthe distant hills and drawing them near like watchers of the horror ofthe night. 

"That's the end, " said Mac Strann. "Haw-Haw, they wasn't any good inyour prayer. "

"I ain't a professional prayin' man, " answered Haw-Haw defensively, "butI done my best. If----" He was cut short by a chorused cry from thewatchers near the door of the barn, and then, through the vomitted smokeand the fire, leaped the unsaddled body of Satan bearing on his back thecrouched figure of Dan Barry, and in the arms of Barry, limp, his headhanging down loosely, was the body of the great black dog, Bart. 

A fearful picture. The smoke swept following around the black stallion, and a great tongue of flame licked hungrily after the trio. But thestallion stood with head erect, and ears flattened, pawing the ground. With that cloud of destruction blowing him he stood like the chargerwhich the last survivor might ride through the ruin of the universe inthe Twilight of the Gods. 

At the same instant, another smoke-clad figure lunged from the door ofthe barn, his hands outstretched as though he felt and fumbled his waythrough utter darkness. It was Buck Daniels, and as he cleared the doorthe section of tottering wall which he had upheld to keep the way clearfor the Three, wavered, sagged, and then sank in thunder to the floor, and the whole barn lay a flame-tossed mass of ruin. 

The watchers had scattered before the plunge of Satan, but he came to asliding halt, as if his rider had borne heavily back upon the reins. Barry slipped from the stallion's back with the wounded dog, and kneeledabove the limp figure. 

"It ain't the end, " growled Mac Strann, "that hoss will go runnin' backinto the fire. It ain't hoss nature to keep from goin' mad at the sightof a fire!"

In answer to him, the black stallion whirled, raised his head high, and, with flaunting mane and tail, neighed a ringing defiance at the risingflames. Then he turned back and nuzzled the shoulder of his master, whowas working with swift hands over the body of Black Bart. 

"Anyway, " snarled Haw-Haw Langley, "the damned wolf is dead. "

"I dunno, " said Mac Strann. "Maybe--maybe not. They's quite a pile thatwe dunno. "

"If you want to get rid of the hoss, " urged Haw-Haw, writhing in theglee of a new inspiration, "now's the time for it, Mac. Get out your gunand pot the black. Before the crowd can get after us, we'll be milesaway. They ain't a saddled hoss in sight. Well, if you don't want to doit, I will!" And he whipped out his gun. 

But Mac Strann reached across and dragged the muzzle down. 

"We done all we're goin' to do to-night. Seems like God's been listenin'pretty close, around here!"

He turned his horse, and Haw-Haw, reluctantly, followed suit. Still, asthey trotted slowly away from the burning barn, Haw-Haw kept his glancefixed behind him until a final roaring crash and a bellying cloud offire that smote the zenith announced the end of the barn. Then Haw-Hawturned his face to his companion. 

"Now what?" he demanded. 

"We go to Elkhead and sit down and wait, " answered Mac Strann. "If thedog gets well he'll bring Barry to us. Then all I've got to do is defendmyself. "

Haw-Haw Langley twisted up his face and laughed, silently, to thered-stained sky. 

CHAPTER XXIV

DOCTOR BYRNE LOOKS INTO THE PAST

The black head of Barry, the brown head of Randall Byrne, the goldenhead of Kate Cumberland, were all bowed around the limp body of BlackBart. Buck Daniels, still gasping for breath, stood reeling nearby. 

"Let me attempt to resuscitate the animal, " offered the doctor. 

He was met by a blank look from Barry. The hair of the man was scorched, his skin was blistered and burned. Only his hands remained uninjured, and these continued to move over the body of the great dog. KateCumberland was on her knees over the brute. 

"Is it fatal, Dan?" she asked. "Is there no hope for Bart?"

There was no answer from Barry, and she attempted to raise the fallen, lifeless head of the animal; but instantly a strong arm darted out andbrushed her hands away. Those hands fell idly at her sides and her headwent back as though she had been struck across the face. She foundherself looking up into the angry eyes of Randall Byrne. He reached downand raised her to her feet; there was no colour in her face, no life inher limbs. 

"There's nothing more to be done here, apparently, " said the doctorcoldly. "Suppose we take your father and go back to the house. "

She made neither assent nor dissent. Dan Barry had finished a swift, deft bandage and stopped the bleeding of the dog's wounds. Now he raisedhis head and his glance slipped rapidly over the faces of the doctor andthe girl and rested on Buck Daniels. There was no flash of kindlythanks, no word of recognition. His right hand raised to his cheek, andrested there, and in his eyes came that flare of yellow hate. BuckDaniels shrank back until he was lost in the crowd. Then he turned andstumbled back towards the house. 

Instantly, Barry began to work at expanding and depressing the lungs ofthe huge animal as he might have worked to bring a man back to life. 

"Watch him!" whispered the doctor to Kate Cumberland. "He is closer tothat dog--that wolf, it looks like--than he has ever been to any humanbeing!"

She would not answer, but she turned her head quickly away from the manand his beast. 

"Are you afraid to watch?" challenged Byrne, for his anger at Barry'sblunt refusals still made his blood hot. "When your father lay atdeath's door was he half so anxious as he is now? Did he work so hard, by half? See how his eyes are fixed on the muzzle of the beast as if hewere studying a human face!"

"No, no!" breathed the girl. 

"I fell you, look!" commanded the doctor. "For there's the solution ofthe mystery. No mystery at all. Barry is simply a man who is closer akinto the brute forces in nature. See! By the eternal heavens, he'sdragging that beast--that dumb beast--back from the door of death!"

Barry had ceased his rapid manipulations, and turned the big dog backupon its side. Now the eyes of Black Bart opened, and winked shut again. Now the master kneeled at the head of the beast and took the scarred, shaggy head between his hands. 

"Bart!" he commanded. 

Not a stir in the long, black body. The stallion edged a pace closer, dropped his velvet muzzle, and whinnied softly at the very ear of thedog. Still, there was not an answering quiver. 

"Bart!" called the man again, and there was a ring of wild grief--offear--in his cry. 

"Do you hear?" said Byrne savagely, at the ear of the girl. "Did youever use such a tone with a human being? Ever?"

"Take me away!" she murmured. "I'm sick--sick at heart. Take me away!"

Indeed, she was scarcely sure of her poise, and tottered where shestood. Doctor Byrne slipped his arm about her and led her away, supporting half her weight. They went slowly, by small, soft steps, towards the house, and before they reached it, he knew that she wasweeping. But if there was sadness in Byrne, there was also a great joy. He was afire, for there is a flamelike quality in hope. Loss of bloodand the stifling smoke, rather than a mortal injury or the touch offire, had brought Black Bart close to death, but now that his breathingwas restored, and almost normal, he gained rapidly. One instant helingered on the border between life and death; the next, the brute'seyes opened and glittered with dim recognition up towards Dan, and helicked the hand which supported his head. At Dan's direction, a blanketwas brought, and after Dan had lifted Black Bart upon it, four menraised the corners of the blanket and carried the burden towards thehouse. One of the cowpunchers went ahead bearing the light. This was thesight which Doctor Byrne and Kate Cumberland saw from the veranda of theranch-house as they turned and looked back before going in. 

"A funeral procession, " suggested the doctor. 

"No, " she answered positively. "If Black Bart were dead, Dan wouldn'tallow any hands save his own to touch the body. No, Black Bart is alive!Yet, it's impossible. "

The word "impossible, " however, was gradually dropping from thevocabulary of Randall Byrne. True, the wolf-dog had seemed dead pastrecovery and across the eyes of Byrne came a vision of the dead risingfrom their graves. Yet he merely shook his head and said nothing. 

"Ah!" she broke in. "Look!"

The procession drew nearer, heading towards the back of the big house, and now they saw that Dan Barry walked beside the body of Black Bart, asmile on his lifted face. They disappeared behind the back of thehouse. 

Byrne heard the girl murmuring, more to herself than to him: "Once hewas like that all the time. "

"Like what?" he asked bluntly. 

She paused, and then her hand dropped lightly on his arm. He could notsee more than a vague outline of her in the night, only the dull glimmerof her face as she turned her head, and the faint whiteness of her hand. 

"Let's say good-night, " she answered, at length. "Our little worlds havetoppled about our heads to-night--all your theories, it seems, and, Godknows, all that I have hoped. Why should we stay here and make ourselvesmiserable by talk?"

"But because we have failed, " he said steadily, "is that a reason weshould creep off and brood over our failure in silence? No, let's talkit out, man to man. "

"You have a fine courage, " said the girl. "But what is there we cansay?"

He answered: "For my part, I am not so miserable as you think. For Ifeel as if this night had driven us closer together, you see; and I'vecaught a perspective on everything that has happened here. "

"Tell me what you know. "

"Only what I think I know. It may be painful to hear. "

"I'm very used to pain. "

"Well, a moment ago, when Barry was walking beside his dog, smiling, youmurmured that he once was like that always. It gave me light. So I'dsay that there was a time when Dan Barry lived here with you and yourfather. Am I right?"

"Yes, for years and years. "

"And in those times he was not greatly different from other men. Not onthe surface. "

"No. "

"You came to be very fond of him. "

"We were to marry, " answered Kate Cumberland, and Byrne winced. 

He went on: "Then something happened--suddenly--that took him away fromyou, and you did not see him again until to-night. Am I right?"

"Yes. I thought you must have heard the story--from the outside. I'lltell you the truth. My father found Dan Barry wandering across the hillsyears ago. He was riding home over the range and he heard a strange andbeautiful whistling, and when he looked up he saw on the western ridge, walking against the sky, a tattered figure of a boy. He rode up andasked the boy his name. He learned it was Dan Barry--Whistling Dan, hewas called. But the boy could not, or would not, tell how he came to bethere in the middle of the range without a horse. He merely said that hecame from 'over there, ' and waved his hand to the south and east. Thatwas all. He didn't seem to be alarmed because he was alone, and yet heapparently knew nothing of the country; he was lost in this terriblecountry where a man could wander for days without finding a house, andyet the boy was whistling as he walked! So Dad took him home and sentout letters all about--to the railroad in particular--to find out ifsuch a boy was missing. 

"He received no answer. In the meantime he gave Dan a room in the house;and I remember how Dan sat at the table the first night--I was a verylittle girl then--and how I laughed at his strange way of eating. Hisknife was the only thing he was interested in and he made it serve forknife, fork, and spoon, and he held the meat in his fingers while he cutit. The next morning he was missing. One of Dad's range riders picked upDan several miles to the north, walking along, whistling gayly. The nextmorning he was missing again and was caught still farther away. Afterthat Dad had a terrible scene with him--I don't know exactly whathappened--but Dan promised to run away no more, and ever since then Dadhas been closer to Dan than anyone else. 

"So Dan grew up. From the time I could first distinctly remember, he wasvery gentle and good-natured, but he was different, always. After awhile he got Black Bart, you know, and then he went out with a halterand captured Satan. Think of capturing a wild mustang with nothing but ahalter! He played around with them so much that I was jealous of them. So I kept with them until Bart and Satan were rather used to me. Bartwould even play with me now and then when Dan wasn't near. And sofinally Dan and I were to be married. 

"Dad didn't like the idea. He was afraid of what Dan might become. Andhe was right. One day, in a saloon that used to stand on that hill overthere, Dan had a fight--his first fight--with a man who had struck himacross the mouth for no good reason. That man was Jim Silent. Of courseyou've heard of him?"

"Never. "

"He was a famous long-rider--an outlaw with a very black record. At theend of that fight he struck Dan down with a chair and escaped. I wentdown to Dan when I heard of the fight--Black Bart led me down, to beexact--but Dan would not come back to the house, and he'd have no moreto do with anyone until he had found Jim Silent. I can't tell youeverything that happened. Finally he caught Jim Silent and killedhim--with his bare hands. Buck Daniels saw it. Then Dan came back to us, but on the first night he began to grow restless. It was last Fall--thewild geese were flying south--and while they were honking in the sky Dangot up, said good-bye, and left us. We have never seen him again untilto-night. All we knew was that he had ridden south--after the wildgeese. "

A long silence fell between them, for the doctor was thinking hard. 

"And when he came back, " he said, "Barry did not know you? I mean youwere nothing to him?"

"You were there, " said the girl, faintly. 

"It is perfectly clear, " said Byrne. "If it were a little morecommonplace it might be puzzling, but being so extraordinary it clearsitself up. Did you really expect the dog, the wolf-dog, Black Bart, toremember you?"

"I may have expected it. "

"But you were not surprised, of course!"

"Naturally not. "

"Yet you see that Dan Barry--Whistling Dan, you call him--was closer toBlack Bart than he was to you?"

"Why should I see that?"

"You watched him a moment ago when he was leaning over the dog. "

He watched her draw her dressing gown closer about her, as though thecold bit more keenly then. 

She said simply: "Yes, I saw. "

"Don't you see that he is simply more in tune with the animal world? Andit's really no more reasonable to expect Black Bart to remember you thanit is to expect Dan Barry to remember you? It's quite plain. When you goback to the beginning man was simply an animal, without the highersenses, as we call them. He was simply a brute, living in trees or incaves. Afterwards he grew into the thing we all know. But why notimagine a throw-back into the earlier instincts? Why not imagine thecreature devoid of the impulses of mind, the thing which we call man, and see the splendid animal? You saw in Dan Barry simply a biologicalsport--the freak--the thing which retraces the biological progress andcomes close to the primitive. But of course you could not realise this. He seemed a man, and you accepted him as a man. In reality he was nomore a man than Black Bart is a man. He had the face and form of a man, but his instincts were as old as the ages. The animal world obeys him. Satan neighs in answer to his whistle. The wolf-dog licks his hand atthe point of death. There is the profound difference, always. You try toreconcile him with other men; you give him the attributes of other men. Open your eyes; see the truth: that he is no more akin to man than BlackBart is like a man. And when you give him your affection, MissCumberland, _you are giving your affection to a wild wolf!_ Do youbelieve me?"

He knew that she was shaken. He could feel it, even without thetestimony of his eyes to witness. He went on, speaking with greatrapidity, lest she should escape from the influence which he had alreadygained over her. 

"I felt it when I first saw him--a certain nameless kinship withelemental forces. The wind blew through the open door--it was Dan Barry. The wild geese called from the open sky--for Dan Barry. These are thethings which lead him. These the forces which direct him. You have lovedhim; but is love merely a giving? No, you have seen in him a man, but Isee in him merely the animal force. "

She said after a moment: "Do you hate him--you plead against him sopassionately?"

He answered: "Can you hate a thing which is not human? No, but you candread it. It escapes from the laws which bind you and which bind me. What standards govern it? How can you hope to win it? Love? What beautyis there in the world to appeal to such a creature except the beauty ofthe marrow-bone which his teeth have the strength to snap?"

"Ah, listen!" murmured the girl. "Here is your answer!"

And Doctor Randall Byrne heard a sound like the muted music of theviolin, thin and small and wonderfully penetrating. He could not tell, at first, what it might be. For it was as unlike the violin as it waslike the bow and the rosined strings. Then he made out, surely, that itwas the whistling of a human being. 

It followed no tune, no reasoned theme. The music was beautiful in itsown self. It rose straight up like the sky-lark from the ground, sheerup against the white light of the sky, and there it sang againstheaven's gate. He had never heard harmony like it. He would never againhear such music, so thin and yet so full that it went through andthrough him, until he felt the strains take a new, imitative life withinhim. He would have whistled the strains himself, but he could not followthem. They escaped him, they soared above him. They followed no law orrhythm. They flew on wings and left him far below. The girl moved awayfrom him as if led by an invisible hand, and now she stood at theextremity of the porch. He followed her. 

"Do you hear?" she cried, turning to him. 

"What is it?" asked the doctor. 

"It is he! Don't you understand?"

"Barry? Yes! But what does the whistling mean; is it for his wolf-dog?"

"I don't know, " she answered quickly. "All I understand is that it isbeautiful. Where are your theories and explanations now, Doctor Byrne?". 

"It _is_ beautiful--God knows!--but doesn't the wolf-dog understand itbetter than either you or I?"

She turned and faced Byrne, standing very close, and when she spokethere was something in her voice which was like a light. In spite of thedark he could guess at every varying shade of her expression. 

"To the rest of us, " she murmured, "Dan has nothing but silence, andhardly a glance. Buck saved his life to-night, and yet Dan rememberednothing except the blow which had been struck. And now--now he pours outall the music in his soul for a dumb beast. Listen!"

He saw her straighten herself and stand taller. 

"Then through the wolf--I'll conquer through the dumb beast!"

She whipped past Byrne and disappeared into the house; at the sameinstant the whistling, in the midst of a faint, high climax, broke, shivered, and was ended. There was only the darkness and the silencearound Byrne, and the unsteady wind against his face. 

CHAPTER XXV

WERE-WOLF

Doctor Byrne, pacing the front veranda with his thoughtful head bowed, saw Buck Daniels step out with his quirt dangling in his hand, hiscartridge belt buckled about his waist, and a great red silk bandanaknotted at his throat. 

He was older by ten years than he had been a few days before, when thedoctor first saw him. To be sure, his appearance was not improved by athree days' growth of beard. It gave his naturally dark skin a dirtycast, but even that rough stubble could not completely shroud the newhollows in Daniels' cheeks. His long, black, uncombed hair, sagged downraggedly across his forehead, hanging almost into his eyes; the eyesthemselves were sunk in such formidable cavities that Byrne caughthardly more than two points of light in the shadows. All thedevil-may-care insouciance of Buck Daniels was quite, quite gone. In itsplace was a dogged sullenness, a hang-dog air which one would not careto face of a dark night or in a lonely place. His manner was that of aman whose back is against the wall, who, having fled some keen pursuit, has now come to the end of his tether and prepares for desperate evenif hopeless battle. There was that about him which made the doctorhesitate to address the cowpuncher. 

At length he said: "You're going out for an outing, Mr. Daniels?"

Buck Daniels started violently at the sound of this voice behind him, and whirled upon the doctor with such a set and contorted expression offierceness that Byrne jumped back. 

"Good God, man!" cried the doctor, "What's up with you?"

"Nothin', " answered Buck, gradually relaxing from his first show ofsuspicion. "I'm beating it. That's all. "

"Leaving us?"

"Yes. "

"Not really!"

"D'you think I ought to stay?" asked Buck, with something of a sneer. 

The doctor hesitated, frowning in a puzzled way. At length he threw outhis hands in a gesture of mute abandonment. 

"My dear fellow, " he said with a faint smile, "I've about stopped tryingto think. "

At this Buck Daniels grinned mirthlessly. 

"Now you're talkin' sense, " he nodded. "They ain't no use in thinking. "

"But why do you leave so suddenly?"

Buck Daniels shrugged his broad shoulders. 

"I am sure, " went on Byrne, "that Miss Cumberland will miss you. "

"She will not, " answered the big cowpuncher. "She's got her hands fullwith--_him_. "

"Exactly. But if it is more than she can do, if she makes no headwaywith that singular fellow--she may need help----"

He was interrupted by a slow, long-drawn, deep-throated curse from BuckDaniels. 

"Why in hell should I help her with--_him?_"

"There is really no reason, " answered the doctor, alarmed, "except, Isuppose, old friendship----"

"Damn old friendship!" burst out Buck Daniels. "There's an end to allthings and my friendship is worn out--on both sides. It's done!"

He turned and scowled at the house. 

"Help her to win _him_ over? I'd rather stick the muzzle of my gun downmy throat and pull the trigger. I'd rather see her marry a man about tohang. Well--to hell with this place. I'm through with it. S'long, doc. "

But Doctor Byrne ran after him and halted him at the foot of the stepsdown from the veranda. 

"My dear Mr. Daniels, " he urged, touching the arm of Buck. "You reallymustn't leave so suddenly as this. There are a thousand questions on thetip of my tongue. "

Buck Daniels regarded the professional man with a hint of weariness anddisgust. 

"Well, " he said, "I'll hear the first couple of hundred. Shoot!"

"First: the motive that sends you away. "

"Dan Barry. "

"Ah--ah--fear of what he may do?"

"Damn the fear. At least, it's him that makes me go. "

"It seems an impenetrable mystery, " sighed the doctor. "I saw you theother night step into the smoking hell of that barn and keep the wayclear for this man. I knew, before that, how you rode and risked yourlife to bring Dan Barry back here. Surely those are proofs offriendship!"

Buck Daniels laughed unpleasantly. He laid a large hand on the shoulderof the doctor and answered: "If them was the only proofs, doc, Iwouldn't feel the way I do. Proofs of friendship? Dan Barry has saved mefrom the--rope!--and he's saved me from dyin' by the gun of Jim Silent. He took me out of a rotten life and made me a man that could look honestmen in the face!"

He paused, swallowing hard, and the doctor's misty, overworked eyeslighted with some comprehension. He had felt from the first a certaindanger in this big fellow, a certain reckless disregard of laws andrules which commonly limit the actions of ordinary men. Now part of thetruth was hinted at. Buck Daniels, on a time, had been outside the law;and Barry had drawn him back to the ways of men. That explained some ofthe singular bond that lay between them. 

"That ain't all, " went on Buck. "Blood is thick, and I've loved himbetter nor a brother. I've gone to hell and back for him. For him I tookKate Cumberland out of the hands of Jim Silent, and I left myself inher place. I took her away and all so's she could go to him. Damn him!And now on account of him I got to leave this place. "

His voice rose to a ringing pitch. 

"D'you think it's easy for me to go? D'you think it ain't like tearing afinger-nail off'n the flesh for me to go away from Kate? God knows whatshe means to me! God knows, but if He does, He's forgotten me!"

Anguish of spirit set Buck Daniels shaking, and the doctor looked on inamazement. He was like one who reaches in his pocket for a copper coinand brings out a handful of gold-pieces. 

"Kind feelin's don't come easy to me, " went on Buck Daniels. "I beenraised to fight. I been raised to hard ridin' and dust in the throat. Ibeen raised on whiskey and hate. And then I met Dan Barry, and his voicewas softer'n a girl's voice, and his eyes didn't hold no doubt of me. Methat had sneaked in on him at night and was goin' to kill him in hissleep--because my chief had told me to! That was the Dan Barry what Ifirst knew. He give me his hand and give me the trust of his eyes, andafter he left me I sat down and took my head between my hands and myheart was like to bust inside me. It was like the clouds had blowed awayfrom the sun and let it shine on me for the first time in my life. And Iswore that if the time come I'd repay him. For every cent he give me I'dpay him back in gold. I'd foller to the end of the world to do what hebid me do. "

His voice dropped suddenly, choked with emotion. 

"Oh, doc, they was tears come in my eyes; and I felt sort of cleaninside, and I wasn't ashamed of them tears! That was what Dan Barry donefor me!

"And I _did_ pay him back, as much as I could. I met Kate Cumberland andshe was to me among girls what Dan Barry was to me among men. I ain'tashamed of sayin' it. I loved her till they was a dryness like ashesinside me, but I wouldn't even lift up my eyes to her, because shebelonged to him. I follered her around like a dog. I done her bidding. Iasked no questions. What she wanted--that was law to me, and all the lawI wanted. All that I done for the sake of Dan Barry. And then I took mylife in my hands for him--not once, but day after day. 

"Then he rode off and left her and I stayed behind. D'you think it'sbeen easy to stay here? Man, man, I've had to hear her talkin' about DanBarry day after day, and never a word for me. And I had to tell herstories about Dan and what he'd used to do, and she' sit with her eyesmiles away from me, listenin' an smilin' and me there hungerin' for justone look out of her eyes--hungerin' like a dyin' dog for water. And thenfor her and Joe I rode down south and when I met Dan Barry d'you thinkthey was any light in his eyes when he seen me?

"No, he'd forgotten me the way even a hoss won't forget his master. Forgot me after a few months--and after all that'd gone between us! Noteven Kate--even she was nothin' to him. But still I kept at it and Ibrought him back. I had to hurt him to do it, but God knows it wasn'tout of spite that I hit him--God knows!

"And when I seen Dan go into that burnin' barn I says to myself: 'Buck, if nothin' is done that wall will fall and there's the end of Dan Barry. There's the end of him, that ain't any human use, and when he's finishedafter a while maybe Kate will get to know that they's other men in theworld besides Dan. ' I says that to myself, deep and still inside me. Andthen I looked at Kate standin' in that white thing with her yaller hairall blowin' about her face--and I wanted her like a dyin' man wantsheaven! But then I says to myself again: 'No matter what's happened, he's been my friend. He's been my pal. He's been my bunkie. '

"Doc, you ain't got a way of knowin' what a partner is out here. Maybeyou sit in the desert about a thousand miles from nowhere, and acrossthe little mesquite fire, there's your pal, the only human thing insight. Maybe you go months seein' only him. If you're sick he takes careof you. If you're blue he cheers you up. And that's what Dan Barry wasto me. So I stands sayin' these things to myself, and I says: 'If I keepthat wall from fallin' Dan'll know about it, and they won't be no moreof that yaller light in his eyes when he looks at me. That's what I saysto myself, poor fool!

"And I went into the fire and I fought to keep that wall from fallin'. You know what happened. When I come out, staggerin' and blind and threeparts dead, Dan Barry looks up to me and touches his face where I'd hithim, and the yaller comes up glimmerin' and blazin' in his eyes. Then Iwent back to my room and I fought it out. 

"And here's where I stand now. If I stay here, if I see that yallerlight once more, they won't be no waitin'. Him and me'll have to have itout right then. Am I a dog, maybe, that I got to stand around and jumpwhen he calls me?"

"My dear fellow--my dear Mr. Daniels!" cried the horrified Doctor Byrne. "Surely you're wrong. He wouldn't go so far as to make a personal attackupon you!"

"Wouldn't he? Bah! Not if he was a man, no. I tell you, he ain't a man;he's what the canuks up north call a were-wolf! There ain't no mercy orkindness in him. The blood of a man means nothin' to him. The worldwould be better rid of him. Oh, he can be soft and gentle as a girl. Mostly he is. But cross him once and he forgets all you done for him. Give him a taste of blood and he jumps at your throat. I tell you, I'veseen him do it!"

He broke off with a shudder. 

"Doc, " he said, in a lower and solemn voice. "Maybe I've said too much. Don't tell Kate nothin' about why I'm goin'. Let her go on dreamin' herfool dream. But now hear what I'm sayin'; If Dan Barry crosses me oncemore, one of us two dies, and dies damned quick. It may be me, it may behim, but I've come to the end of my rope. I'm leavin' this place tillBarry gets a chance to come to his senses and see what I've done forhim. That's all. I'm leavin' this place because they's a blighton it, and that blight is Dan Barry. I'm leaving this placebecause--doc--because I can smell the comin' of bloodshed in it. They'sa death hangin' over it. If the lightnin' was to hit and burn it up, house and man, the range would be better for it!"

And he turned on his heel and strode slowly down towards the corral. Doctor Byrne followed his progress with starting eyes. 

CHAPTER XXVI

THE BATTLE

The chain which fastened Black Bart had been passed around the trunk ofa tree that stood behind the ranch house, and there the great dog laytethered. Doctor Byrne had told Whistling Dan, with some degree ofhorror, that the open air was in the highest degree dangerous to wounds, but Whistling Dan had returned no answer. So Black Bart lay all day inthe soft sand, easing himself from time to time into a new position, andhis thoughtful eyes seemed to be concentrated on the desire to growwell. Beside him was the chair in which Dan Barry sat for many an hourof the day and even the night. 

Kate Cumberland watched the animal from the shadow of the house; hiseyes were closed, and the long, powerful head lay inert on the sand, yetshe knew that the wolf-dog was perfectly aware of her presence. Dayafter day since he lay there, she had attempted to approach Black Bart, and day after day he had allowed her to come within reaching distance ofhim, only to drive her back at the last moment by a sudden display ofthe murderous, long fangs; or by one of those snarls which came out ofthe black depths of his heart. Now, a dog snarls from not far down inits throat, but the noise of an angered wild beast rolls up out of itsvery entrails--a passion of hate and defiance. And when she heard thatsound, or when she saw the still more terrible silent rage of the beast, Kate Cumberland's spirit failed, and she would shrink back again to asafe distance. 

She was not easily discouraged. She had that grim resolution which comesto the gambler after he has played at the same table night after night, night after night, and lost, lost, lost, until, playing with the last ofhis money, he begins to mutter through his set teeth: "The luck _must_change!" So it was with Kate Cumberland. For in Black Bart she saw theonly possible clue to Whistling Dan. There was the stallion, to be sure, but she knew Satan too well. Nothing in the wide world could induce thatwild heart to accept more than one master--more than one friend. ForSatan there was in the animal world Black Bart, and in the world of men, Dan Barry. These were enough. For all the rest he kept the disdainfulspeed of his slender legs or the terror of his teeth and tramplinghoofs. Even if she could have induced the stallion to eat from her handshe could never have made him willing to trust himself to her guidance. Some such thing she felt that she must accomplish with Black Bart. Tothe wild beast with the scarred and shaggy head she must become anecessary, an accepted thing. 

One repulse did not dishearten her. Again and again she made the trial. She remembered having read that no animal can resist the thoughtfulpatience of thinking man, and hour after hour she was there, until a newlight in the eye of the wolf-dog warned her that the true master wascoming. 

Then she fled, and from a post of vantage in the house she would watchthe two. An intimacy surpassing the friendships and devotions of humanbeings existed between them. She had seen the wolf lie with his greathead on the foot of his master and the unchanging eyes fixed on Barry'sface--and so for an hour at a stretch in mute worship. Or she hadwatched the master go to the great beast to change the dressing--a thingwhich could not be done too often during the day. She had seen the swifthands remove the bandages and she had seen the cleansing solutionapplied. She knew what it was; it stung even the unscratched skin, andto a wound it must be torture, but the wolf lay and endured--not evenshuddering at the pain. 

It had seemed to her that this was the great test. If she could make thewolf lie like this for her, then, truly, she might feel herself in somemeasure admitted to that mystic fellowship of the three--the man, thestallion, and the wolf. If she could, with her own unaided hands, removethe bandages and apply that solution, then she could know many things, and she could feel that she was nearer to Whistling Dan than everbefore. 

So she had come, time and again, with the basin and the roll of clothin her arm, and she had approached with infinite patience, step by step, and then inch by inch. Once it had taken a whole hour for her to comewithin a yard of the beast. And all that time Black Bart had lain withclosed eyes. But at the critical instant always there was the silentwrithing up of the lips and the gleam of hate--or the terrible snarlwhile the eyes fastened on her throat. Her heart had stopped inmid-beat; and that day she ran back into the house and threw herself onher bed, and would not come from her room till the following morning. 

Now, as she watched from the shadow of the house, with the basin ofantiseptic under her arm, the gambler's desperation rose stronger andstronger. She came out, at length, and walked steadily towards BlackBart. She had grown almost heedless of fear at this moment, but when shewas within a pace, once more the head reared back; the teeth flashed. And the heart of Kate Cumberland, as always, stopped. Yet she did notretreat this time. All the colour left her face, so that her eyes seemedamazingly blue and wide. One foot drew back, tremblingly ready to springto safety; yet she held her place. She moved--and it was towards BlackBart. 

At that came a snarl that would have made the heart of a lone grizzlyquake and leave his new-found nuts. One further pace she made--and thebeast plunged up, and braced itself with its one strong fore leg. Adevil of yellow-green gleamed in either eye, and past the grinningfangs she saw the hot, red throat, and she saw the flattened ears, thescars on the bony forehead, the muscles that bulged on the base of thejaw. Ay, strength to drive those knife-like teeth through flesh and boneat a single snap. More--she had seen their effect, and the throat of abull cut at a single slash. And yet--she sank on her knees beside themonster. 

His head was well nigh as high as hers, then; if he attacked there couldbe no dream of escape for her. Or she might drag herself away from thetearing teeth--a disfigured horror forever. Think not that an iota ofall these terrors missed her mind. No, she felt the fangs buried in herthroat and heard the snarl of the beast stifled with blood. Yet--shelaid her hand on the bandage across the shoulder of Black Bart. 

His head whirled. With those ears flattened, with that long, lean neck, it was like the head of a striking snake. Her sleeve was rolled up tothe elbow, and over the bare skin the teeth of the wolf-dog were set. The snarl had grown so deep and hideous that the tremor of it fairlyshook her, and she saw that the jaws of the beast slavered with hunger. She knew--a thousand things about Black Bart, and among the rest that hehad tasted human blood. And there is a legend which says that once awild beast has tasted the blood of man he will taste it a second timebefore he dies. She thought of that--she dared not turn her head lestshe should encounter the hellfire of Bart's eyes. Yet she had passedall ordinary fear. She had reached that exquisite frenzy of terror whenit becomes one with courage. The very arm over which the wolf's teethwere set moved--raised--and with both hands she untied the knot of thebandage. 

The snarling rose to a pitch of maniacal rage; the teeth compressed--ifthey broke the skin it was the end; the first taste of blood would beenough!--and drew away her arm. If she had started then, all the devilin the creature would be loosed, for her terror taught her that. And bysome mysterious power that entered her at that moment she was able toturn her head, slowly, and look deep into those terrible eyes. 

Her arm was released. 

But Black Bart crouched and the snakelike head lowered; he was quiveringthroughout that steel-muscled body to throw himself at her throat. Thefinger was on the hair-trigger; it needed a pressure not greater than abodiless thought. And still she looked into the eyes of the wolf-dog;and her terror had made her strangely light of body and dizzy of mind. Then the change came, suddenly. The yellow-green changed, swirled in theeyes of Black Bart; the eyes themselves wavered, and at last lookedaway; the snarl dropped to a sullen growl. And Black Bart lay down as hehad been before. 

His head was still turned towards her, to be sure. And the teeth werestill bared, as with rapid, deft fingers she undid the bandage; and frominstant to instant, as the bandage in spite of her care pressed againstthe wound, the beast shivered and wicked glances flashed up at her face. The safe-blower who finds his "soup" cooling and dares not set it downfelt as Kate Cumberland felt then. 

She never knew what kept her hands steady, but steady they were. Thecloth was removed, and now she could see the red, angry wound, with thehair shaven away to a little distance on every side. She dipped hercloth into the antiseptic; it stung her fingers! She touched the clothlightly against the wound; and to her astonishment the wolf-dog relaxedevery muscle and let his head fall to the ground; also the growl diedinto a soft whine, and this in turn ended. 

She had conquered! Ay, when the wound was thoroughly cleansed and whenshe started to wind the bandage again, she had even the courage to touchBlack Bart's body and make him rise up so that she could pass the clothfreely. At her touch he shuddered, to be sure, as a man might shudder atthe touch of an unclean thing, but there was no snarl, and the teethwere not bared. 

As she tied the knot which secured the bandage in its place she wasaware that the eyes of Bart, no longer yellow-green, watched her; andshe felt some vague movement of the wonder that was passing through thebrute mind. Then the head of the wolf-dog jerked up; he was staring atsomething in the distance, and there was nothing under heaven that Bartwould raise his head to look at in this manner except one thing. Thefingers of Kate grew stiff, and trembled. Slowly, in a panic, shefinished the knot, and then she was aware of someone who had approachedwithout sound and now stood behind her. 

She looked up, at length, before she rose to her feet. 

Thankfulness welled up warm in her heart to find her voice steady andcommonplace when she said: "The wound is much better. Bart will be wellin a very few days now. "

Whistling Dan did not answer, and his wondering eyes glanced past herown. She saw that he was staring at a double row of white indentationson her forearm, where the teeth of Black Bart had set. He knew thosemarks, and she knew he knew. Strength was leaving her, and weakness wentthrough her--water where blood should have been. She dared not stay. Inanother moment she would be hopelessly in the grip of hysteria. 

So she rose, and passed Dan without a word, and went slowly towards thehouse. She tried to hurry, indeed, but her legs would not quicken theirpace. Yet at length she had reached shelter and no sooner was she pastthe door of the house than her knees buckled; she had to steady herselfwith both hands as she dragged herself up the stairs to her room. There, from the window, she looked down and saw Whistling Dan standing as shehad left him, staring blankly at the wolf-dog. 

CHAPTER XXVII

THE CONQUEST

There was no star-storming confidence in Kate Cumberland after thatfirst victory. Rather she felt as the general who deploys hisskirmishers and drives in the outposts of an enemy. The advantage ishis, but it has really only served to give him some intimation of thestrength of the enemy. At the supper table this night she foundWhistling Dan watching her--not openly, for she could never catch hiseye--but subtly, secretly, she knew that he was measuring her, studyingher; whether in hostility, amity, or mere wonder, she could not tell. Finally a vast uneasiness overtook her and she turned to the doctor forrelief. Doctor Randall Byrne held a singular position in the attentionof Kate. Since the night of the fire and her open talk with him, thedoctor knew "everything, " and women are troubled in the presence of aman who knows the details of the past. 

The shield behind which they hide in social intercourse is a touch ofmystery--or at least a hope of mystery. The doctor, however, was notlike other men; he was more similar to a precocious child and shecomforted herself in his obvious talent for silence. If he had beenalert, strong, self-confident, she might have hated him because he knewso much about her; but when she noted the pale, thoughtful face, thevast forehead outbalancing the other features, and the wistful, uncertain eyes, she felt nothing towards him stronger than pity. 

It is good for a woman to have something which she may pity, a child, anaged parent, or a house-dog. It provides, in a way, the backgroundagainst which she acts; so Kate, when in doubt, turned to the doctor, ason this night. There was a certain cruelty in it, for when she smiled athim the poor doctor became crimson, and when she talked to him hisanswers stumbled on his tongue; and when she was silent and merelylooked at him that was worst of all, for he became unable to manageknife and fork and would sit crumbling bread and looking frightened. Then he was apt to draw out his glasses and make a move to place them onhis nose, but he always caught and checked himself in time--which addedto his embarrassment. 

These small maneuvres had not lasted long before the girl became awarethat the silent attention of Whistling Dan had passed from her to thedoctor--and held steadily upon him. She did not go so far as to call itjealousy, but certainly it was a grave and serious consideration thatmeasured the doctor up and down and back again; and it left her free toexamine the two men in contrast. For the first time it struck her thatthey were much alike in many ways. Physically, for instance, there wasthe same slenderness, the same delicacy with which the details werefinished; the same fragile hands, for instance. The distinction lay in asuggestion of strength and inexhaustible reserve of energy which DanBarry possessed. The distinction lay still more in their faces. That ofByrne was worn and pallied from the long quest and struggle for truth;the body was feeble; the eyes were uncertain; but within there was apowerful machine which could work infallibly from the small to the largeand the large to the small. With Whistling Dan there was no suggestionat all of mental care. She could not imagine him worrying over aproblem. His knowledge was not even communicable by words; it was moreimpalpable than the instinct of a woman; and there was about him thewisdom and the coldness of Black Bart himself. 

The supper ended too soon for Kate. She had been rallying Randall Byrne, and as soon as he could graciously leave, the poor fellow rose with acrimson face and left the room; and behind him, sauntering apparently inthe most casual manner, went Whistling Dan. As for Kate Cumberland, shecould not put all the inferences together--she dared not; but when shelay in her bed that night it was a long time before she could sleep, forthere was a voice inside her, singing. 

She chose her time the next day. Dan alternated between Black Bart andold Joe Cumberland during most of the day, and no sooner had he leftthe wolf-dog in the morning than she went out to Bart. 

As always, Black Bart lay with his head flattened against the sand, dreaming in the sun, and not an eyelid quivered when she approached, yetshe understood perfectly that the animal knew every move she made. Shewould have attempted to dress the wound again, but the memory of theordeal of yesterday was too terrible. She might break down in the midstof her effort, and the first sign of weakness, she knew, was the onlyspur which Black Bart needed. So she went, instead, to the chair whereDan often sat for hours near the dog, and there she took her place, folded her hands on her lap, and waited. She had no particular plan inmind, more than that she hoped to familiarize the great brute with thesight of her. Once he had known her well enough, but now he hadforgotten all that passed before as completely, no doubt, as WhistlingDan himself had forgotten. 

While she sat there, musing, she remembered a scene that had occurrednot many a month before. She had been out walking one fall day, and hadgone from the house down past the corrals where a number of cattle newlydriven in from the range were penned. They were to be driven off forshipment the next day. A bellowing caught her ear from one of theenclosures and she saw two bulls standing horn to horn, their headslowered, and their puffing and snorting breaths knocking up the dustwhile they pawed the sand back in clouds against their flanks. Whileshe watched, they rushed together, bellowing, and for a moment theyswayed back and forth. It was an unequal battle, however, for one of theanimals was a hardened veteran, scarred from many a battle on the range, while the other was a young three-year old with a body not half sostrong as his heart. For a short time he sustained the weight of thelarger bull, but eventually his knees buckled, and then dropped heavilyagainst the earth. At that the older bull drew back a little and chargedagain. This time he avoided the long horns of his rival and made theunprotected flank of the animal his target. If he had charged squarelythe horns would have been buried to the head; but striking at an angleonly one of them touched the target and delivered a long, ripping blow. With the blood streaming down his side, the wounded bull made off into agroup of cows, and when the victor pursued him closely, he at lengthturned tail and leaped the low fence--for the corral was a new one, hastily built for the occasion. The conqueror raised his head inside thefence and bellowed his triumph, and outside the fence the othercommenced pawing up the sand again, switching his tail across hisbleeding side, and turning his little red eyes here and there. Theyfixed, at length, upon Kate Cumberland, and she remembered with a startof horror that she was wearing a bright red blouse. The next instant thebull was charging. She turned in a hopeless flight. Safety was hundredsof yards away in the house; the skirts tangled about her legs; andbehind her the dull impacts of the bull's hoofs swept close and closer. Then she heard a snarl in front, a deep-throated, murderous snarl, andshe saw Black Bart racing towards her. He whizzed by her like a blackthunderbolt; there was a roar and bellow behind her, and at the sametime she stumbled over a fence-board and fell upon her knees. But whenshe cast a glance of terror behind her she saw the bull lying on itsside with lolling tongue and glazing eyes and the fangs of Black Dartwere buried in its throat. 

When she reached this point in her musings her glance naturally turnedtowards the wolf-dog, and she started violently when she saw that Bartwas slinking towards her, trailing the helpless leg. The moment he felther eyes upon him, Bart dropped down, motionless, with a wicked baringof his teeth; his eyes closed, and he seemed, as usual, dreaming in thesun. 

Was the brute stalking her? It was worse, in a way, than the ordeal ofthe day before, this stealthy, noiseless approach. And in her panic shefirst thought of springing from her chair and reaching a distance whichthe chain would keep him from following. Yet it was very strange. BlackBart in his wildest days after Dan brought him to the ranch had neverbeen prone to wantonly attack human beings. Infringe upon his right, come suddenly upon him, and then, indeed, there was a danger to allsaving his master. But this daylight stalking was stranger than wordscould tell. 

She forced her eyes to look straight ahead and sat with a beatingheart, waiting. Then, by slow degrees, she let her glance travelcautiously back towards Bart without turning her head. There was nodoubt about it! The great wolf-dog was slinking towards her on hisbelly, still trailing the wounded foreleg. There was something snakelikein that slow approach, so silent and so gradual. 

And yet she waited, moving neither hand nor foot. 

A sort of nightmare paralysis held her, as when we flee from some horrorin our dreams and find that our limbs have grown numb. Behind us racesthe deadly thing, closer and closer; before us is the door ofsafety--only a step to reach it--and yet we cannot move a foot!

It was not all pure terror. There was an incredible excitement aswell--her will against the will of the dumb brute--which would conquer?

She heard a faint rustling of the sand beside her and could hardly keepfrom turning her head again. But she succeeded. Waves of coldness brokeon her mind; her whole body would have shuddered had not fear chilledher into motionlessness. All reason told her that it was madness to sitthere with the stealthy horror sliding closer; even now it might be toolate. If she rose the shaggy form might spring from the ground at her. Perhaps the wolf had treasured up the pain from the day before and now--

A black form did, indeed, rise from the ground, but slowly. And standingon three legs, Bart stood a moment and stared in the face of the girl. The fear rushed out of her heart; and her face flushed hotly withrelief. There was no enmity in the steady stare of the wolf-dog. Shecould feel that even though she did not look. Something that WhistlingDan had said long before came to her: "Even a hoss and a dog, Kate, canget terrible lonesome. "

Black Bart moved until he faced her directly. His ears were pricking ineagerness; she heard a snarl, but so low and muffled that there washardly a threat in it; could it be a plea for attention? She would notlook down to the sharp eyes, until a weight fell on her knees--it wasthe long, scarred head of the wolf! The joy that swelled in her was sogreat that it pained her like a grief. 

She stretched out her hand, slowly, slowly towards that head. And BlackBart shrank and quivered, and his lips writhed back from the long, deadly teeth, and his snarl grew to a harsher, hoarser threat; still hedid not remove his head, and he allowed the hand to touch him betweenthe eyes and stroke the fur back to between the ears. Only one otherhand had ever touched that formidable head in such a manner! The teethno longer showed; the keen, suspicious eyes grew dim with pleasure; thesnarl sank to murmur and then died out. 

"Bart!" commanded the girl, sharply. 

The head jerked up, but the questing eyes did not look at her. Heglanced over his shoulder to find the danger that had made her voice sohard. And she yearned to take the fierce head in her arms; there weretears she could have wept over it. He was snarling again, preparedalready to battle, and for her sake. 

"Bart!" she repeated, more gently. "Lie down!"

He turned his head slowly back to her and looked with the unspeakablewistfulness of the dumb brutes into her eyes. But there was only onevoice in which Bart could speak, and that was the harsh, rattling snarlwhich would have made a mountain-lion check itself mid-leap and slinkback to its lair. In such a voice he answered Kate, and then sank down, gradually. And he lay still. 

So simply, and yet so mysteriously, she was admitted to the partnership. But though one member of that swift, grim trio had accepted her, did itmean that the other two would take her in?

A weight sank on her feet and when she looked down she saw that BlackBart had lowered his head upon them, and so he lay there with his eyesclosed, dreaming in the sun. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE TRAIL

Bandages and antiseptics and constant care, by themselves could not havehealed Black Bart so swiftly, but nature took a strong hand. The woundclosed with miraculous speed. Three days after he had laid his head onthe feet of Kate Cumberland, the wolf-dog was hobbling about on threelegs and tugging now and again at the restraining chain; and the dayafter that the bandages were taken off and Whistling Dan decided thatBart might run loose. It was a brief ceremony, but a vital one. DoctorByrne went out with Barry to watch the loosing of the dog; from thewindow of Joe Cumberland's room he and Kate observed what passed. Therewas little hesitancy in Black Bart. He merely paused to sniff the footof Randall Byrne, snarl, and then trotted with a limp towards thecorrals. 

Here, in a small enclosure with rails much higher than the othercorrals, stood Satan, and Black Bart made straight for the stallion. Hewas seen from afar, and the black horse stood waiting, his head thrownhigh in the air, his ears pricking forward, the tail flaunting, apicture of expectancy. So under the lower rail Bart slunk and stoodunder the head of Satan, growling terribly. Of this display of angerthe stallion took not the slightest notice, but lowered his beautifulhead until his velvet nose touched the cold muzzle of Bart. There wassomething ludicrous about the greeting--it was such an odd shade closeto the human. It was as brief as it was strange, for Black Bart at oncewhirled and trotted away towards the barns. 

By the time Doctor Byrne and Whistling Dan caught up with him, thewolf-dog was before the heaps and ashes which marked the site of theburned barn. Among these white and grey and black heaps he picked hisway, sniffing hastily here and there. In the very centre of the place hesat down suddenly on his haunches, pointed his nose aloft, and wailedwith tremendous dreariness. 

"Now, " murmured the doctor to Dan, "that strikes me as a singularmanifestation of intelligence in an animal--he has found the site of thevery barn where he was hurt--upon my word! Even fire doesn't affect hismemory!"

Here he observed that the face of Whistling Dan had grown grim. He ranto Bart and crouched beside him, muttering; and Byrne heard. 

"That's about where you was lyin', " said Dan, "and you smell your ownblood on the ground. Keep tryin', Bart. They's something else to findaround here. "

The wolf-dog looked his master full in the face with pricking ears, whined and then started off sniffling busily at the heaps of ashes. 

"The shooting of the dog is quite a mystery, " said Byrne, by way ofconversation. "Do you suppose that one of the men from the bunk-housecould have shot him?"

But Dan seemed no longer aware of the doctor's presence. He slipped hereand there with the wolf-dog among the ash-heaps, pausing when Bartpaused, talking to the brute continually. Sometimes he pointed out toBart things which the doctor did not perceive and Bart whined with aterrible, slavering, blood-eagerness. 

The wolf-dog suddenly left the ash-heaps and now darted in swiftlyentangled lines here and there among the barns. Dan Barry stoodthoughtfully still, but now and then he called a word of encouragement. 

And Black Bart stayed with his work. Now he struck out a wide circle, running always with his nose close to the ground. Again he doubled backsharply to the barn-site, and began again in a new direction. He ranswiftly, sometimes putting his injured leg to the ground with hardly alimp, and again drawing it up and running on three feet. In a moment hepassed out of sight behind a slight rise of ground to the left of theash-heaps, and at some little distance. He did not reappear. Instead, along, shrill wail came wavering towards the doctor and Dan Barry. Itraised the hair on the head of the doctor and sent a chill through hisveins; but it sent Whistling Dan racing towards the place behind whichBlack Bart had disappeared. The doctor hurried after as fast as hemight and came upon the wolf-dog making small, swift circles, his noseto the ground, and then crossing to and fro out of the circles. And theface of the master was black while he watched. He ran again to Bart andbegan talking swiftly. 

"D'you see?" he asked, pointing. "From behind this here hill you couldget a pretty good sight of the barn--and you wouldn't be seen, hardly, from the barn. Someone must have waited here. Look about, Bart, you'llbe findin' a pile of signs, around here. It means that them that donethe shootin' and the firin' of the barn stood right here behind thishill-top and watched the barn burn--and was hopin' that Satan and youwouldn't ever come out alive. That's the story. "

He dropped to his knees and caught Bart as the big dog ran by. 

"Find'em, Bart!" he whispered. "Find'em!"

And he struck sharply on the scar where the bullet had ploughed its wayinto Bart's flesh. 

The answer of Bart was a yelp too sharp and too highly pitched to havecome from the throat of any mere dog. Once more he darted out and ranhere and there, and Doctor Byrne heard the beast moaning as it ran. ThenBart ceased circling and cut down the slope away from the hill at asharp trot. 

A cry of inarticulate joy burst from Dan, and then: "You've found it!You have it!" and the master ran swiftly after the dog. He followed thelatter only for a short distance down the slope and then stood stilland whistled. He had to repeat the call before the dog turned and ranback to his master, where he whined eagerly about the man's feet. Therewas something uncanny and horrible about it; it was as if the dumb beastwas asking for a life, and the life of a man. The doctor turned back andwalked thoughtfully to the house. 

At the door he was met by Kate and a burst of eager questions, and hetold, simply, all that he had seen. 

"You'll get the details from Mr. Barry, " he concluded. 

"I know the details, " answered the girl. "He's found the trail and heknows where it points, now. And he'll want to be following it beforemany hours have passed. Doctor Byrne, I need you now--terribly. You mustconvince Dan that if he leaves us it will be a positive danger to Dad. Can you do that?"

"At least, " said the doctor, "there will be little deception in that. Iwill do what I can to persuade him to stay. "

"Then, " she said hurriedly, "sit here, and I shall sit here. We'll meetDan together when he comes in. "

They had hardly taken their places when Barry entered, the wolf at hisheels; at the door he paused to flash a glance at them and then crossedthe room. On the farther side he stopped again. 

"I might be tellin' you, " he said in his soft voice, "that now's Bart'swell I got to be travellin' again. I start in the morning. "

The pleading eyes of Kate raised Byrne to his feet. 

"My dear Mr. Barry!" he called. The other turned again and waited. "Doyou mean that you will leave us while Mr. Cumberland is in this criticalcondition?"

A shadow crossed the face of Barry. 

"I'd stay if I could, " he answered. "But it ain't possible!"

"What takes you away is your affair, sir, " said the doctor. "My concernis Mr. Cumberland. He is in a very precarious condition. The slightestnerve shock may have--fatal--results. "

Dan Barry sighed. 

"Seemed to me, " he answered, "that he was buckin' up considerable. Don'tlook so thin, doc. "

"His body may be well enough, " said the doctor calmly, "but his nervesare wrecked. I am afraid to prophesy the consequences if you leave him. "

It was apparent that a great struggle was going on in Barry. He answeredat length: "How long would I have to stay? One rain could wipe out allthe sign and make me like a blind man in the desert. Doc, how long wouldI have to stay?"

"A few days, " answered Byrne, "may work wonders with him. "

The other hesitated. 

"I'll go up and talk with him, " he said, "and what he wants I'll do. "

CHAPTER XXIX

TALK

He was long in getting his answer. The hours dragged on slowly for Kateand the doctor, for if Joe Cumberland could hold Dan it was everythingto the girl, and if Barry left at once there might be some root for thehope which was growing stronger and stronger every day in the heart ofRandall Byrne. Before evening a not unwelcome diversion broke thesuspense somewhat. 

It was the arrival of no less a person than Marshal Jeff Calkins. Hisshoulders were humped and his short legs bowed from continual riding, and his head was slung far forward on a gaunt neck; so that when heturned his head from one to another in speaking it was with a peculiarpendulum motion. The marshal had a reputation which was strong overthree hundred miles and more of a mountain-desert. This was strange, forthe marshal was a very talkative man, and talkative men are not popularon the desert; but it has been discovered that on occasion his six-guncould speak as rapidly and much more accurately than his tongue. SoMarshal Calkins waxed in favour. 

He set the household at ease upon his arrival by announcing that "theyhadn't nothin' for him there. " All he wanted was a place to bunk in, some chow, and a feed for the horse. His trail led past the CumberlandRanch many and many a dreary mile. 

The marshal was a politic man, and he had early in life discovered thatthe best way to get along with any man was to meet him on his ownground. His opening blast of words at Doctor Byrne was a sample of hisart. 

"So you're a doc, hey? Well, sir, when I was a kid I had a colt thatstuck its foreleg in a hole and busted it short and when that colt hadto be shot they wasn't no holdin' me. No, sir, I could of cleaned up onthe whole family. And ever since then I've had a hankerin' to be a doc. Something about the idea of cuttin' into a man that always sort oftickled me. They's only one main thing that holds me back--I don't likethe idea of knifin' a feller when he ain't got a chance to fight back!That's me!"

To this Doctor Randall Byrne bowed, rather dazed, but returned noanswer. 

"And how's your patient, doc?" pursued the irresistible marshal. "How'sold Joe Cumberland? I remember when me and Joe used to trot about therange together. I was sort of a kid then; but think of old Joe bein'down in bed--sick! Why, I ain't never been sick a day in my life. Sick?I'd laugh myse'f plumb to death if anybody ever wanted me to go to bed. What's the matter with him, anyway?"

"His nerves are a bit shaken about, " responded the doctor. "To which Imight add that there is superimposed an arterial condition----"

"Cut it short, Doc, " cried the marshal goodnaturedly. "I ain't got adictionary handy. Nerves bad, eh? Well, I don't wonder about that. Theold man's had enough trouble lately to make anybody nervous. I wouldn'tlike to go through it myself. No, sir! What with that Dan Barry--I ain'tsteppin' on any corns, Kate, am I?"

She smiled vaguely, but the marshal accepted the smile as a strongdissent. 

"They was a time not so long ago when folks said that you was kind ofsweet on Dan. Glad to hear they ain't nothin' in it. 'S a matter offact----"

But here Kate interrupted with a raised hand. She said: "I think thatwas the supper gong. Yes, there it is. We'll go in now, if you wish. "

"They's only one sound in the world that's better to me than a dinnergong, " said the profuse marshal, as they seated themselves around thebig dining table, "and that was the sound of my wife's voice when shesaid 'I will. ' Queer thing, too. Maria ain't got a very soft voice, mostgenerally speakin', but when she busted up in front of that preacher andsays 'I will, ' why, God A'mighty--askin' your pardon, Kate--they was achange come in her voice that was like a bell chimin' down in herthroat--a bell ringin' away off far, you know, so's you only kind ofguess at it! But comin' back to you and Dan, Kate----"

It was in vain she plied the marshal with edibles. His tongue waggedupon roller-bearings and knew no stopping. Moreover, the marshal hadspent some portion of his life in a boarding house and had mastered theboarding-house art of talking while he ate. 

"Comin' back to you and Dan, we was all of us sayin' that you and Dankind of had an eye for each other. I s'pose we was all wrong. You see, that was back in the days before Dan busted loose. When he was about therange most usually he was the quietest man I ever sat opposite tobarrin' one--and that was a feller that went west with a bum heart atthe chuck table! Ha, ha, ha!" The marshal's laughter boomed through thebig room as he recalled this delightful anecdote. He went on: "But afterthat Jim Silent play we all changed our minds, some. D'you know, doc, Iwas in Elkhead the night that Dan got our Lee Haines?"

"I've never heard of the episode, " murmured the doctor. 

"You ain't? Well, I be damned!--askin' your pardon, Kate----But yousure ain't lived in these parts long! Which you wouldn't think one mancould ride into a whole town, go to the jail, knock out two guards thatwas proved men, take the keys, unlock the irons off'n the man he wanted, saddle a hoss, and ride through a whole town--full of folks that wasshootin' at him. Now, would you think that was possible?"

"Certainly not. "

"And it _ain't_ possible, I'm here to state. But they was somethingdifferent about Dan Barry. D'you ever notice it, Kate?"

She was far past speech. 

"No, I guess you never would have noticed it. You was livin' too closeto him all the time to see how different he was from other fellers. Anyway, he done it. They say he got plugged while he was ridin' throughthe lines and he bled all the way home, and he got there unconscious. Isthat right, Kate?"

He waited an instant and then accepted the silence as an affirmative. 

"Funny thing about that, too. The place where he come to was BuckDaniels' house. Well, Buck was one of Jim Silent's men, and they sayBuck had tried to plug Dan before that. But Dan let him go that time, and when Buck seen Dan ride in all covered with blood he remembered thatfavour and he kept Dan safe from Jim Silent and safe from the law untilDan was well. I seen Buck this morning over to Rafferty's place, and----"

Here the marshal noted a singular look in the eyes of Kate Cumberland, alook so singular that he turned in his chair to follow it. He saw DanBarry in the act of closing the door behind him, and Marshal Calkinsturned a deep and violent red, varied instantly by a blotchy yellowwhich in turn faded to something as near white as his tan permitted. 

"Dan Barry!" gasped the marshal, rising, and he reached automaticallytowards his hip before he remembered that he had laid his belt and gunsaside before he entered the dining-room, as etiquette is in themountain-desert. For it is held that shooting at the table disturbs theappetite. 

"Good evenin', " said Dan quietly. "Was it Buck Daniels that you seen atRafferty's place, Marshal Calkins?"

"Him, " nodded the marshal, hoarsely. "Yep, Buck Daniels. "

And then he sank into his chair, silent for the first time. His eyesfollowed Barry as though hypnotized. 

"I'm kind of glad to know where I can find him, " said Barry, and tookhis place at the table. 

The silence continued for a while, with all eyes focused on thenew-comer. It was the doctor who had to speak first. 

"You've talked things over with Mr. Cumberland?" he asked. 

"We had a long talk, " nodded Dan. "You was wrong about him, doc. Hethinks he can do without me. "

"What?" cried Kate. 

"He thinks he can do without me, " said Dan Barry. "We talked it allover. "

The silence fell again. Kate Cumberland was staring blankly down at herplate, seeing nothing; and Doctor Byrne looked straight before him andfelt the pulse drumming in his throat. His chance, then, was to come. Bythis time the marshal had recovered his breath. 

He said to Dan: "Seems like you been away some time, Dan. Where you beenhangin' out?"

"I been ridin' about, " answered Dan vaguely. 

"Well, " chuckled the marshal, "I'm glad they ain't no more Jim Silentsabout these parts--not while you're here and while I'm here. You keptthings kind of busy for Glasgow, Dan. "

He turned to Kate, who had pushed back her chair. 

"What's the matter, Kate?" he boomed. "You ain't lookin' any tootip-top. Sick?"

"I may be back in a moment, " said the girl, "but don't delay supper forme. "

She went out of the room with a step poised well enough, but the momentthe door closed behind her she fairly staggered to the nearest chair andsank into it, her head fallen back, her eyes dim, and all the strengthgone from her body and her will. Several minutes passed before sheroused herself, and then it was to drag herself slowly up the stairs tothe door of her father's room. She opened it without knocking, and thenclosed it and stood with her back against it, in the shadow. 

CHAPTER XXX

THE VOICE OF BLACK BART

Her father lay propped high with pillows among which his head lolledback. The only light in the room was near the bed and it cast a glowupon the face of Joe Cumberland and on the white linen, the white hair, the white, pointed beard. All the rest of the room swam in darkness. Thechairs were blotches, indistinct, uncertain; even the foot of the bedtrailed off to nothingness. It was like one of those impressionistic, very modern paintings, where the artist centres upon one point andthrows the rest of his canvas into dull oblivion. The focus here was theface of the old cattleman. The bedclothes, never stirred, lay in foldssharply cut out with black shadows, and they had a solid seeming, as themort-cloth rendered in marble over the effigy. That suggested weightexaggerated the frailty of the body beneath the clothes. Exhausted bythat burden, the old man lay in the arms of a deadly languor, so thatthere was a kinship of more than blood between him and Kate at thismoment. She stepped to the side of the bed and stood staring down athim, and there was little gentleness in her expression. So cold wasthat settled gaze that her father stirred, at length, shivered, andwithout opening his eyes, fumbled at the bed-spread and drew it a littlemore closely about his shoulders. Even that did not give him rest; andpresently the wrinkled eyelids opened and he looked up at his daughter. A film of weariness heavier than sleep at first obscured his sight, butthis in turn cleared away; he frowned a little to clear his vision, andthen wagged his head slowly from side to side. 

"Kate, " he said feebly, "I done my best. It simply wasn't good enough. "

She answered in a voice as low as his, but steadier: "What could havehappened? Dad, what happened to make you give up every hold on Dan? Whatwas it? You were the last power that could keep him here. You knew it. Why did you tell him he could go?"

The monotone was more deadly than any emphasis of a raised word. 

"If you'd been here, " pleaded Joe Cumberland, "you'd have done what Idone. I couldn't help it. There he sat on the foot of the bed--see wherethem covers still kind of sag down--after he told me that he hadsomething to do away from the ranch and that he wanted to go now thatBlack Bart was well enough to travel in short spells. He asked me if Istill needed him. "

"And you told him no?" she cried. "Oh Dad, you know it means everythingto me--but you told him no?" He raised a shaking hand to ward off theoutburst and stop it. 

"Not at first, honey. Gimme a chance to talk, Kate. At first I told himthat I needed him--and God knows that I _do_ need him. I dunno why--noteven Doc Byrne knows what there is about Dan that helps me. I told Danall them things. And he didn't say nothin', but jest sat still on thefoot of the bed and looked at me. 

"It ain't easy to bear his eyes, Kate. I lay here and tried at first tosmile at him and talk about other things--but it ain't easy to bear hiseyes. You take a dog, Kate. It ain't supposed to be able to look you inthe eye for long; but s'pose you met up with a dog that could. It'd makeyou feel sort of queer inside. Which I felt that way while Dan waslookin' at me. Not that he was threatenin' me. No, it wasn't that. Hewas only thoughtful, but I kept gettin' more nervous and more fidgety. Ifelt after a while like I couldn't stand it. I had to crawl out of bedand begin walkin' up and down till I got quieter. But I seen thatwouldn't do. 

"Then I begun to think. I thought of near everything in a little while. I thought of what would happen s'pose Dan should stay here. Maybe youand him would get to like each other again. Maybe you'd get married. Then what would happen?

"I thought of the wild geese flyin' north in the spring o' the year andthe wild geese flyin' south in the fall o' the year. And I thought ofDan with his heart followin' the wild geese--God knows why!--and I seena picture of him standin' and watchin' them, with you nearby and notable to get one look out of him. I seen that, and it made my bloodchilly, like the air on a frosty night. 

"Kate, they's something like the power of prophecy that comes to a dyin'man!"

"Dad!" she cried. "What are you saying?"

She slipped to her knees beside the bed and drew his cold hands towardsher, but Joe Cumberland shook his head and mildly drew one hand away. Heraised it, with extended forefinger--a sign of infinite warning; andwith the glow of the lamp full upon his face, the eyes were pits ofshadow with stirring orbs of fire in the depths. 

"No, I ain't dead now, " he said, "but I ain't far away from it. Maybedays, maybe weeks, maybe whole months. But I've passed the top of thehill, and I know I'm ridin' down the slope. Pretty soon I'll finish thetrail. But what little time I've got left is worth more'n everythingthat went before. I can see my life behind me and the things before likea cold mornin' light was over it all--you know before the sun begins tobeat up the waves of heat and the mist gets tanglin' in front of youreyes? You know when you can look right across a thirty mile valley andname the trees, a'most the other side? That's the way I can see now. They ain't no feelin' about it. My body is all plumb paralyzed. I jestsee and know--that's all. 

"And what I see of you and Dan--if you ever marry--is plain--hell! Loveain't the only thing they is between a man and a woman. They's somethingelse. I dunno what it is. But it's a sort of a common purpose; it'shavin' both pairs of feet steppin' out on the same path. That's what itis. But your trail would go one way and Dan's would go another, andpretty soon your love wouldn't be nothin' but a big wind blowin' betweentwo mountains--and all it would do would be to freeze up the blood inyour hearts. "

"I seen all that, while Dan was sittin' at the foot of the bed. Not thatI don't want him here. When I see him I see the world the way it waswhen I was under thirty. When there wasn't nothin' I wouldn't try once, when all I wanted was a gun and a hoss and a song to keep me fromtradin' with kings. No, it ain't goin' to be easy for me when Dan goesaway. But what's my tag-end of life compared with yours? You got to begiven a chance; you got to be kept away from Dan. That's why I told him, finally, that I thought I could get along without him. "

"Whether or not you save me, " she answered, "you signed a death warrantfor at least two men when you told him that. "

"Two men? They's only one he's after--and Buck Daniel has had a longstart. He can't be caught!"

"That Marshal Calkins is here to-night. He saw Buck at Rafferty's, andhe talked about it in the hearing of Dan at the table. I watched Dan'sface. You may read the past and see the future, Dad, but I know Dan'sface. I can read it as the sailor reads the sea. Before to-morrow nightBuck Daniels will be dead; and Dan's hands will be red. "

She dropped her head against the bedclothes and clasped her fingers overthe bright hair. 

When she could speak again she raised her head and went on in the sameswift, low monotone: "And besides, Black Bart has found the trail of theman who fired the barn and shot him. And the body of Buck won't be coldbefore Dan will be on the heels of the other man. Oh, Dad, two lives layin the hollow of your hand. You could have saved them by merely askingDan to stay with you; but you've thrown them away. "

"Buck Daniels!" repeated the old man, the horror of the thing dawning onhim only slowly. "Why didn't he get farther away? Why didn't he ridenight and day after he left us? He's got to be warned that Dan iscoming!"

"I've thought of that. I'm going into my room now to write a note andsend it to Buck by one of our men. But at the most he'll have less thana day's start--and what is a day to Satan and Dan Barry?"

"I thought it was for the best, " muttered old Joe. "I couldn't see howit was wrong. But I can send for Dan and tell him that I've changed mymind. " He broke off in a groan. "No, that wouldn't be no good. He's sethis mind on going by this time, and nothing can keep him back. But--Kate, maybe I can delay him. Has he gone up to his room yet?"

"He's in there now. Talk softly or he'll hear us. He's walking up anddown, now. "

"Ay, ay, ay!" nodded old Joe, his eyes widening with horror, "and hisfootfall is like the padding of a big cat. I could tell it out of athousand steps. And I know what's going on inside his mind!"

"Yes, yes; he's thinking of the blow Buck Daniels struck him; he'sthinking of the man who shot down Bart. God save them both!"

"Listen!" whispered the cattleman. "He's raised the window. I heard therattle of the weights. He's standing there in front of the window, letting the wind of the night blow in his face!"

The wind from the window, indeed, struck against the door communicatingwith Joe Cumberland's room, and shook it as if a hand were rattling atthe knob. 

The girl began to speak again, as swiftly as before, her voice thebarely audible rushing of a whisper: "The law will trail him, but Iwon't give him up. Dad, I'm going to fight once more to keep himhere--and if I fail, I'll follow him around the world. " Such wordsshould have come loudly, ringing. Spoken so softly, they gave a terribleeffect; like the ravings of delirium, or the monotone of insanity. Andwith the white light against her face she was more awe-inspiring thanbeautiful. "He loved me once; and the fire must still be in him; suchfire _can't_ go out, and I'll fan it back to life, and then if it burnsme--if it burns us both--the fire itself cannot be more torture than tolive on like this!"

"Hush, lass!" murmured her father. "Listen to what's coming!"

It was a moan, very low pitched, and then rising slowly, and gaining involume, rising up the scale with a dizzy speed, till it burst and rangthrough the house--the long-drawn wail of a wolf when it hunts on afresh trail. 

CHAPTER XXXI

THE MESSAGE

Buck Daniels opened his eyes and sat bolt-upright in bed. He had dreamedthe dream again, and this time, as always, he awakened before the end. He needed no rubbing of eyes to rouse his senses. If a shower of coldwater had been dashed upon him he could not have rallied from soundslumber so suddenly. His first movement was to snatch his gun from underhis mattress, not that he dreamed of needing it, but for some reason thepressure of the butt against his palm was reassuring. It was better thanthe grip of his friend--a strong man. 

It was the first grey of dawn, a light so feeble that it served merelyto illuminate the darkness, so to speak. It fell with any power upon onething alone, the bit of an old, dusty bridle that hung against the wall, and it made the steel glitter like a watchful eye. There was a greatdryness in the throat of Buck Daniels; and his whole big body shook withthe pounding of his heart. 

He was not the only thing that was awake in the grey hour. For now hecaught a faint and regular creaking of the stairs. Someone was mountingwith an excessively cautious and patient step, for usually the crazystairs that led up to this garret room of the Rafferty house creaked andgroaned a protest at every footfall. Now the footfall paused at the headof the stairs, as when one stops to listen. 

Buck Daniels raised his revolver and levelled it on the door; but hishand was shaking so terribly that he could not keep his aim--the muzzlekept veering back and forth across the door. He seized his right handwith his left, and crushed it with a desperate pressure. Then it wasbetter. The quivering of the two hands counteracted each other and hemanaged to keep some sort of a bead. 

Now the step continued again, down the short hall. A hand fell on theknob of the door and pressed it slowly open. Against the deeperblackness of the hall beyond, Buck saw a tall figure, hatless. Hisfinger curved about the trigger, and still he did not fire. Even to hishysterical brain it occurred that Dan Barry would be wearing a hat--andmoreover the form was tall. 

"Buck!" called a guarded voice. 

The muzzle of Daniels' revolver dropped; he threw the gun on his bed andstood up. 

"Jim Rafferty!" he cried, with something like a groan in his voice. "What in the name of God are you doin' here at this hour?"

"Someone come here and banged on the door a while ago. Had a letter foryou. Must have rid a long ways and come fast; while he was givin' methe letter at the door I heard his hoss pantin' outside. He wouldn'tstay, but went right back. Here's the letter, Buck. Hope it ain't no badnews. Got a light here, ain't you?"

"All right, Jim, " answered Buck Daniels, taking the letter. "I got alantern. You get back to bed. "

The other replied with a noisy yawn and left the room while Buck kindledthe lantern. By that light he read his name upon the envelope and toreit open. It was very brief. 

 "Dear Buck, Last night at supper Dan found out where you are. In the morning he's leaving the ranch and we know that he intends to ride for Rafferty's place; he'll probably be there before noon. The moment you get this, saddle your horse and ride. Oh, Buck, why did you stay so close to us?

 Relay your horses. Don't stop until you're over the mountains. Black Bart is well enough to take the trail and Dan will use him to follow you. You know what that means. 

 Ride, ride, ride!

 Kate. "

He crumpled up the paper and sank back upon the bed. 

"Why did you stay so close?"

He had wondered at that, himself, many times in the past few days. Likethe hunted rabbit, he expected to find safety under the very nose ofdanger. Now that he was discovered it seemed incredible that he couldhave followed so patently foolish a course. In a sort of daze heuncrumpled the note again and read the wrinkled writing word by word. Hehad leaned close to read by the uncertain light, and now he caught thefaintest breath of perfume from the paper. It was a small thing, smalleramong scents than a whisper is among voices, but it made Buck Danielsdrop his head and crush the paper against his face. It was a momentbefore he could uncrumple the paper sufficiently to study the contentsof the note thoroughly. At first his dazed brain caught only part of thesignificance. Then it dawned on him that the girl thought he had fledfrom the Cumberland Ranch through fear of Dan Barry. 

Ay, there had been fear in it. Every day at the ranch he had shudderedat the thought that the destroyer might ride up on that devil of blacksilken grace, Satan. But every day he had convinced himself that eventhen Dan Barry remembered the past and was cursing himself for theingratitude he had shown his old friend. Now the truth swept coldly hometo Buck Daniels. Barry was as fierce as ever upon the trail; and KateCumberland thought that he--Buck Daniels, --had fled like a cur fromdanger. 

He seized his head between his hands and beat his knuckles against thecorrugated flesh of his forehead. She had thought that!

Desire for action, action, action, beset him like thirst. To close withthis devil, this wolf-man, to set his big fingers in the smooth, almostgirlish throat, to choke the yellow light out of those eyes--or else todie, but like a man proving his manhood before the girl. 

He read the letter again and then in an agony he crumpled it to a balland hurled it across the room. Catching up his hat and his belt herushed wildly from the room, thundered down the crazy stairs, and out tothe stable. 

Long Bess, the tall, bay mare which had carried him through three yearsof adventure and danger and never failed him yet, raised heraristocratic head above the side of the stall and whinnied. For answerhe shook his fist at her and cursed insanely. 

The saddle he jerked by one stirrup leather from the wall and flung iton her back, and when she cringed to the far side of the stall, hecursed her again, bitterly, and drew up the cinch with a lunge that madeher groan. He did not wait to lead her to the door before mounting, butsprang into the saddle. 

Here he whirled her about and drove home the spurs. Cruel usage, forLong Bess had never denied him the utmost of her speed and strength atthe mere sound of his voice. Now, half-mad with fear and surprise, shesprang forward at full gallop, slipped and almost sprawled on the floor, and then thundered out of the door. 

At once the soft sandy-soil received and deadened the impact of herhoofs. Off she flew through the grey of the morning, soundless as aracing ghost. 

Long Bess--there was good blood in her. She was as delicately limbed asan antelope, and her heart was as strong as the smooth muscles of hershoulders and hips. Yet to Buck Daniels her fastest gait seemed slowerthan a walk. Already his thoughts were flying far before. Already hestood before the ranch house calling to Dan Barry. Ay, at the very doorof the place they should meet and one of them must die. And better byfar that the blood of him who died should stain the hands of KateCumberland. 

CHAPTER XXXII

VICTORY

The grey light which Buck Daniels saw that morning, hardly brightened asthe day grew, for the sky was overcast with sheeted mist and through ita dull evening radiance filtered to the earth. Wung Lu, his celestial, slant eyes now yellow with cold, built a fire on the big hearth in theliving-room. It was a roaring blaze, for the wood was so dry that itflamed as though soaked in oil, and tumbled a mass of yellow fire up thechimney. So bright was the fire, indeed, that its light quiteover-shadowed the meagre day which looked in at the window, and everychair cast its shadow away from the hearth. Later on Kate Cumberlandcame down the backstairs and slipped into the kitchen. 

"Have you seen Dan?" she asked of the cook. 

"Wung Lu make nice fire, " grinned the Chinaman. "Misser Dan in there. "

She thought for an instant. 

"Is breakfast ready, Wung?"

"Pretty soon quick, " nodded Wung Lu. 

"Then throw out the coffee or the eggs, " she said quickly. "I don't wantbreakfast served yet; wait till I send you word. "

As the door closed behind her, the eye-brows of Wung rose into perfectRoman arches. 

"Ho!" grunted Wung Lu, "O ho!"

In the hall Kate met Randall Byrne coming down the stairs. He wasdressed in white and he had found a little yellow wildflower and stuckit in his button-hole. He seemed ten years younger than the day he rodewith her to the ranch, and now he came to her with a quick step, smiling. 

"Doctor Byrne, " she said quietly, "breakfast will be late this morning. Also, I want no one to go into the living-room for a while. Will youkeep them out?"

The doctor was instantly gone. 

"He hasn't gone, yet?" he queried. 

"Not yet. "

The doctor sighed and then, apparently following a sudden impulse, hereached his hand to her. 

"I hope something comes of it, " he said. 

Even then she could not help a wan smile. 

"What do you mean by that, doctor?"

The doctor sighed again. 

"If the inference is not clear, " he said, "I'm afraid that I cannotexplain. But I'll try to keep everyone from the room. "

She nodded her thanks, and went on; but passing the mirror in the hallthe sight of her face made her stop abruptly. There was no vestige ofcolour in it; and the shadow beneath her eyes made them seem inhumanlylarge and deep. The bright hair, to be sure, waved over her head andcoiled on her neck, but it was like a futile shaft of sunlight fallingon a dreary moor in winter. She went on thoughtfully to the door of theliving-room but there she paused again with her hand upon the knob; andwhile she stood there she remembered herself as she had been only a fewmonths before, with the colour flushing in her face and a continuallight in her eyes. There had been little need for thinking then. One hadonly to let the wind and the sun strike on one, and live. Then, in aquiet despair, she said to herself: "As I am--I must win or lose--as Iam!" and she opened the door and stepped in. 

She had been cold with fear and excitement when she entered the room tomake her last stand for happiness, but once she was in, it was not sohard. Dan Barry lay on the couch at the far end of the room with hishands thrown under his head, and he was smiling in a way which she wellknew; it had been a danger signal in the old days, and when he turnedhis face and said good-morning to her, she caught that singular glimmerof yellow which sometimes came up behind his eyes. In reply to hisgreeting she merely nodded, and then walked slowly to the window andturned her back to him. 

It was a one-tone landscape. Sky, hills, barns, earth, all was a singlemass of lifeless grey; in such an atmosphere old Homer had seen thewraiths of his dead heroes play again at the things they had done onearth. She noted these things with a blank eye, for a thousand thoughtswere leaping through her mind. Something must be done. There he lay inthe same room with her. He had turned his head back, no doubt, and wasstaring at the ceiling as before, and the yellow glimmer was in his eyesagain. Perhaps, after this day, she should never see him again; everymoment was precious beyond the price of gold, and yet there she stood atthe window, doing nothing. But what _could_ she do?

Should she go to him and fall on her knees beside him and pour out herheart, telling him again of the old days. No, it would be like strikingon a wooden bell; no echo would rise; and she knew beforehand the deadlyblackness of his eyes. So Black Bart lay often in the sun, staring atinfinite distance and seeing nothing but his dreams of battle. What wereappeals and what were words to Black Bart? What were they to Dan Barry?Yet once, by sitting still--the thought made her blood leap with agreat, joyous pulse that set her cheeks tingling. 

She waited till the first impulse of excitement had subsided, and thenturned back and sat down in a chair near the fire. From a corner of hereye she was aware that Whistling Dan had turned his head again to awaither first speech. Then she fixed her gaze on the wall of yellow flame. The impulse to speak to him was like a hand tugging to turn her around, and the words came up and swelled in her throat, but still she would notstir. 

In a moment of rationality she felt in an overwhelming wave of mentalcoldness the folly of her course, but she shut out the thought with aslight shudder. Silence, to Dan Barry, had a louder voice and moremeaning than any words. 

Then she knew that he was sitting up on the couch. Was he about to standup and walk out of the room? For moment after moment he did not stir;and at length she knew, with a breathless certainty, that he was staringfixedly at her! The hand which was farthest from him, and hidden, shegripped hard upon the arm of the chair. That was some comfort, someadded strength. 

She had now the same emotion she had had when Black Bart slunk towardsher under the tree--if a single perceptible tremor shook her, if sheshowed the slightest awareness of the subtle approach, she was undone. It was only her apparent unconsciousness which could draw either thewolf-dog or the master. 

She remembered what her father had told her of hunting young deer--howhe had lain in the grass and thrust up a leg above the grass in sight ofthe deer and how they would first run away but finally come back step bystep, drawn by an invincible curiosity, until at length they were withinrange for a point blank shot. 

Now she must concentrate on the flames of the fireplace, see nothing butthem, think of nothing but the swiftly changing domes and walls andpinnacles they made. She leaned a little forward and rested her cheekupon her right hand--and thereby she shut out the sight of Dan Barryeffectually. Also it made a brace to keep her from turning her headtowards him, and she needed every support, physical and mental. 

Still he did not move. Was he in truth looking at her, or was he staringbeyond her at the grey sky which lowered past the window? The faintestcreaking sound told her that he had risen, slowly, from the crouch. Thennot a sound, except that she knew, in some mysterious manner, that hemoved, but whether towards her or towards the door she could not dream. But he stepped suddenly and noiselessly into the range of her vision andsat down on a low bench at one side of the hearth. If the strain hadbeen tense before, it now became terrible; for there he sat almostfacing her, and looking intently at her, yet she must keep all awarenessof him out of her eyes. In the excitement a strong pulse began to beatin the hollow of her throat, as if her heart were rising. She had won, she had kept him in the room, she had brought him to a keen thought ofher. A Pyrrhic victory, for she was poised on the very edge of a cliffof hysteria. She began to feel a tremor of the hand which supported hercheek. If that should become visible to him he would instantly know thatall her apparent unconsciousness was a sham, and then she would havelost him truly!

Something sounded at one of the doors--and then the door opened softly. She was almost glad of the interruption, for another instant might haveswept away the last reserve of her strength. So this, then, was the end. 

But the footfall which sounded in the apartment was a soft, paddingstep, with a little scratching sound, light as a finger running on afrosty window pane. And then a long, shaggy head slipped close toWhistling Dan. It was Black Bart!

A wave of terror swept through her. She remembered another scene, notmany months before, when Black Bart had drawn his master away from herand led him south, south, after the wild geese. The wolf-dog had comeagain like a demoniac spirit to undo her plans!

Only an instant--the crisis of a battle--then the great beast turnedslowly, faced her, slunk with his long stride closer, and then a coldnose touched the hand which gripped the arm of her chair. It gave her awelcome excuse for action of some sort; she reached out her hand, slowly, and touched the forehead of Black Bart. He winced back, and thelong fangs flashed; her hand remained tremulously poised in air, andthen the long head approached again, cautiously, and once more shetouched it, and since it did not stir, she trailed the tips of herfingers backwards towards the ears. Black Bart snarled again, but it wasa sound so subdued as to be almost like the purring of a great cat. Hesank down, and the weight of his head came upon her feet. Victory!

In the full tide of conscious power she was able to drop her hand fromher face, raise her head, turn her glance carelessly upon Dan Barry; shewas met by ominously glowing eyes. Anger--at least it was notindifference. 

He rose and stepped in his noiseless way behind her, but he reappearedinstantly on the other side, and reached out his hand to where herfingers trailed limp from the arm of the chair. There he let them lie, white and cool, against the darkness of his palm. It was as if he soughtin the hand for the secret of her power over the wolf-dog. She let herhead rest against the back of the chair and watched the nervous andsinewy hand upon which her own rested. She had seen those hands fixed inthe throat of Black Bart himself, once upon a time. A grim simile cameto her; the tips of her fingers touched the paw of the panther. Thesteel-sharp claws were sheathed, but suppose once they were bared, andclutched. Or she stood touching a switch which might loose, by theslightest motion, a terrific voltage. What would happen?

Nothing! Presently the hand released her fingers, and Dan Barry steppedback and stood with folded arms, frowning at the fire. In the weaknesswhich overcame her, in the grip of the wild excitement, she dared notstay near him longer. She rose and walked into the dining-room. 

"Serve breakfast now, Wung, " she commanded, and at once the gong wasstruck by the cook. 

Before the long vibrations had died away the guests were gathered aroundthe table, and the noisy marshal was the first to come. He slammed backa chair and sat down with a grunt of expectancy. 

"Mornin', Dan, " he said, whetting his knife across the table-cloth, "Ihear you're ridin' this mornin'? Ain't going my way, are you?"

Dan Barry sat frowning steadily down at the table. It was a momentbefore he answered. 

"I ain't leavin, " he said softly, at length, "postponed my trip. "

CHAPTER XXXIII

DOCTOR BYRNE SHOWS THE TRUTH

On this day of low-lying mists, this day so dull that not a shadow wascast by tree or house or man, there was no graver place than the room ofold Joe Cumberland; even lamp light was more merciful in the room, forit left the corners of the big apartment in obscurity, but this meagredaylight stripped away all illusion and left the room naked and ugly. Those colours of wall and carpet, once brighter than spring, showed nowas faded and lifeless as foliage in the dead days of late November whenthe leaves have no life except what keeps them clinging to the twig, andwhen their fallen fellows are lifted and rustled on the ground by everyfaint wind, with a sound like breathing in the forest. And like autumn, too, was the face of Joe Cumberland, with a colour neither flushed norpale, but a dull sallow which foretells death. Beside his bed sat DoctorRandall Byrne and kept the pressure of two fingers upon the wrist of therancher. 

When he removed the thermometer from between the lips of Cumberland theold man spoke, but without lifting his closed eyelids, as if even thiswere an effort which he could only accomplish by a great concentrationof the will. 

"No fever to-day, doc?"

"You feel a little better?" asked Byrne. 

"They ain't no feelin'. But I ain't hot; jest sort of middlin' cold. "

Doctor Byrne glanced down at the thermometer with a frown, and thenshook down the mercury. 

"No, " he admitted, "there is no fever. "

Joe Cumberland opened his eyes a trifle and peered up at Byrne. 

"You ain't satisfied, doc?"

Doctor Randall Byrne was of that merciless modern school which believesin acquainting the patient with the truth. 

"I am not, " he said. 

"H-m-m!" murmured the sick man. "And what might be wrong?"

"Your pulse is uneven and weak, " said the doctor. 

"I been feelin' sort of weak since I seen Dan last night, " admitted theother. "But that news Kate brought me will bring me up! She's kept himhere, lad, think of that!"

"I am thinking of it, " answered the doctor coldly. "Your last interviewwith him nearly--killed you. If you see him again I shall wash my handsof the case. When he first came you felt better at once--in fact, Iadmit that you _seemed_ to do better both in body and mind. But thething could not last. It was a false stimulus, and when the firsteffects had passed away, it left you in this condition. Mr. Cumberland, you must see him no more!"

But Joe Cumberland laughed long and softly. 

"Life, " he murmured, "ain't worth that much! Not half!"

"I can do no more than advise, " said the doctor, as reserved as before. "I cannot command. "

"A bit peeved, doc?" queried the old man. "Well, sir, I know they ain'tmuch longer for me. Lord, man, I can feel myself going out like a flamein a lamp when the oil runs up. I can feel life jest makin' its last fewjumps in me like the flame up the chimney. But listen to me----" hereached out a long, large knuckled, claw-like hand and drew the doctordown over him, and his eyes were earnest--"I got to live till I see 'emstandin' here beside me, hand in hand, doc!"

The doctor, even by that dim light, had changed colour. He passed hishand slowly across his forehead. 

"You expect to see that?"

"I expect nothin'. I only hope!"

The bitterness of Byrne's heart came up in his throat. 

"It will be an oddly suited match, " he said, "if they marry. But theywill not marry. "

"Ha!" cried Cumberland, and starting up in bed he braced himself on aquaking elbow. "What's that?"

"Lie down!" ordered the doctor, and pressed the ranchman back againstthe pillows. 

"But what d'you mean?"

"It would be a long story--the scientific explanation. "

"Doc, where Dan is concerned I got more patience than Job. "

"In brief, then, I will prove to you that there is no mystery in thisDaniel Barry. "

"If you can do that, doc, you're more of a man than I been guessing youfor. Start now!"

"In primitive times, " said Doctor Randall Byrne, "man was nearly relatedto what we now call the lower animals. In those days he could notsurround himself with an artificial protective environment. He dependedon the unassisted strength of his body. His muscular and sensuousdevelopment, therefore, was far in advance of that of the modern man. For modern man has used his mind at the expense of his body. The very_quality_ of his muscles is altered; and the senses of sight andhearing, for instance, are much blunted. For in the primitive days theear kept guard over man even when he slept in terror of a thousanddeadly enemies, each stronger than he; and the eye had to be keenlyattuned to probe the shadows of the forest for lurking foes. 

"Now, sir, there is in biology the thing known, as the sport. You willhave heard that all living organisms undergo gradual processes ofchange. Season by season and year by year, environment affects theindividual; yet these gradual changes are extremely slow. Between stepsof noticeable change there elapse periods many times longer than thelife of historic man. All speed in changes such as these comes in whatwe call 'sports'. That is, a particular plant, for instance, graduallytends to have fewer leaves and a thicker bark, but the change is slightfrom age to age until suddenly a single instance occurs of plant whichrealises suddenly in a single step the 'ideal' towards which the specieshas been striving. In a word, it has very, very few leaves, and anextraordinarily thick bark. 

"For a particular instance, one species of orange tended to have few andfewer seeds. But finally came an orange tree whose fruit had no seeds atall. That was the origin of the navel orange. And that was a typical'sport'. 

"Now, there is the reverse of the sport. Instead of jumping longdistance ahead, an individual may lapse back towards the primitive. Thatindividual is called an atavism. For instance, in this mountain-desertthere has, for several generations, been a pressure of environmentcalling for a species of man which will be able to live with comparativecomfort in a waste region--a man, in a word, equipped with such powerfulorganisms that he will be as much at home in the heart of the desert asan ordinary man would be in a drawing-room. You gather the drift of myargument. 

"I have observed this man Barry carefully. I am thoroughly convincedthat he is such an atavism. 

"Among other men he seems strange. He is different and therefore heseems mysterious. As a matter of fact, he is quite a common freak. Icould name you others like him in differing from common men, though notdiffering from them in exactly the same manner. 

"You see the result of this? Daniel Barry is a man to whom the desert isnecessary, because he was made for the desert. He is lonely amongcrowds--you have said it yourself--but he is at home in a mountainwilderness with a horse and a dog. "

"Doc, you talk well, " broke in Joe Cumberland, "but if he ain't human, why do humans like him so much? Why does he mean so much to me--toKate?"

"Simply because he is different. You get from him what you could getfrom no other man in the world, perhaps, and you fail to see that thefellow is really more akin to his wolf-dog than he is to a man. "

"Supposin' I said you was right, " murmured the old man, frowning, "howd'you explain why he likes other folks. According to you, the desert andthe mountains and animals is what he wants. Then how is it that he tookso much care of me when he come back this time? How is it that he likesKate, enough to give up a trail of blood to stay here with her?"

"It is easy to explain the girl's attraction, " said the doctor. "Allanimals wish to mate, Mr. Cumberland, and an age old instinct is nowworking out in Dan Barry. But while you and Kate may please him, you arenot necessary to him. He left you once before and he was quite happy inhis desert. And I tell you, Mr. Cumberland, that he will leave youagain. You cannot tame the untameable. It is not habit that rules thisman. It is instinct a million years old. The call which he will hear isthe call of the wilderness, and to answer it he will leave father andwife and children and ride out with his horse and his dog!"

The old man lay quite motionless, staring at the ceiling. 

"I don't want to believe you, " he said slowly, "but before God I thinkyou're right. Oh, lad, why was I bound up in a tangle like this one? AndKate--what will she do?"

The doctor was quivering with excitement. 

"Let the man stay with her. In time she will come to see the brutenature of Daniel Barry. That will be the end of him with her. "

"Brute. Doc. They ain't nobody as gentle as Dan!"

"Till he tastes blood, a lion can be raised like a house-dog, " answeredthe doctor. 

"Then she mustn't marry him? Ay, I've felt it--jest what you've put inwords. It's livin' death for Kate if she marries him! She's kept himhere to-day. To-morrow something may cross him, and the minute he feelsthe pull of it, he'll be off on the trail--the blow of a man, thehollering out of the wild geese--God knows what it'll take to start himwild again and forget us all--jest the way a child forgets its parents!"

A voice broke in upon them, calling far away: "Dan! Dan Barry!"

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE ACID TEST

In the living-room below they heard it, Dan and Kate Cumberland. All dayshe had sat by the fire which still blazed on the hearth, replenishedfrom time to time by the care of Wung Lu. She had taken up some sewing, and she worked at it steadily. Some of that time Dan Barry was in theroom, sitting through long intervals, watching her with lynx-eyedattention. Very rarely did he speak--almost never, and she could havenumbered upon her two hands the words he had spoken--ay, and she couldhave repeated them one by one. Now and again he rose and went out, andthe wolf-dog went with him each time. But towards the last Black Bartpreferred to stay in the room, crouched in front of her and blinking atthe fire, as if he knew that each time his master would return to thefire. Then, why leave the pleasant warmth for the chilly greyness of theday outside?

There he remained, stirring only now and then to lift a clumsy paw andbrush it across his eyes in an oddly human gesture. Once or twice, also, he lifted that great, scarred head and laid it on her knees, lookingcuriously from her busy hands to her face, and from her face back againto her work, until, having apparently assured himself that all was well, he dropped his head again and lay once more motionless. She could seehim open a listless eye when the master entered the room again. And witheach coming of Dan Barry she felt again surrounded as if by invisiblearms. Something was prying at her, striving to win a secret from her. 

As the day wore on, a great, singing happiness rose in her throat, andat about the same time she heard a faint sound, impalpable, from thefarther side of the room where Dan Barry sat. He was whistling. 

A simple thing for a man to do, to be sure, but the astonishment of itnearly stopped the heart of Kate Cumberland. For in all her life she hadnever before heard him whistle except when he was in the open, andpreferably when he was astride of the strength and the speed of Satan, with Black Bart scouting swiftly and smoothly ahead. But now he whistledhere by the warmth of the fire. To be sure the sound was small and thin, but there was such music in it as she had never heard before. It was sothin that it was almost ghostly, as if the soul of wild Paganini playedhere on a muted violin. No tune that might be repeated, but as alwayswhen she heard it, a picture rose before the eyes of Kate. It wavered atfirst against the yellow glow of the firelight. Then it quite shut outall else. 

It was deep night, starry night. The black horse and his rider wound upa deep ravine. To one side a bold mountain tumbled up to an infiniteheight, bristling with misshapen trees here and there, and losing itshead against the very stars. On the other side were jagged hills, allcarved in the solid rock. And down the valley, between the mountains andthe stars, blew a soft wind; as if that wind made the music. They wereclimbing up, up, up, and now they reach--the music rising also to a softbut triumphant outburst--a high plateau. They were pressed up againstthe heart of the sky. The stars burned low, and low. Around them thewhole earth seemed in prospect at their feet. The moon burst through amass of clouds, and she saw, far off, a great river running silverthrough the night. 

Happy? Ay, and he was happy too, and his happiness was one with hers. Hewas not even looking out the window while he whistled, but his eyes werefixed steadily, unchangingly, upon her face. 

It was then that they heard it: "Dan! Dan Barry! Come out!"

A hoarse, ringing cry, as of one who is shouting against a great wind:"Dan! Dan Barry! Come out!"

Dan Barry was on his feet and gliding to the wall, where he took downhis belt from a nail and buckled it swiftly around him. And Kate ran tothe window with the wolf-dog snarling beside her and saw standing infront of the house, his hat off, his black hair wildly tumbled, and twoguns in his hands, Buck Daniels! Behind him the tall bay mare shookwith her panting and glistened with the sweat of the long ride. 

She heard a scratching next and saw the wolf-dog rear up and paw at thedoor. Once through that door and he would be at the throat of the manoutside, she knew. Nor he alone, for Dan Barry was coming swiftly acrossthe room with that strange, padding step. He had no eye for her. He wassmiling, and she had rather have seen him in a cursing fury than to seethis smile. It curled the upper lip with something like a sneer; and shecaught the white glint of his teeth; the wolf-dog snarled back over hisshoulder to hurry his master. It was the crisis which she had known allday was coming, sooner or later. She had only prayed that it might bedelayed for a little time. And confronting the danger was like steppinginto the path of runaway horses. Fear ruled her with an iron hand, andshe swayed back against the wall and supported herself with anoutstretched hand. 

What was there to be done? If she stepped in between him and his man, hewould brush her aside from his path and out of his life forever. If hewent on to his vengeance he would no less be started on the path whichled around the world away from her. The law would be the hound whichpursued him and relentlessly nipped at his heels--an eternal terror andunrest. No thought of Buck Daniels who had done so much for her. Shecast his services out of her mind with the natural cruelty of woman. Her whole thought was, selfishly, for the man before her, and forherself. 

He was there--his hand was upon the knob of the door. And then sheremembered how the teeth of Black Bart had closed over her arm--and howthey had not broken even the skin. In an instant she was pressed againstthe door before Dan Barry--her arms outstretched. 

He fell back the slightest bit before her, and then he came again andbrushed her slowly, gently, to one side, with an irresistible strength. She had to meet his eyes now--there was no help for it--and she sawthere that swirl of yellow light--that insatiable hunger. And she knew, fully and bitterly, that she had failed. With the wolf-dog, indeed, shehad conquered, but the man escaped her. If time had been granted her shewould have won, she knew, but the hand of Buck Daniels, so long herally, had destroyed her chances. It was his hand now which shook theknob of the door, and she turned with a sob of despair to face the newdanger. 

In her wildest dreams she had never visioned Buck Daniels transformedlike this. She knew that in his past, as one of those long-riders whoroam the mountain-desert, their hand against the hands of every man, Buck Daniels had been known and feared by the strongest. But all she hadseen of Buck Daniels had been gentleness itself. Yet what faced her asthe door flew wide was a nightmare thing with haggard face andshadow-buried, glittering eyes--unshaven, unkempt of hair, his shirtopen at the throat, his great hands clenched for the battle. Thewolf-dog, at that familiar sight, whined a low greeting, but with aglance at his master knew that there was a change--the old alliance wasbroken--so he bared his white teeth and changed his whine to a snarl ofhate. 

Then a strange terror struck Kate Cumberland. She had never dreamed thatshe could fear for Dan Barry at the hands of any man, but now thedesperate resolve which breathed from every line of Buck Daniels, chilled her blood at the heart. She sprang back before Dan Barry. Facinghim, she saw that demoniac glitter of yellow rising momently brighter inhis eyes, and he was smiling. No execration or loud voiced curse couldhave contained the distilled malignancy of that smile. All this shecaught in a single glimpse. The next instant she had whirled and stoodbefore Dan, shielding him with outspread arms and facing Buck Daniels. The latter thrust back into the holster the gun which he had drawn whenhe entered the room. 

"Stand away from him, Kate, " he commanded, and his eyes went past her todwell on the face of Barry. "Stand away from him. It's been comin' for along time, and now it's here. Barry I'm takin' no start on you. Standaway from the girl and pull your gun--and I'll pump you full of lead. "

The softest of soft voices murmured behind her: "I been waitin' for you, Buck, days and days and days. I ain't never been so glad to seeanybody!"

And she felt Barry slip shadowlike to one side. She sprang in front ofhim again with a wild cry. 

"Buck!" she begged, "don't shoot!"

Laughter, ringing and unhuman, filled the throat of Buck Daniels. 

"Is it him you're beggin' for?" he sneered at her. "Is it him you gotyour fears for? Ain't you got a word of pity for poor Buck Daniels thatsneaked off like a whipped puppy? Bah! Dan Barry, the time is come. Ibeen leadin' the life of a houn' dog for your sake. But it's ended. Pullyour gun and get out from behind the skirts of that girl!"

As long as they faced each other with the challenge in their eyes, nothing on earth could avert the fight, she knew, but if she could delaythem for one moment--she felt that swift moving form behind her slippingaway from behind her--she could follow Barry's movements by the light inDaniels' eyes. 

"Buck!" she cried, "for God's sake--for my sake turn away fromhim--and--roll another cigarette!"

For she remembered the story--how Daniels had turned under the very noseof danger and done this insane thing in the saloon at Brownsville and inher despair she could think of no other appeal. 

It was the very strangeness of it that gave it point. Buck Danielsturned on his heel. 

"It's the last kindness I do you, Dan, " he said, with his broad back tothem. "But before you die you got to know why I'm killin' you. I'm goingto roll one cigarette and smoke it and while I smoke it I'm goin' totell you the concentrated truth about your worthless self and when I'mdone smokin' I'm goin' to turn around and drop you where you stand. D'ye hear?"

"They's no need of waitin', " answered the soft voice of Barry. "Talkin'don't mean much. "

But Kate Cumberland turned and faced him. He was fairly a-quiver witheagerness and the hate welled and blazed and flickered in his eyes; hisface was pale--very pale--and it seemed to her that she could make outin the pallor the print of the fingers of Buck Daniels and that blowthose many days before. And she feared him as she had never feared himbefore--yet she blocked his way still with the outspread arms. 

They could hear the crinkle of the cigarette paper as Buck rolled hissmoke. 

"No, " said Buck, his voice suddenly altered to an almost casualmoderation, "talk don't mean nothin' to you. Talk is human, and nothin'human means nothin' to you. But I got to tell you why you ought to die, Barry. 

"I started out this mornin' hatin' the ground you walked on, but now Isee that they ain't no use to hate you. Is they any use hatin' amountain-lion that kills calves? No, you don't hate it, but you get agun and trail it and shoot it down. And that's the way with you. "

They heard the scratch of his match. 

"That's the way with you. I got my back to you right now because if Ilooked you in the eye I couldn't let you live no more'n I could let amountain-lion live. I know you're faster with your gun than I am andstronger than I am, and made to fight. But I know I'm going to kill you. You've done your work--you've left hell on all sides of you--it's yourtime to die. I know it! You been lyin' like a snake in the rocks withyour poison ready for any man that walks past you. Now your poison isabout used up. "

He paused, and then when he spoke again there was a ring of exultationin his voice: "I tell you, Dan, I don't fear you, and I know that thebullet in this gun here on my hips is the one that's goin' to tear yourheart out. I _know_ it!"

Something like a sob came from the lips of Dan Barry. His hands movedout towards Buck Daniels as though he were plucking something from theempty air. 

"You've said enough, " he said. "You said plenty. Now turn around andfight!"

And Kate Cumberland stepped back, out of line of the two. She knew thatin what followed she could not play the part of the protector or thedelayer. Here they stood, hungry, for battle, and there was no power inher weak hands to separate them. She stood far back and fumbled with herhands at the wall for support. She tried to close her eyes, but thefascination of the horror forced her to watch against her strongestwill. And the chief part of that dreadful suspense lay in the even, calmvoice of Buck Daniels as he went on: "I'll turn around and fight soonenough. But Kate asked me to smoke another cigarette. I know what shemeans. She wants me to leave you the way I done in the saloon that day. I ain't goin' to leave, Dan. But I'm glad she asked me to turn away, because it gives me a chance to tell you some things you got to knowbefore you go west. 

"Dan, you been like a fire that burns every hand that touches you. " Heinhaled a long breath of smoke and blew it up towards the ceiling. "You've busted the heart of the friend that follered you; you've bustedthe heart of the girl that loves you. "

He paused again, for another long inhalation, and Kate Cumberland, staring in fearful suspense, waiting for the instant when Buck should atlast turn and when the shots should explode, saw that the yellow glowwas now somewhat misted in the eyes of Barry. He frowned, as onebewildered. 

"Think of her, Dan!" went on Buck Daniels. "Think of her wasting herselfon a no-good houn' dog like you--a no-good wild _wolf_! My God A'mighty, she might of made some good man happy--some man with a soul and aheart--but instead of that God sent you like a blast across her--youwith your damned soul of wind and your heart of stone! Think of it! Whenyou see what you been, Barry, I wonder you don't go out and take yourown gun and blow off your head. "

"Buck, " called Dan Barry, "so help me God, if you don't turn your faceto me--I'll shoot you through the back!"

"I knew, " said the imperturbable Daniels, "that you'd come to that inthe end. You used to fight like a man, but now you're followin' yourinstincts, and you fight like a huntin' wolf. Look at the brute that'sslinkin' up to me there! That's what you are. You kill for the sake ofkillin'--like the beasts. 

"If you was a man, could you treat me like you've done? Your damned coldheart and your yaller eyes and all would of burned up in the barn theother night--you and your wolf and your damned hoss. Why didn't I letyou burn? Because I was a fool. Because I still thought they wassomething of the man in you. But I seen afterwards what you was, and Irode off to get out of your way--to keep your hands from gettin' redwith my blood. And then you plan on follerin' me--damn you!--onfollerin' _me!_

"So that, Dan, is why I've come to put you out of the world--as I'mgoin' to do now! Once you hated to give pain, and if you hurt people itwas because you couldn't help it. But now you live on torturin' others. Barry, pull your gun!"

And as he spoke, he whirled, the heavy revolver leaping into his hand. 

Still Kate Cumberland could not close her eyes on the horror. She couldnot even cry out; she was frozen. 

But there was no report--no spurt of smoke--no form of a man stumblingblindly towards death. Dan Barry stood with one hand pressed over hiseyes and the other dangled at his side, harmless, while he frowned inbewilderment at the floor. 

He said slowly, at length: "Buck, I kind of think you're right. Theyain't no use in me. I been rememberin', Buck, how you sent Kate to mewhen I was sick. "

There was a loud clatter; the revolver dropped from the hand of BuckDaniels. 

The musical voice of Dan Barry murmured again: "And I remember how youstood up to Jim Silent, for my sake. Buck, what's come between us sincethem days? You hit me a while back, and since then I been wantin' yourblood--but hearin' you talk now, somehow--I feel sort of lost andlonesome--like I'd thrown somethin' away that I valued most. "

Buck Daniels threw out his great arms and his voice was broken terribly. 

"Oh, God A'mighty, Dan, " he cried, "jest take one step back to me andI'll come all the way around the world to meet you!"

He stumbled across the floor and grasped at the hand of Barry, for amist had half-blinded his eyes. 

"Dan, " he pleaded, "ain't things as they once was? D'you forgive me?"

"Why, Buck, " murmured Dan Barry, in that same bewildered fashion, "seemslike we was bunkies once. "

"Dan, " muttered Buck Daniels, choking, "Dan----" but he dared not trusthis voice further, and turning, he fairly fled from the room. 

The dazed eyes of Dan Barry followed him. Then they moved until theyencountered the face of Kate Cumberland. A shock, as if of surprise, widened the lids. For a long moment they stared in silence, and then hebegan to walk, very slowly, a step at a time, towards the girl. Now, ashe faced her, she saw that there was no longer a hint of the yellow inhis eyes, but he stepped closer and closer; he was right before her, watching her with an expression of mute suffering that made her heartgrow large. 

He said, more to himself than to her: "Seems like I been away a longtime. "

"A very long time, " she whispered. 

He drew a great breath. 

"Is it true, what Buck said? About you?"

"Oh, my dear, my dear!" she cried. "Don't you see?"

He started a little, and taking both her hands he made her face the dulllight from the windows. 

"Seems like you're kind of pale, Kate. "

"The colour went while I waited for you, Dan. "

"But there comes a touch of red--like morning--in your throat, andrunnin' up your cheeks. "

"Don't you see? It's because you've come back!"

He closed his eyes and murmured: "I remember we was close--closer thanthis. We were sittin' here--in this room--by a fire. And then somethingcalled me out and I follered it. "

"The wild geese--yes. "

"Wild geese?" he repeated blankly, and then shook his head. "How couldwild geese call me? But things happened. I was kept away. Sometimes Iwanted to come back to you, but somehow I could never get started. Wasit ten years ago that I left?"

"Months--months longer than years. "

"What is it?" he asked. "I been watchin' you, and waitin' to find outwhat was different in you. Black Bart seen something in you. I dunnowhat. Today I sort of guessed what it is. I can feel it now. It'ssomething like a pain. It starts sort of in the stomach, Kate. It's likebein' away from a place where you want to be. Queer, ain't it? I ain'tfar from you. I've got your hands in mine, but somehow you don't feelnear. I want to walk--a long ways--closer. And the pain keeps growin'. "

His voice fell away to a murmur, and now a deadly silence lay betweenthem, and it seemed as if lights were varying upon their faces, so swiftand subtle were the changes of expression. And they drew closer byimperceptible degrees. So his arms, fumbling, found their away abouther, drew her closer, till her head drooped back, and her face was closebeneath his. 

"Was it true, " he whispered, "what Buck said?"

"There's nothing true except that we're together. "

"But your eyes are brimful of tears!"

"The same pain you feel, Dan; the same loneliness and the hurt. "

"But it's going now. I feel as if I'd been riding three days withoutmore'n enough water to moisten my tongue every hour; with the sand whitehot, and my hoss staggerin', and the sun droppin' closer and closer tillthe mountains are touched with white fire. Then I come, in the evenin', to a valley with cool shadows beginning to slip across from the westernside, and I stand in the shadow and feel the red-hot blood go smashin', smashin', smashin' in my temples--and then--a sound of runnin' watersomewhere up the hill-side. Runnin', cool, fresh, sparkling waterwhispering over the rocks. Ah, God, that's what it means to me to standhere close to you, Kate!

"And it's like standin' up in the mornin' on the top of a high hill andseein' the light jump up quick in the east, and there lies all the worldat my feet, mile after mile of it--they's a river like silver away offyonder--and they's range after range walkin' off into a blue nothing. That's what it's like to stand here and look down into them blue eyes ofyours, Kate--miles and miles into 'em, till I feel as if I seen yourheart beneath. And they's the rose of the mornin' on your cheeks, andthe breath of the mornin' stirrin' between your lips, and the light ofthe risin' sun comes flarin' in your eyes. And I own the world--I ownthe world. '

"Two burnin' pieces of wood, that's you and me, and when I was away fromyou the fire went down to a smoulder; but now that we're close a windhits us, and the flames come together and rise and jump and twinetogether. Two pieces of burnin' wood, but only one flame--d'you feelit?--Oh, Kate, our bodies is ashes and dust, and all that's worth whileis that flame blowin' up from us, settin' the world on fire!"

CHAPTER XXXV

PALE ANNIE

Even in Elkhead there were fires this day. In the Gilead saloon onemight have thought that the liquid heat which the men imbibed wouldserve in place of stoves, but the proprietor, "Pale Annie, " had an eyeto form, and when the sky was grey he always lighted the stove. 

"Pale Annie" he was called because his real name was Anderson HawberrySandringham. That name had been a great aid to him when he was anundertaker in Kansas City; but Anderson Hawberry Sandringham had fallenfrom the straight and narrow path of good undertakers some years beforeand he had sought refuge in the mountain-desert, where most thingsprosper except sheriffs and grass. He was fully six inches more than sixfeet in height and his face was so long and pale that even Haw-HawLangley seemed cheerful beside the ex-undertaker. In Kansas City thishad been much prized, for that single face could lend solemnity to anyfuneral. In Elkhead it was hardly less of an asset. 

People came out of curiosity to see Pale Annie behind the bar with histall silk hat--which he could never bring himself to lay aside--amongthe cobwebs of the rafters. They came out of curiosity and they remainedto drink--which is a habit in the mountain-desert. A travelling drummeror a patent medicine man had offered Pale Annie a handsome stake tosimply go about with him and lend the sanction of his face to the talkof the drummer, but Pale Annie had discovered a veritable philosopher'sstone in Elkhead and he was literally turning whiskey into gold. 

This day was even more prosperous than usual for Pale Annie, for thegrey weather and the chilly air made men glad of the warmth, bothexternal and internal, which Pale Annie possessed in his barroom. Hisdextrous hands were never for a moment still at the bar, either settingout drinks or making change, except when he walked out and threw a freshfeed into the fire, and stirred up the ruddy depths of the stove with atall poker. It was so long, indeed, that it might have served even PaleAnnie for a cane and it was a plain untapered bar of iron which theblacksmith had given him as the price of a drink, on a day. He needed alarge poker, however, for there was only the one stove in the entire bigroom, and it was a giant of its kind, as capacious as a hogshead. Thisday Pale Annie kept it red hot, so that the warmth might penetrate tothe door on the one hand and to the rear of the room where the tablesand chairs were, on the other. 

Since Pale Annie's crowd took little exercise except for bending theirelbows now and again, and since the majority of them had been in theplace fully half the day, by ten in the evening sounds of hilarity beganto rise from the saloon. Solemn-faced men who had remained in theirplaces for hour after hour, industriously putting away the red-eye, nowshowed symptoms of life. Some of them discovered hitherto hidden talentsas singers, and they would rise from their places, remove their hats, open their bearded mouths, and burst into song. An antiquarian who hadwashed gold in '49 and done nothing the rest of his life save grow aprodigious set of pure white whiskers, sprang from his place and did ahoe-down that ravished the beholders. Thrice he was compelled to returnto the floor; and in the end his performance was only stopped by anattack of sciatica. Two strong men carried him back to his chair andwept over him, and there was another drink all around. 

In this scene of universal joy there were two places of shadow. For atthe rear end of the room, almost out of reach of the lantern-light, satHaw-Haw Langley and Mac Strann. The more Haw-Haw Langley drank the morecadaverous grew his face, until in the end it was almost as solemn asthat of Pale Annie himself; as for Mac Strann, he seldom drank at all. 

A full hour had just elapsed since either of them spoke, yet Haw-HawLangley said, as if in answer to a remark: "He's heard too much aboutyou, Mac. He ain't no such fool as to come to Elkhead. "

"He ain't had time, " answered the giant. 

"Ain't had time? All these days?"

"Wait till the dog gets well. He'll follow the dog to Elkhead. "

"Why, Mac, the trail's been washed out long ago. That wind the other daywould of knocked out any trail less'n a big waggon. "

"It won't wash out the trail for _that_ dog, " said Mac Strann calmly. 

"Well, " snarled Haw-Haw, "I got to be gettin' back home pretty soon. Iain't rollin' in coin the way you are, Mac. "

The other returned no answer, but let his eyes rove vacantly over theroom, and since his head was turned the other way, Haw-Haw Langleyallowed a sneer to twist at his lips for a moment. 

"If I had the price, " he said, "we'd have another drink. "

"I ain't drinkin', " answered the giant monotonously. 

"Then I'll go up and bum one off'n Pale Annie. About time he comethrough with a little charity. "

So he unfurled his length and stalked through the crowd up to the bar. Here he leaned and confidentially whispered in the ear of Pale Annie. 

"Partner, I been sprinklin' dust for a long time in here, and thereain't been any reward. I'm dry, Annie. "

Pale Annie regarded him with grave disapproval. 

"My friend, " he said solemnly, "liquor is the real root of all evil. Formy part, I quench my thirst with water. They's a tub over there in thecorner with a dipper handy. Don't mention it. "

"I didn't thank you, " said Haw-Haw Langley furiously. "Damn a tight-wad, say I!"

The long hand of Pale Annie curled affectionately around the neck of anempty bottle. 

"I didn't quite gather what you said?" he remarked courteously, andleaned across the bar--within striking distance. 

"I'll tell you later, " remarked Haw-Haw sullenly, and turned hisshoulder to the bar. 

As he did so two comparatively recent arrivals came up beside him. Theywere fresh from a couple of months of range-finding, and they had beenquenching a concentrated thirst by concentrated effort. Haw-Haw Langleylooked them over, sighed with relief, and then instantly produced Durhamand the brown papers. He paused in the midst of rolling his cigaretteand offered them to the nearest fellow. 

"Smoke?" he asked. 

Now a man of the mountain-desert knows a great many things, but he doesnot know how to refuse. The proffer of a gift embarrasses him, but heknows no way of avoiding it; also he never rests easy until he has madesome return. 

"Sure, " said the man, and gathered in the tobacco and papers. "Thanks!"

He covertly dropped the cigarette which he had just lighted, and steppedon it, then he rolled another from Haw-Haw's materials. The while, hekept an uneasy eye on his new companion. 

"Drinkin'?" he asked at length. 

"Not jest now, " said Haw-Haw carelessly. 

"Always got room for another, " protested the other, still more inearnest as he saw his chance of a return disappearing. 

"All right, then, " said Haw-Haw. "Jest one more. "

And he poured a glass to the brim, waved it gracefully towards theothers without spilling a drop, and downed it at a gulp. 

"Ben in town long?" he asked. 

"Not long enough to find any action, " answered the other. 

The eye of Haw-Haw Langley brightened. He looked over the two carefully. The one had black hair and the other red, but they were obviouslybrothers, both tall, thick-shouldered, square-jawed, and pug-nosed. There was Irish blood in that twain; the fire in their eyes could havecome from only one place on earth. And Haw-Haw grinned and looked downthe length of the room to where Mac Strann sat, a heavy, inert mass, hisfleshy forehead puckered into a half-frown of animal wistfulness. 

"You ain't the only ones, " he said to his companion at the bar. "They'sa man in town who says they don't turn out any two men in this rangethat could give him action. "

"The hell!" grunted he of the red hair. And he looked down to hisblunt-knuckled hands. 

"'S matter of fact, " continued Haw-Haw easily, "he's right here now!"

He looked again towards Mac Strann and remembered once more the drinkwhich Mac might so easily have purchased for him. 

"It ain't Pale Annie, is it?" asked the black haired man, casting adubious glance up and down the vast frame of the undertaker. 

"Him? Not half!" grinned Haw-Haw. "It's a fet feller down to the end ofthe bar. I guess he's been drinkin' some. Kind of off his nut. "

He indicated Mac Strann. 

"He looks to me, " said the red-haired man, setting his jaw, "like afeller that ain't any too old to learn one more thing about the range inthese parts. "

"He looks to me, " chimed in the black haired brother, "like a fellerthat might be taught something right here in Pale Annie's barroom. Anyway, he's got room at his table for two more. "

So saying the two swallowed their drinks and rumbled casually down thelength of the room until they came to the table where Mac Strann sat. Haw-Haw Langley followed at a discreet distance and came within earshotto hear the deep voice of Mac Strann rumbling: "Sorry, gents, but thatchair is took. "

The black-haired man sank into the indicated chair. 

"You're right, " he announced calmly. "Anybody could see with half aneye that you ain't a fool. It's took by me!"

And he grinned impudently in the face of Mac Strann. The latter, who hadbeen sitting with slightly bent head, now raised it and looked the pairover carelessly; there was in his eye the same dumb curiosity whichHaw-Haw Langley had seen many a time in the eye of a bull, leader of theherd. 

The giant explained carefully: "I mean, they's a friend of mine that'sbeen sittin' in that chair. "

"If I ain't your friend, " answered the black-haired brother instantly, "it ain't any fault of mine. Lay it up to yourself, partner!"

Mac Strann stretched out his hand on the surface of the table. 

He said: "I got an idea you better get out of that chair. "

The other turned his head slowly on all sides and then looked Mac Strannfull in the face. 

"Maybe they's something wrong with my eyes, " he said, "but I don't seeno reason. "

The little dialogue had lasted long enough to focus all eyes on thetable at the end of the room, and therefore there were many witnesses towhat followed. The arm of Mac Strann shot out; his hand fastened in thecollar of the black-haired man's shirt, and the latter was raised fromhis seat and propelled to one side by a convulsive jerk. He probablywould have been sent crashing into the bar had not his shirt failedunder the strain. It ripped in two at the shoulders, and the seekerafter action, naked to the waist, went reeling back to the middle of theroom, before he gained his balance. After him went Mac Strann with anagility astonishing in that squat, formless bulk. His long arms wereoutstretched and his fingers tensed, and in his face there was anuncanny joy; his lip had lifted in that peculiarly disheartening sneer. 

He was not a pace from him of the black hair when a yell of rage behindhim and the other brother leaped through the air and landed on MacStrann's back. He doubled up, slipped his arms behind him, and the nextinstant, without visible reason, the red-headed man hurtled through theair and smashed against the bar with a jolt that set the glasswareshivering and singing. Then he relaxed on the floor, a twisted andfoolish looking mass. 

As for the seeker after action, he had at first reached after hisrevolver, but he changed his mind at the last instant and instead pickedup the great poker which leaned against the stove. It was a ponderousweapon and he had to wield it in both hands. As he swung it around hishead there was a yell from men ducking out of the way, and Pale Anniecurled his hand again around his favorite empty bottle. He had no goodopportunity to demonstrate its efficiency, however. Mac Strann, crouching in the position from which he had catapulted the red-hairedman, cast upwards a single glance at the other brother, and then hesprang in. The poker hissed through the air with the vigour of a strongman's arms behind it and it would have cracked the head of Mac Strannlike an empty egg-shell if it had hit its mark. But it was heaved toohigh, and Mac Strann went in like a football player rushing the line, almost doubled up against the floor as he ran. His shoulders struck theother hardly higher than the knees, and they went down together, but sodoing the head of Mac Strann's victim cracked against the floor, and healso was still. 

The exploit was greeted by a yell of applause and then someone proposeda cheer, and it was given. It died off short on the lips of theapplauders, however, for it was seen that Mac Strann was not yet donewith his work, and he went about it in a manner which made men sobersuddenly and exchange glances. 

First the stranger dragged the two brothers together, laying one of themface down on the floor. The second he placed over the first, back toback. Next he picked up the long poker from the floor and slipped itunder the head and down to the neck of the first man. The bystanderswatched in utter silence, with a touch of horror coming now in theireyes. 

Now Mac Strann caught the ends of the iron and began to twist up onthem. There was no result at first. He refreshed his hold and triedagain. The sleeves of his shirt were seen to swell and then grow hardand taut with vast play of muscle beneath. His head bowed lower betweenhis shoulders, and those shoulders trembled, and the muscles over themquivered like heat-waves rising of a spring morning. There was acreaking, now, and then the iron was seen to shiver and then bend, slowly, and once it was wrenched out of the horizontal, the motion wasmore and more rapid. Until, when the giant was done with his labor, theends of the iron over-lapped around the necks of the two lucklessbrothers. Mac Strann stepped back and surveyed his work; the rest of theroom was in silence, saving that the red-headed man was coming back toconsciousness and now writhed and groaned feebly. He could not rise;that was manifest, for the thick band of iron tied his neck to the neckof his brother. 

Upon this scene Mac Strann gazed with a thoughtful air and then steppedto the side of the room where stood a bucket of dirty water, recentlyused for mopping behind the bar. This he caught up, returned, and dashedthe black, greasy water over the pair. 

If it had been electricity it could not have operated more effectively. The two awoke with one mind, and with a tremendous spluttering andcursing struggled to regain their feet. It was no easy thing, however, for when one stood up the other slipped and in his fall involved thebrother. In the meantime it made a jest exactly suited to the mind ofElkhead, and shrieks of hysterical laughter rewarded their struggles. Until at length they sat solemnly, back to back, easing the pressure ofthe iron as best they might with their hands. Assembled Elkhead reeledabout the room, drunken with laughter. But Mac Strann went quietly backto his table and paid no attention to the scene. 

There is an end to all good things, however, and finally the twobrothers concerted action together, rose, and then side-stepped towardsthe door, dripping the mop-water at every step. Obviously they werebound for the blacksmith's to lose their collar; and everyone in thesaloon knew that the blacksmith was not in town. 

The old man who had done the hoe-down hobbled to the end of the barroomand before the table of Mac Strann made a speech to the effect thatElkhead had everything it needed except laughter, that Mac Strann hadcome to their assistance in that respect, and that if he, the old man, had the power, he would pension such an efficient jester and keep himpermanently in the town. To all of this Mac Strann paid not theslightest heed, but with his fleshy brow puckered considered theinfinite distance. Even the drink which Pale Annie, grateful for theaverted riot, placed on the table before him, Mac Strann allowed tostand untasted. And it was private stock!

It was at this time that Haw-Haw Langley made his way back to the tableand occupied the contested seat. 

"That was a bum play, " he said solemnly to Mac Strann. "When Barry hearsabout what you done here to two men, d'you think that he'll ever hityour trail?"

The other started. 

"I never thought about it, " he murmured, his thick lips, as always, framing speech with difficulty. "D'you s'pose I'd ought to go back tothe Cumberland place for him?"

A yell rose at the farther end of the room. 

"A wolf! Hey! Shoot the damn wolf!"

"You fool!" cried another. "He ain't skinny enough to be a wolf. Besides, whoever heard of a tame wolf comin' into a barroom?"

Nevertheless many a gun was held in readiness, and the men, even themost drunken, fell back to one side and allowed a free passage for theanimal. It seemed, indeed, to be a wolf, and a giant of its kind, and itslunk now with soundless step through the silence of the barroom, glancing neither to right nor to left, until it came before the table ofMac Strann. There it halted and slunk back a little, the upper liplifted away from the long fangs, its eyes glittered upon the face of thegiant, and then it swung about and slipped out of the barroom as it hadcome, in utter silence. 

In the utter silence Mac Strann leaned across the table to Haw-HawLangley. 

"He's come alone this time, " he said, "but the next time he'll bring hismaster with him. We'll wait!"

The Adam's-apple rose and fell in the throat of Haw-Haw. 

"We'll wait, " he nodded, and he burst into the harsh, unhuman laughterwhich had given him his name. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE DISCOVERY OF LIFE

This is the letter which Swinnerton Loughburne received over thesignature of Doctor Randall Byrne. It was such a strange letter thatbetween paragraphs Swinnerton Loughburne paced up and down his GramercyPark studio and stared, baffled, at the heights of the MetropolitanTower. 

"Dear Swinnerton, "I'll be with you in good old Manhattan about as soon as you get thisletter. I'm sending this ahead because I want you to do me a favour. IfI have to go back to those bare, blank rooms of mine with the smell ofchemicals drifting in from the laboratory, I'll--get drunk. That's all!"

Here Swinnerton Loughburne lowered the letter to his knees and graspedhis head in both hands. Next he turned to the end of the letter and madesure that the signature was "Randall Byrne. " He stared again at thehandwriting. It was not the usual script of the young doctor. It wasbolder, freer, and twice as large as usual; there was a total lack ofregard for the amount of stationery consumed. 

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Swinnerton Loughburne shook his finegrey head and read on: "What I want you to do, is to stir about and findme a new apartment. Mind you, I don't want the loft of some infernalArcade building in the Sixties. Get me a place somewhere betweenThirtieth and Fifty-eighth. _Two_ bed-rooms. I want a place to put someof the boys when they drop around my way. And at least one servant'sroom. Also at least one large room where I can stir about and wave myarms without hitting the chandelier. Are you with me?"

Here Swinnerton Loughburne seized his head between both hands again andgroaned: "Dementia! Plain and simple dementia! And at his age, poorboy!"

He continued: "Find an interior decorator. Not one of these fuzzy hairedwomen-in-pants, but a he-man who knows what a he-man needs. Tell him Iwant that place furnished regardless of expense. I want some deep chairsthat will hit me under the knees. I want some pictures on the wall--but_nothing out of the Eighteenth Century_--no impressionisticlandscapes--no girls dolled up in fluffy stuff. I want some pictures Ican enjoy, even if my maiden aunt can't. There you are. Tell him to goahead on those lines. 

"In a word, Swinnerton, old top, I want to live. For about thirty yearsI've _thought_, and now I know that there's nothing in it. All thethinking in the world won't make one more blade of grass grow; put oneextra pound on the ribs of a long-horn; and in a word, thinking is thebunk, pure and simple!"

At this point Swinnerton Loughburne staggered to the window, threw itopen, and leaned out into the cold night. After a time he had strengthenough to return to his chair and read through the rest of the epistlewithout interruption. 

"You wonder how I've reached the new viewpoint? Simply by seeing someconcentrated life here at the Cumberland ranch. My theories are blastedand knocked in the head--praise God!--and I've brushed a million cobwebsout of my brain. Chemistry? Rot! There's another sort of chemistry thatworks on the inside of a man. That's what I want to study. There arethree great preliminary essentials to the study:

 1st: How to box with a man. 2nd: How to talk with a girl. 3rd: How to drink old wine. 

Try the three, Swinnerton; they aren't half bad. At first they may giveyou a sore jaw, an aching heart, and a spinning head, but in the endthey teach you how to keep your feet and _fight!_

"This is how my eyes were opened. 

"When I came out to this ranch it was hard for me to ride a horse. SoI've been studying how it should be done. Among other things, you shouldkeep your toes turned in, you know. And there are many other things tolearn. 

"When I had mastered them one by one I went out the other day and askedto have a horse saddled. It was done, and a lantern-jawed cowpuncherbrought out a piebald gelding with long ears and sleepy eyes. Not alovely beast, but a mild one. So I went into the saddle according totheory--with some slight hesitations here and there, planted my feet inthe stirrups, and told the lantern-jawed fellow to turn loose the headof the piebald. This was done. I shook the reins. The horse did notmove. I called to the brute by name. One ear wagged back to listen tome. 

"I kicked the beast in the ribs. Unfortunately I had forgotten that longspurs were on my heels. The horse was instantly aware of that fact, however. He leaped into a full gallop. A very jolty process. Then hestopped--but I kept on going. A fence was in the way, so I was halted. Afterwards the lantern-jawed man picked me up and offered to carry meback to the house or at least get a wheelbarrow for me. I refused withsome dignity. I remarked that I preferred walking, really, and so Istarted out across the hills and away from the house. My head was sore;so were my shoulders where I hit the fence; I began to think of the joyof facing that horse again, armed with a club. 

"It was evening--after supper, you see--and the light of the moon wasalready brighter than the sunlight. And by the time I had crossed thefirst range of hills, it was quite dark. As I walked I brooded upon manythings. There were enough to disturb me. 

"There was old Joe Cumberland, at death's door and beyond the reach ofmy knowledge; and he had been taken away from death by the wild man, DanBarry. There was the girl with the bright hair--Kate Cumberland. Ineducation, nothing; in brain, nothing; in experience, nothing; and yet Iwas attracted. But she was not attracted in the least until along camethe wild man again, and then she fell into his arms--actually fought forhim! Why? I could not tell. My name and the things I have done and evenmy money, meant nothing to her. But when he came it was only a glance, aword, a smile, and she was in his arms. I felt like Caligula. I wishedthe world had only one neck, and I an axe. But why should I have feltdepressed because of failures in the eyes of these silly yokels? Not oneof them could read the simplest chemical formula!

"All very absurd, you will agree, and you may get some inkling as to mystate of mind while I walked over those same dark hills. I seemed a partof that darkness. I looked up to the stars. They were merely like thepages of a book. I named them off hand, one after the other, and thoughtof their characteristics, their distances, their composition, andmeditated on the marvels the spectrum has made known to us. But nosooner did such a train of thoughts start in my brain, than I againrecurred to the girl, Kate Cumberland, and all I was aware of was a painat heart--something like homesickness. Very strange. 

"She and the man are together constantly. The other day I was in JosephCumberland's room and we heard whistling outside. The face of the oldman lighted, 'They are together again, ' he said. 'How do you guess atthat?' I asked. 'By the sound of his whistling, ' he answered. 'For hewhistles as if he expected an answer--as if he were talking withsomeone. ' And by the Lord, the old man was right. It would never haveoccurred to me!

"Now as I started down the farther slope of a hill a whistling sound ranupon me through the wind, and looking back I saw a horseman gallopingwith great swiftness along the line of the crest, very plainly outlinedby the sky, and by something of smoothness in the running of the horse Iknew that it was Barry and his black stallion. But the whistling--themusic! Dear God, man, have you read of the pipes of Pan? That night Iheard them and it made a riot in my heart. 

"He was gone, suddenly, and the whistling went out like a light, butsomething had happened inside me--the first beginning of this process ofinternal change. The ground no longer seemed so dark. There were earthsmells--very friendly--I heard some little creature chirrupingcontentedly to itself. Something hummed--a grasshopper, perhaps. Andthen I looked up to the stars. There was not a name I could think of--Iforgot them all, and for the first time I was contented to look at themand wonder at their beauty without an attempt at analysis or labelling. 

"If I say that I went back to the ranch-house with my feet on the groundand by heart up there among the stars, will you understand?

"I found the girl sewing in front of the fire in the living room. Simply looked up to me with a smile, and a certain dimness about theeyes--well, my breath stopped. 

"'Kate, ' said I, 'I am going away to-morrow morning!'

"'And leave Dad?' said she. 

"'To tell you the truth, ' I answered, 'there is nothing I can do forhim. There has never been anything I could do for him. '

"'I am sorry, ' said she, and lifted up her eyes to me. 

"Now, I had begun by being stiff with her, but the ringing of thatwhistling--pipes of Pan, you know--was in my ears. I took a chair besideher. Something overflowed in my heart. For the first time in whole daysI could look on her beauty without pain. 

"'Do you know why I'm going?' I asked. 

"She waited. 

"'Because, ' said I, and smiled right into her face, 'I love you, Kate, most infernally; and I know perfectly well that I will get never thedevil a bit of good out of it. '

"She peered at me. 'You aren't jesting?' says she. 'No, you're serious. I'm very sorry, Doctor Byrne. '

"'And I, ' I answered, 'am glad. I wouldn't change it for the world. Foronce in my life--to-night--I've forgotten myself. No, I won't go awayand nurse a broken heart, but I'll think of you as a man should think ofsomething bright and above him. You'll keep my heart warm, Kate, tillI'm a very old man. Because of you, I'll be able to love some othergirl--and a fine one, by the Lord!'

"Something in the nature of an outburst, eh? But it was the music whichhad done it. All the time it rang and echoed through my ears. My wordswere only an echo of it. I was in tune with the universe. I was livingfor the first time. The girl dropped her sewing--tossed it aside. Shecame over to me and took my hands in a way that would have warmed eventhe icicles of your heart, Swinnerton. 

"'Doctor, ' says she, 'I know that you are going to be very happy. '

"'Happiness, ' said I, 'is a trick, like riding a horse. And I think thatI've learned the trick. I've caught it from you and from Barry. '

"At that, she let go my hands and stepped back. The very devil is inthese women, Swinnerton. You never can place them for a minute at atime. 

"'I am trying to learn myself, ' she said, and there was a shadow ofwistfulness in her eyes. 

"In another moment I should have made a complete fool of myself, but Iremembered in time and got out of the room. To-morrow I start back forthe old world but I warn you beforehand, my dear fellow, that I'mbringing something of the new world with me. 

"What has it all brought to me? I am sad one day and gay the next. Butat least I know that thinking is not life and now I'm ready to fight. 

"Randall Byrne. "

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE PIEBALD

The morning of the doctor's departure witnessed quite a ceremony at theCumberland ranch, for old Joe Cumberland insisted that he be broughtdown from his room to his old place in the living-room. When heattempted to rise from his bed, however, he found that he could notstand; and big Buck Daniels lifted the old man like a child and carriedhim down the stairs. Once ensconced on the sofa in the living-room JoeCumberland beckoned his daughter close to him, and whispered with asmile as she leaned over: "Here's what comes of pretendin', Kate. I beenpretending to be too sick to walk, and now I _can't_ walk; and if I'dpretended to be well, I'd be ridin' Satan right now!"

He looked about him. 

"Where's Dan?" he asked. 

"Upstairs getting ready for the trip. "

"Trip?"

"He's riding with Doctor Byrne to town and he'll bring back DoctorByrne's horse. "

The old man grew instantly anxious. 

"They's a lot of things can happen on a long trip like that, Kate. "

She nodded gravely. 

"But we have to try him, " she said. "We can't keep him here at the ranchall the time. And if he really cares, Dad, he'll come back. "

"And you let him go of your own free will?" asked Joe Cumberland, wonderingly. 

"I asked him to go, " she answered quietly, but some of the colour lefther face. 

"Of course it's going to come out all right, " nodded her father. 

"I asked him when he'd be back, and he said he would be here by darkto-night. "

The old man sighed with relief. 

"He don't never slip up on promises, " he said. "But oh, lass, I'll beglad when he's back again! Buck, how'd you and Dan come along together?"

"We don't come, " answered Buck gloomily. "I tried to shake hands withhim yesterday and call it quits. But he wouldn't touch me. He jestleaned back and smiled at me and hated me with his eyes, that way hehas. He don't even look at me except when he has to, and when he does Ifeel like someone was sneaking up behind me with a knife ready. And heain't said ten words to me since I come back. " He paused and consideredKate with the same dark, lowering glance. "To-morrow I leave. "

"You'll think better of that, " nodded Joe Cumberland. "Here's the doctornow. "

He came in with Dan Barry behind him. A changed man was the doctor. Hewas a good two inches taller because he stood so much more erect, andthere was a little spring in his step which gave aspiration and spiritto his carriage. He bade them good-bye one by one, and by Joe Cumberlandhe sat down for an instant and wished him luck. The old ranchman drewthe other down closer. 

"They's no luck for me, " he whispered, "but don't tell none of 'em. I'mabout to take a longer trip than you'll ride to-day. But first I'll see'em settled down here--Dan quiet and both of 'em happy. S'long, doc--thanks for takin' care of me. But this here is something that can'tbe beat no way. Too many years'll break the back of any man, doc. Luckto ye!"

"If you'll step to the door, " said the doctor, smiling upon the rest, "you'll have some fun to watch. I'm going to ride on the piebald. "

"Him that throwed you yesterday?" grinned Buck Daniels. 

"The same, " said the doctor. "I think I can come to a gentleman'sunderstanding with him. A gentleman from the piebald's point of view isone who is never unintentionally rude. He may change his mind thismorning--or he may break my back. One of the two is sure to happen. "

In front of the house Dan Barry already sat on Satan with Black Bartsitting nearby watching the face of his master. And beside them thelantern-jawed cowpuncher held the bridle of the piebald mustang. Neverin the world was there a lazier appearing beast. His lower lip hungpendulous, a full inch and a half below the upper. His eyes were rolledso that hardly more than the whites showed. He seemed to stand asleep, dreaming of some Nirvana for equine souls. And the only signs of lifewere the long ears, which wobbled, occasionally, back and forth. 

When the doctor mounted, the piebald limited all signs of interest toopening one eye. 

The doctor clucked. The piebald switched his tail. Satan, at a word fromDan Barry, moved gracefully into a soft trot away from the house. Thedoctor slapped his mount on the neck. An ear flicked back and forth. Thedoctor stretched out both legs, and then he dug both spurs deep into theflanks of the mustang. 

It was a perfectly successful maneuvre. The back of the piebald changedfrom an ugly humped line to a decidedly sharp parabola and the horseleft the ground with all four feet. He hit it again, almost in theidentical hoof-marks, and with all legs stiff. The doctor saggeddrunkenly in the saddle, and his head first swung far back, and thensnapped over so that the chin banged against his chest. Nevertheless heclung to the saddle with both hands, and stayed in his seat. The piebaldswung his head around sufficiently to make sure of the surprising fact, and then he commenced to buck in earnest. 

It was a lovely exhibition. He bucked with his head up and his headbetween his knees. He bucked in a circle and in a straight line and thenmixed both styles for variety. He made little spurts at full speed, leaped into the air, and came down stiff-legged at the end of the run, his head between his braced forefeet, and then he whirled as if on a pegand darted back the other way. He bucked criss-cross, jumping from sideto side, and he interspersed this with samples of all his other kinds ofbucking thrown in. That the doctor stuck on the saddle was a miraclebeyond belief. Of course he pulled leather shamelessly throughout thecontest, but riding straight up is a good deal of a myth. Fancy ridingis reserved for circus men. The mountain-desert is a place where menstick close to utility and let style go hang. 

And the doctor stuck in the saddle. He had set his teeth, and he was asea-sick greenish-white. His hat was a-jog over one ear--his shirt tailsflew out behind. And still he remained to battle. Aye, for he ceased thepassive clinging to the saddle. He gathered up the long quirt which hadhitherto dangled idly from his wrist, and at the very moment when thepiebald had let out another notch in his feats, the doctor, holding ondesperately with one hand, with the other brandished the quirt aroundhis head and brought it down with a crack along the flanks of thepiebald. 

The effect was a little short of a miracle. The mustang snorted andleaped once into the air, but he forgot to come down stiff-legged, andthen, instantly, he broke into a little, soft dog trot, and followedhumbly in the trail of the black stallion. The laughter and cheers fromthe house were the sweetest of music in the ears of Doctor RandallByrne; the most sounding sentences of praise from the lips of the mostlearned of professors, after this, would be the most shabby ofanticlimaxes. He waved his arm back to a group standing in front of thehouse--Buck Daniels, Kate, the lantern-jawed cowboy, and Wung Lu wavinghis kitchen apron. In another moment he was beside the rider of thestallion, and the man was whistling one of those melodies which defiedrepetition. It simply ran on and on, smoothly, sweeping throughtransition after transition, soaring and falling in the most effortlessmanner. Now it paused, now it began again. It was never loud, but itcarried like the music of a bird on wing, blown by the wind. There wasabout it, also, something which escaped from the personal. He began toforget that it was a man who whistled, and such a man! He began to lookabout to the hills and the sky and the rocks--for these, it might besaid, were set to music--they, too, had the sweep of line, and thebroken rhythms, the sense of spaciousness, the far horizons. 

That day was a climax of the unusual weather. For a long time the skyhad been periodically blanketed with thick mists, but to-day the windhad freshened and it tore the mists into a thousand mighty fragments. There was never blue sky in sight--only, far up, a diminishing andlighter grey to testify that above it the yellow sun might be shining;but all the lower heavens were a-sweep with vast cloud masses, irregular, huge, hurling across the sky. They hung so low that one couldfollow the speed of their motion and almost gauge it by miles per hour. And in the distance they seemed to brush the tops of the hills. Seeingthis, the doctor remembered what he had heard of rain in this region. Itwould come, they said, in sheets and masses--literal water-falls. Dryarroyos suddenly filled and became swift torrent, rolling big bouldersdown their courses. There were tales of men fording rivers who weresuddenly overwhelmed by terrific walls of water which rushed down fromthe higher mountains in masses four and eight feet high. In coming theymade a thundering among the hills and they plucked up full grown treeslike twigs thrust into wet mud. Indeed, that was the sort of rain onewould expect in such a country, so whipped and naked of life. Even thereviving rainfall was sent in the form of a scourge; and that whichshould make the grass grow might tear it up by the roots. 

That was a time of change and of portent, and a day well fitted to themood of Randall Byrne. He, also, had altered, and there was about tobreak upon him the rain of life, and whether it would destroy him ormake him live, and richly, he could not guess. But he was naked to theskies of chance--naked as this landscape. 

Far past the mid-day they reached the streets of Elkhead and stopped atthe hotel. As the doctor swung down from his saddle, cramped and sorefrom the long ride, thunder rattled over the distant hills and a patterof rain splashed in the dust and sent up a pungent odor to hisnostrils. It was like the voice of the earth proclaiming its thirst. Anda blast of wind leaped down the street and lifted the brim of Barry'shat and set the bandana at his throat fluttering. He looked away intothe teeth of the wind and smiled. 

There was something so curious about him at the instant that RandallByrne wanted to ask him into the hotel--wanted to have him knee to kneefor a long talk. But he remembered an old poem--the sea-shell needs thewaves of the sea--the bird will not sing in the cage. And the yellowlight in the eyes of Barry, phosphorescent, almost--a thing that mightbe nearly seen by night--that, surely, would not shine under any roof. It was the wind which made him smile. These things he understood, without fear. 

So he said good-bye, and the rider waved carelessly and took the reinsof the piebald and turned the stallion back. He noted the catlike graceof the horse in moving, as if his muscles were steel springs; and henoted also that the long ride had scarcely stained the glossy hide withsweat--while the piebald reeked with the labour. Randall Byrne drewthoughtfully back onto the porch of the hotel and followed the riderwith his eyes. In a moment a great cloud of dust poured down the street, covered the rider, and when it was gone he had passed around a cornerand out of the life of the doctor. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE CHALLENGE

All this time Black Bart had trotted contentedly ahead of Satan, neverhaving to glance back but apparently knowing the intended direction;save that when Dan Barry turned to the road leading out of the littletown, the wolf-dog had turned in an opposite direction. The rider turnedin the saddle and sent a sharp whistle towards the animal, but he wasanswered by a short howl of woe that made him check Satan and swingaround. Black Bart stood in the centre of the street facing in theopposite direction, and he looked back over his shoulder towards hismaster. 

There was apparently a perfect understanding between them, and themaster first glanced up and made sure of the position of the sun and thelength of time he might allow for the trip home, before he decided tofollow the whim of the wolf-dog. Then he turned Satan and cantered, withthe piebald trailing, back towards Black Bart. 

At this the wolf-dog began to trot down the street, turned the nextcorner, and drew up at the door of a rambling building above which hunga dirty, cracked sign: "GILEAD SALOON" and underneath in smallerletters was painted the legend: "Here's where you get it!"

Black Bart strolled up to the swinging doors of the emporium and thenturned to look back at his master; clearly he wished Dan to enter theplace. But the rider shook his head and would certainly have ridden onhad not, at that moment, the rain which had hitherto fallen only inrattling bursts, now burst over the roofs of the town with a loudroaring as of wind through a forest. It was possible that the showermight soon pass over, so Dan rode under the long shelter which stretchedin front of the saloon, dismounted, and entered behind Black Bart. 

It was occupied by a scattering of people, for the busy time of the dayhad not yet commenced and Pale Annie was merely idling behind thebar--working at half-speed, as it were. To this group Black Bart paidnot the slightest heed but glided smoothly down the centre of the longroom until he approached the tables at the end, where, in a corner, sata squat, thick-chested man, and opposite him the most cadaverously leanfellow that Whistling Dan had ever seen. Before these two Black Bartpaused and then cast a glance over his shoulder towards the master;Whistling Dan frowned in wonder; he knew neither of the pair. 

But Black Bart apparently did. He slouched a pace closer, crouched, andbared his fangs with a tremendous snarl. At this the lean man left hischair and sprang back to a distance. Terror convulsed his face; but hiseyes glittered with a fascinated interest and he glanced first at hiscompanion and then at the great wolf-dog, as if he were making acomparison between them. It was the broad shouldered man who firstspoke. 

"Partner, " he said in a thick voice, in which the articulation wasalmost lost, "maybe you better take your dog out before he gets hurt. Hedon't like me and I don't like him none too much. "

"Bart!" called Dan Barry. 

But Black Bart gave no heed. There had been a slight flexing of hismuscles as he crouched, and now he leaped--a black bolt of fightingweight--squarely in the face of the giant. He was met and checked midwayin his spring. For the two long arms darted out, two great handsfastened in the throat of the beast, and Black Bart fell back upon thefloor, with Mac Strann following, his grip never broken by the fall. 

A scurry of many feet running towards the scene; a shouting of twentyvoices around him; but all that Whistling Dan saw were the fangs of Bartas they gnashed fruitlessly at the wrists of Mac Strann, and then thegreat red tongue lolling out and the eyes bulging from theirsockets--all he heard was the snarling of the wolf and the peculiarwhine of rage which came from the throat of the man-beast fighting thewolf. Then he acted. His hands darted between the thick forearms of MacStrann--his elbows jerked out and snapped the grip; next he draggedBlack Bart away from the danger. 

The wolf was instantly on his feet and lunging again, but a sharp"Heel!" from Dan checked him mid-leap. He came to a shuddering haltbehind the legs of his master. Whistling Dan slipped a little closer tothe giant. 

"I should have knowed you before, " he said in a voice which carried onlyto the ears of Strann. "You're the brother of Jerry Strann. And they's areason why Bart hates you, partner!"

The thick upper lip of Strann lifted slightly as he spoke. 

"Him or you--you and your wolf together or one by one--it don't make nodifference to me. I've come for you, Barry!"

The other straightened a little, and his eyes travelled slowly up anddown the form of Strann. 

"I been hungering to meet a man like you, " he said. "Hungerin', partner. "

"North of town they's the old McDuffy place, all in ruins and nobodyever near it. I'll be there in an hour, m'frien'. "

"I'll be waiting for you there, " nodded Mac Strann, and so saying, heturned back to his table as if he had been interrupted by nothing morethan a casual greeting. Still Dan Barry remained a moment with his eyeson the face of Mac Strann. And when he turned and walked with his light, soundless step down the length of the silent barroom, the wolf-dog slunkat his heels, ever and anon swinging his head over his shoulder andglancing back at the giant at the end of the room. As the door closedon man and dog, the saloon broke once more into murmur, and then intoan excited clamoring. Pale Annie stepped from behind the bar and leanedupon the table beside Mac Strann. Even while leaning in this manner thebartender was as tall as the average man; he waved back the others witha gesture of his tremendous arm. Then he reached out and took the handof Mac Strann in his clammy fingers. 

"My friend, " said the ex-undertaker in his careful manner, "I seen a manonce California a husky two-year-old--which nobody said could be done, and I've seen some other things, but I've never seen anything to touchthe way you handled Black Bart. D'you know anything about that dog?"

Mac Strann shook his ponderous head and his dull eyes considered PaleAnnie with an expression of almost living curiosity. 

"Black Bart has a record behind him that an old time gun-man would haveheard with envy. There are dead men in the record of that dog, sir!"

All this he had spoken in a comparatively loud voice, but now, notingthat the others had heeded his gesture and had made back towards the barto drink on the strength of that strange fight between man and beast, the bartender approached his lips close to the ear of the giant. 

He said in a rapid murmur: "I watched you talking with Dan Barry and Isaw Barry's face when he went out. You and he are to meet somewhereagain to-day. My friend, don't throw yourself away. "

Here Mac Strann stared down at his mighty hand--a significant answer, but Pale Annie went on swiftly: "Yes, you're strong, but strength won'tsave you from Dan Barry. We know him here in Elkhead. Do you know thatif he had pulled his gun and shot you down right here where you sit, that he could have walked out of this room without a hand raised to stophim? Yes, sir! And why? Because we know his record; and I'd rather goagainst a wolf with my bare hands--as you did--than stand up against DanBarry with guns. I could tell you how he fought Jim Silent's gang, oneto six. I could tell you a lot of other things. My friend, I _will_ tellyou about 'em if you'll listen. "

But Mac Strann considered the speaker with his dull eyes. 

"I never was much on talkin', " he observed mildly. "I don't understandtalkin' very well. "

Pale Annie started to speak again, but he checked himself, staredearnestly at Mac Strann, and then hurried back behind his bar. His facewas even graver than usual; but business was business with PaleAnnie--and all men have to die in their time! Haw-Haw Langley took theplace which Pale Annie had left vacant opposite Mac Strann. 

He cast a frightened glance upward, where the rain roared steadily onthe roof of the building; then his eyes fluttered back until they restedon the face of his companion. He had to moisten his thin lips before hecould speak and even then it was a convulsive effort, like a manswallowing too large a morsel. 

"Well?" said Haw-Haw. "Is it fixed?"

"It's fixed, " said Mac Strann. "Maybe you'd get the hosses, Haw-Haw. Ifyou're comin with me?"

A dark shadow swept over the face of Haw-Haw Langley. 

"You're going to beat it?" he sneered. "After you come all this wayyou're going to run away from Barry? And him not half your size?"

"I'm going out to meet him, " answered Mac Strann. 

Haw-Haw Langley started up as if he feared Mac Strann would change hismind if there were any delay. His long fingers twisted together, as ifto bring the blood into circulation about the purple knuckles. 

"I'll have the hosses right around to the front, " he said. "By the timeyou got your slicker on, Mac, I'll have 'em around in front!"

And he stalked swiftly from the room. 

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE STORM

When they rode out of the town the wet sand squashed under the feet oftheir horses and splashed up on their riding boots and their slickers. It even spotted their faces here and there, and a light brown spraydarted out to right and left of the falling hoofs. For all the streetsof Elkhead were running shallow rivers, with dark, swift currents, andwhen they left the little town the landscape was shut out by the fallingtorrents. It made a strange and shifting panorama, for the rain variedin its density now and again, and as it changed hills which had beenquite blotted out leaped close upon them, like living things, and thensprang back again into the mist. 

So heavy was that tropical fall of water that the horses were botheredby the beating of the big drops, and shook their heads and stampedfretfully under the ceaseless bombardment. Indeed, when one stretchedout his hand the drops stung him as if with lashes of tiny whips. Therewas no wind, no thunder, no flash of lightning, only the tremendousdownpour which blended earth and sky in a drab, swift river. 

The air was filled with parallel lines, as in some pencil drawings--notlike ordinary rain, but as if the sky had changed into a vastwatering-spout and was sending down a continuous flood from a myriadholes. It was hard to look up through the terrific downpour, for itblinded one and whipped the face and made one breathless, but now andagain a puff of the rare wind would lift the sodden brim of the sombreroand then one caught a glimpse of the low-hanging clouds, with thenearest whiffs of black mist dragging across the top of a hill. Withoutnoticeable currents of wind, that mass of clouds was shiftingslowly--with a sort of rolling motion, across the sky. And the weight ofthe rain forced the two to bend their heads and stare down to where theface of the earth was alive with the gliding, brown waters, whosesurface was threshed into a continual foam. To speak to each otherthrough the uproar, they had to cup their hands about their lips andshout. Then again the rainfall around them fell away to a drizzling mistand the beating of the downpour sounded far away, and they weresurrounded by distant walls of noise. So they came to the McDuffy place. 

It was a helpless ruin, long abandoned. Not an iota of the roofremained. The sheds for the horses had dropped to the earth; but thewalls of the house still remained standing, in part, with the emptywindows looking out with a mocking promise of the shelter which was notwithin. Upon this hollow shack the rain beat with redoubled fury, andeven before they could make out the place through the blankets of rain, they heard the hollow drumming. For there were times, oddly enough, whenany sound would carry a great distance through the crashing of the rain. 

A wind now sprung up and at once veered the rain from its perpendicularfall. It slashed them in the face under the drooping brims of theirsombreros, so they drew into the shelter of the highest part of thestanding wall. Still some of the rain struck them, but the major part ofit was shunted over their heads. Moreover, the wall acted as a sort ofsounding board, catching up every odd noise from the storm-beaten plainbeyond. They could speak to each other now without effort. 

"D'you think, " asked Haw-Haw Langley, pressing his reeking horse alittle closer to Mac Strann, "that he'll come out after us in a rainlike this?"

But simple-minded Mac Strann lifted his head and peered through thethick curtains of rain. 

"D'you think, " he parried, "that Jerry could maybe look through all thisand see what I'm doin' to-day?"

It made Haw-Haw Langley grin, but peering more closely and observingthat there was no mockery in the face of the giant, he wiped out hisgrin with a scrubbing motion of his wet hand and peered closely into theface of his companion. 

"They ain't any doubt of it, " he said reassuringly. "He'll know what youdo, Mac. What was it that Pale Annie said to you?"

"Wanted me not to meet Barry. Said that Barry had once cleaned up agang of six. "

"And here we are only two. "

"You ain't to fight!" warned Mac Strann sharply. "It'll be man to man, Haw-Haw. "

"But he might not notice that, " cried Haw-Haw, and he caressed hisscrawny neck as though he already felt fingers closing about hiswindpipe. "Him bein' used to fight crowds, Mac. Did you think of that?"

"I never asked you to come, " responded Mac Strann. 

"Mac, " cried Haw-Haw in a sudden alarm, "s'pose you wasn't to win. S'pose you wasn't able to keep him away from me?"

The numb lips of Mac Strann sprawled in an ugly smile, but he made noother answer. 

"_You_ don't think you'll lose, " hurried on Haw-Haw, "but neither didthem six that Pale Annie was tellin' about, most like. But they did!They lost; but if you lose what'll happen to me?"

"They ain't no call for you to stay here, " said Mac Strann with utterindifference. 

Haw-Haw answered quickly: "I wouldn't go--I wouldn't miss it fornothin'. Ain't I come all this way to see it--I mean to help? Would Ifall down on you now, Mac? No, I wouldn't!"

And twisting those bony fingers together he burst once more into thatrattling, unhuman laughter which all the Three B's knew so well anddreaded as the dying dread the sight of the circling buzzard above. 

"Stop laughin'!" cried Mac Strann with sudden anger. "Damn you, stoplaughin'!"

The other peered upon Mac Strann with incredulous delight, his broadmouth gaping to that thirsted grin of enjoyment. 

"You ain't gettin' nervous, Mac?" he queried, and thrust his face closerto make sure. "You ain't bothered, Mac? You ain't doubtin' how this'llturn out?" There was no answer and so he replied to himself: "I knowwhat done it to you. I seen it myself. It was that yaller light in hiseyes, Mac. My God, it come up there out of nothin' and it wasn't a lightthat ought to come in no man's eyes. It was like I'd woke up at nightwith a cold weight on my chest and found two snakes' eyes glitterin'close to my face. Makes me shivery, like, jest to think of it now. D'younotice that, Mac?"

"I'm tired of talkin', " said Mac Strann hoarsely, "damned tired!"

And so saying he swung his great head slowly around and glared atHaw-Haw. The latter shrank away with an undulatory motion in his saddle. And when the head of Mac Strann turned away again the broad mouth begangibbering: "It's gettin' him like it done me. He's scared, scared, scared--even Mac Strann!"

He broke off, for Mac Strann had jerked up his head and said in astrangely muffled voice: "What was that?"

The bullet head of Haw-Haw Langley leaned to one side, and hisglittering eyes rolled up while he listened. 

"Nothin'!" he said, "I don't hear nothin'!"

"Listen again!" cried Mac Strann in that same cautious voice, as of onewhispering in the night in the house of the enemy. "It's like a voice inthe wind. It comes down the wind. D'ye hear now--now--now?"

It was, indeed, the faintest of faint sounds when Haw-Haw caught it. Itwas, in the roar of the rain, as indistinct as some distant light on thehorizon which may come either from a rising star or from the window of ahouse. But it had a peculiar quality of its own, even as the house-lightwould be tinged with yellow when the stars are cold and white. A smalland distant sound, and yet it cut through the crashing of the storm moreand more clearly; someone rode through the rain whistling. 

"It's him!" gasped Haw-Haw Langley. "My God A'mighty, Mac, he'swhistlin'! It ain't possible!"

He reined his horse closer to the wall, listening with mouth agape. 

He shrilled suddenly: "What if he should hit us both, seein' ustogether? They ain't no heart in a feller that can whistle in a stormlike this!"

But Mac Strann had lowered his head, bulldog-like, and now he listenedand thrust out his blunt jaw farther and farther and returned no answer. 

"God gimme the grit to stick it out, " begged Haw-Haw Langley in anagony of desire. "God lemme see how it comes out. God lemme watch 'emfight. One of 'em is goin' to die--may be two of 'em--nothin' like ithas ever been seen!"

The rain shifted, and the heart of the storm rolled far away. For themoment they could look far out across the shadow-swept hills, and out ofthe heart of the desolate landscape the whistling ran thrilling uponthem. It was so loud and close that of one accord the two listenersjerked their heads about and stared at each other, and then turned theireyes as hastily away, as though terrified by what they had seen--each inthe face of the other. It was no idle tune which they heard whistled. This was a rising, soaring pean of delight. It rang down upon thewind--it cut into their faces like the drops of the rain; it brandeditself like freezing cold into their foreheads. 

And then, upon the crest of the nearest hill, Haw-Haw Langley saw a dimfigure through the mist, a man on a horse and something else running infront; and they came swiftly. 

"It's the wolf that's runnin' us down!" screamed Haw-Haw Langley. "Oh, God A'mighty, even if we was to want to run, the wolf would come andpull us down. Mac, will you save me? Will you keep the wolf away?"

He clung to the arm of his companion, but the other brushed him backwith a violence which almost unseated Haw-Haw. 

"Keep off'n me, " growled Mac Strann, "because when you touch me, itfeels like somethin' dead was next to my skin. Keep off'n me!"

Haw-Haw dragged himself back into the saddle with effort, for it wasslippery with rain. His face convulsed with something black as hate. 

"It ain't long you'll do the orderin' and be so free with your hands. He's comin'--soon! Mac, I'd like to stay--I'd like to see thefinish----" he stopped, his buzzard eyes glittering against the face ofthe giant. 

The rain blotted out the figure of the coming horseman, and at the sameinstant the whistling leaped close upon them. It was as if the whistlingman had disappeared at the place where the rain swallowed his form, andhad taken body again at their very side. Mac Strann shrank back againstthe wall, bracing his shoulders, and gripped the butts of his guns. ButHaw-Haw Langley cast a frightened glance on either side; his head makingbirdlike, pecking notions, and then he leaned over the pommel of hissaddle with a wail of despair and spurred off into the rain. 

CHAPTER XL

THE ARROYO

He disappeared, instantly, in that shivering curtain of greyness. MacStrann sat by the ruined house alone. 

Now, in a time of danger a child will give courage to the strong man. There is a wonderful communion between any two in time of crisis; andwhen Haw-Haw Langley disappeared through the rain it was to Mac Strannas it was to Patroclus when Apollo struck the base of his neck and hisarmour of proof fell from him. Not only was there a singular sense ofnakedness, but it seemed to him also that the roaring of the rain becamea hostile voice of threatening at the same instant. 

He had never in his life feared any living thing. But now there was acertain hollowness in the region of his stomach, and his heart flutteredlike a bird in the air, with appalling lightness. And he wished to befar away. 

With a clear heaven above him--ay, that would be different, but God hadarranged this day and had set the earth like a stage in readiness for adeath. And that was why the rain lashed the earth so fiercely. He lookeddown. After his death the wind would still continue to beat that muddywater to foam. Ay, in that very place all would be as it was at thismoment. He would be gone, but the sky and the senseless earth wouldremain unchanged. A sudden yearning seized him for the cabin among themountains, with the singing of the coffee pot over the fire--the good, warm, yellow fire that smoked between the rocks. And the skins he hadleft leaning against the walls of the cabin to dry--he remembered themall in one glance of memory. 

Why was he here, then, when he should have been so far away, making hisroof snug against this torrent of rain. Now, there would be no rain, surely, in those kindly mountains. Their tall peaks would shut out thestorm clouds. Only this plain, these low hills, were the place of hell!

He swung the head of his horse to one side, drove deep the spurs, andleaning his head to the volleying of the rain he raced in a directionopposite to that in which Haw-Haw Langley had disappeared, in adirection that led as straight as the line of a flying bird towards thatcabin in the mountains. 

Now and then the forefeet of his great horse smashed into a pool andsent a muddy shower of rain flying up. It crackled against his slicker;it beat like hands against his face. Everything was striving--all theelements of wind and rain--to hold him back. 

Yet flight brought a blessed sense of relief and of safety. He eased thepace of his horse to a moderate gallop, and no longer driving blindlythrough the hills, he made out, by peering into the blast of rain, someof the pools which lay in his path, and swung aside to avoid them. 

The rain lightened again about him; he caught a view of the kindly, sheltering hills on all sides; but as he urged his horse on towards thema shrill flight of whistling fell upon his ears from behind. He drew hishorse at once to a halt and listened with his heart knocking at histeeth. 

It was impossible, manifestly, that the fellow could have followed histrack through the rain. For that matter, if the wolf-fiend could followtraces over a plain awash with water, why might they not as well followthe tracks of Haw-Haw Langley? There was no good reason. 

The whistling? Well, the whistler was far away in the heart of thestorm, and the sound was merely blown against the wind by a chance echo. Yet he remained holding his rein taut, and listening with all his might. 

It came again, suddenly as before, sharp, and keen as a shaft of lightin the blackest heart of night, and Mac Strann leaned over the pommel ofhis saddle with a groan, and drove the spurs home. At the same instantthe rain shut in over the hills again; a fresher wind sprang up anddrove the downpour into his face. Also its roar shut out the possibilityof any sound reaching him from behind. 

He was the worse for that. As long as the whistling might reach him hecould tell how near the pursuer rode; but in this common roar of therain the man might be at any distance behind him--on his very heels, indeed. Ay, Dan Barry might rush upon him from behind. He had seen thatblack stallion and he would never forget--those graceful, agile lines, that generous breast, wide for infinite wind and the great heart. If thestallion were exerted, it could overtake his own mount as if he werestanding still. Not on good footing, perhaps, but in this mucky groundthe weight of his horse was terribly against him. He drove the spurshome again; he looked back again and again, piercing the driving mist ofrain with starting eyes. He was safe still; the destroyer was not insight; yet he might be riding close behind that wall of rain. 

His horse came to a sudden halt, sliding on all four feet and driving upa rush of dirty water before him; even then he had stopped barely intime, for his forefeet were buried to the knees in water. Before MacStrann lay a wide arroyo. In ordinary weather it was dry as all thedesert around, but now it had cupped the water from miles around and ranbank full, a roaring torrent. On its surface the rain beat with acontinual crashing, like axes falling on brittle glass; and the downpourwas now so fearful that Mac Strann, for all his peering, could not lookto the other side. 

He judged the current to see if he might swim his horse across. But evenwhile he stared the stump of a cottonwood went whirling down the stream, struck a rock, perhaps, on the bottom, flung its entire bulk out of thewater with the impact, and then floundered back into the stream againand whirled instantly out of sight in the sheeted rain. 

No horse in the world could live through such a current. But the arroyomight turn. He swung his horse and spurred desperately along the bank, keeping his eye upon the bank. No, the stream cut back in a sharp curveand headed him farther and farther in the direction of the pursuer. Hebrought the mighty horse to another sliding halt and swung about in theopposite direction, for surely there must lie the point of escape. Desperately he rode, for the detour had cost him priceless time, yet itmight be made up. Ay, the stream sloped sharply into the direction inwhich he wished to ride. For a distance he could not judge, sinceseconds were longer than minutes to Mac Strann now. 

And then--the edge of the stream curved back again. He thought it mustbe a short twist in the line of the arroyo, but following it a littlefurther he came to realise the truth. The arroyo described a wide curve, and a sharp one, and to ride down its banks on either side was merely tothrow himself into the arms of Whistling Dan. 

Once he struck his fleshy forehead, and then turned with gritting teethand galloped back for the point at which he had first arrived. To hismaddened brain it occurred that the current of the arroyo might by thishave somewhat abated. He might now make his way across it. So he haltedonce more on the bank at the point where the stream doubled back on itscourse and once more, in an agony, studied the force of the current. Itseemed so placid at the first glance that he was on the verge ofspurring the horse into the wide, brown stream, but even as he loosenedthe reins a gap opened in the middle of the water, widened, whirling atthe brim, and drew swiftly into a fierce vortex with a black, deepbottom. Mac Strann tightened his reins again, and then turned his horse, and waited. 

Back the veriest coward against the wall and he becomes formidable, andMac Strann was one who had never feared before either man or beast orthe powers of the storm. Even now he dreaded no reality, but there dweltin his mind the memory of how Dan Barry had glared at him in the GileadSaloon, and how a flicker of yellow light had glowed in the man'seyes--a strange and phosphorescent glimmer that might be seen in thedarkness of night. When he turned the head of his horse away from thearroyo, he waited as one waits for the coming of a ghost. There was thesame chill tingling in his blood. 

Now the blanket of rain lifted and shook away to comparativeclearness--lifted, and for the first time he could look far away acrossthe plains. Nothing but grey, rain-washed desert met his eyes, and thenthe whistling broke once more upon him at the crest of a thrilling run. Mac Strann strained his eyes through the mist of the storm and then hesaw, vaguely as a phantom, the form of a horseman rushing swiftly intothe very teeth of the wind. The whistle wavered, ended, and in itsplace the long yell of a wolf cut the air. Mac Strann brandished aponderous fist in defiance that was half hysterical. Man or beast alonehe would meet--but a wolf-man!--he whirled the horse again and urged himheedlessly into the water. 

The whirlpool no longer opened before him--it had passed on down thearroyo and left in its wake a comparative calm. So that when the horsetook the water he made good progress for some distance, until Mac Stranncould see, clearly, the farther bank of the stream. In his joy heshouted to his horse, and swung himself clear from his saddle to lightenthe burden. At the same time they struck a heavier current and it struckthem down like a blow from above until the water closed over theirheads. 

It was only for a moment, however; then they emerged, the horse withcourageously pricking ears and snorting nostrils just above the flood. Mac Strann swung clear, gripping the horn of the saddle with one handwhile with the other he hastily divested himself of all superfluousweight. His slicker went first, ripped away from throat and shouldersand whipped off his body by one tug of the current. Next he fumbled athis belt and tossed this also, guns and all, away; striking out with hislegs and his free arm to aid the progress that now forged ahead withnoticeable speed. 

The current, to be sure, was carrying them farther down the stream, butthey were now almost to the centre of the arroyo and, though the waterboiled furiously over the back of the horse, they forged steadily closeand closer to the safe shore. 

It was chance that defeated Mac Strann. It came shooting down the riverand he saw it only an instant too late--a log whipping through thesurface of the stream as though impelled by a living force. And witharrowy straightness it lunged at them. Mac Strann heaved himselfhigh--he screamed at the horse as though the poor brute could understandhis warning, and then the tree-trunk was upon them. Fair and square itstruck the head of the horse with a thud audible even through therushing of the stream. The horse went down like lead, and Mac Strann wasdragged down beneath the surface. 

He came up fighting grimly and hopelessly for life. For he was in thevery centre of the stream, now, and the current swept him relentlesslydown. There seemed to be hands in the middle of the arroyo, and when hestrove to battle his way to the edge of the water the current tangled athis legs and pulled him back. Yet even then he did not fear. It wasdeath, he knew, but at least it was death fighting against a force ofnature rather than destruction at the hands of some weird and unhumanagency. His arms began to grow numb. He raised his head to pick out thenearest point on the shore and make his last struggle for life. 

What he saw was a black head cutting the water just above him, andbeside the horse, one hand upon the beast's mane, swam a man. At thesame instant a hand fastened on his collar and he was drawn slowlyagainst the force of the river. 

In the stunning surprise of the first moment he could make no effort tosave himself, and as a result, all three were washed hopelessly down thecurrent, but a shrill warning from his rescuer set him fighting againwith all the power of his great limbs. After that they forged steadilytowards the shore. The black horse swam with amazing strength, andbreaking the force of the current for the men, they soon passed from thefull grip of the torrent and forged into the smoother shallows at theside of the stream. In a moment firm land was beneath the feet of MacStrann, and he turned his dull eyes of amazement upon Dan Barry. Thelatter stood beside the panting black horse. He had not even thrown offhis slicker in the fording of the stream--there had been no time foreven that small delay if he wished to save Strann. And now he wasthrowing back the folds of the garment to leave free play for his arms. He panted from the fierce effort of the fording, but his head was high, a singular smile lingered about the corners of his mouth, and in hiseyes Mac Strann saw the gleam of yellow, a signal of unfathomabledanger. 

From his holsters Barry drew two revolvers. One he retained; the otherhe tossed towards Mac Strann, and the latter caught it automatically. 

"Now, " said the soft voice of Barry, "we're equally armed. --Down, Bart!----" (for the wolf-dog was slinking with ominous intent towardsthe giant) and there's the dog you shot. "If you drop me, you can sendyour next shot into Bart. If I drop you, the teeth of Bart will be inyour throat. Make your own terms; fight in the way you want; knives, ifyou like 'em better than guns, or----" and here the yellow flamedterribly in Barry's eyes--"bare hand to hand!"

The grim truth sank slowly home in the dull mind of Mac Strann. The manhad saved him from the water to kill him on dry land. 

"Barry, " he said slowly, "it was your bullet that brung down Jerry; butyou've paid me back here. They's nothin' left on earth worth fightin'for. There's your gun. "

And he threw the revolver into the mud at Barry's feet, turned on hisheel, and lumbered off into the rain. There was no voice of answerbehind him, except a shrill whine of rage from Black Bart and then asharp command: "Down!" from the master. As the blanket of rain shut overhim, Mac Strann looked back. There stood the strange man with the wolfcrouched at his feet, and the teeth of Bart were bared, and the hum ofhis horrible snarling carried to Strann through the beat of the rain. Mac Strann turned again, and plodded slowly through the storm. 

And Dan Barry? Twice men had stood before him, armed, and twice he hadfailed to kill. Wonder rose in him; wonder and a great fear. Was helosing the desert, and was the desert losing him? Were the chains ofhumanity falling about him to drag him down to a tamed and sordid life?A sudden hatred for all men, Mac Strann, Daniels, Kate, and even poorJoe Cumberland, welled hot in the breast of Whistling Dan. The strengthof men could not conquer him; but how could their very weakness disarmhim? He leaped again on the back of Satan, and rode furiously back intothe storm. 

CHAPTER XLI

THE FALLING OF NIGHT

It had been hard to gauge the falling of night on this day, and even thecareful eyes of the watchers on the Cumberland Ranch could not tell whenthe greyness of the sky was being darkened by the coming of the evening. All day there had been swift alterations of light and shadow, comparatively speaking, as the clouds grew thin or thick before thewind. But at length, indubitably, the night was there. Little by littlethe sky was overcast, and even the lines of the falling rain were nolonger visible. Before the gloom of the darkness had fully settled overthe earth, moreover, there came a change in the wind, and the watchersat the rain-beaten windows of the ranch-house saw the clouds roll apartand split into fragments that were driven from the face of the sky; andfrom the clean washed face of heaven the stars shone down bright andserene. And still Dan Barry had not come. 

After the tumult of that long day the sudden silence of that windlessnight had more ill omen in it than thunder and lightning. For there issomething watching and waiting in silence. In the living room the threedid not speak. 

Now that the storm was gone they had allowed the fire to fall awayuntil the hearth showed merely fragmentary dances of flame and a widebed of dull red coals growing dimmer from moment to moment. Wung Lu hadbrought in a lamp--a large lamp with a circular wick that cast a bright, white light--but Kate had turned down the wick, and now it made only abrief circle of yellow in one corner of the room. The main illuminationcame from the fireplace and struck on the faces of Kate and BuckDaniels, while Joe Cumberland, on the couch at the end of the room, wasonly plainly visible when there was an extraordinarily high leap of thedying flames; but usually his face was merely a glimmering hint in thedarkness--his face and the long hands which were folded upon his breast. Often when the flames leapt there was a crackling of the embers and thelast of the log, and then the two nearer the fire would start and flasha glance, of one accord, towards the prostrate figure on the couch. 

That silence had lasted so long that when at length the dull voice ofJoe Cumberland broke in, there was a ring of a most prophetic solemnityabout it. 

"He ain't come, " said the old man. "Dan ain't here. "

The others exchanged glances, but the eyes of Kate dropped sadly andfastened again upon the hearth. 

Buck Daniels cleared his throat like an orator. 

"Nobody but a fool, " he said, "would have started out of Elkhead in astorm like this. "

"Weather makes no difference to Dan, " said Joe Cumberland. 

"But he'd think of his hoss----"

"Weather makes no difference to Satan, " answered the faint, oracularvoice of Joe Cumberland. "Kate!"

"Yes?"

"Is he comin'?"

She did not answer. Instead, she got up slowly from her place by thefire and took another chair, far away in the gloom, where hardly aglimmer of light reached to her and there she let her head rest, as ifexhausted, against the back of the seat. 

"He promised, " said Buck Daniels, striving desperately to keep his voicecheerful, "and he never busts his promises. "

"Ay, " said the old man, "he promised to be back--but he ain't here. "

"If he started after the storm, " said Buck Daniels. 

"He didn't start after the storm, " announced the oracle. "He was out init. "

"What was that, " cried Buck Daniels sharply. 

"The wind, " said Kate, "for it's rising. It will be a cold night, to-night. "

"And he ain't here, " said the old man monotonously. 

"Ain't there things that might hold him up?" asked Buck, with a touch ofirritation. 

"Ay, " said the old rancher, "they's things that'll hold him up. They'sthings that'll turn a dog wild, too, and the taste of blood is one of'em!"

The silence fell again. 

There was an old clock standing against the wall. It was one of thosetall, wooden frames in which, behind the glass, the heavy, polished diskof the pendulum, alternated slowly back and forth with wearisomeprecision. And with every stroke of the seconds there was a faint, metallic clangor in the clock--a falter like that which comes in thevoice of a very old man. And the sound of this clock took possession ofevery silence until it seemed like the voice of a doomsman counting offthe seconds. Ay, everyone in the room, again and again, took up the taleof those seconds and would count them slowly--fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three--and on and on, waiting for the next speech, orfor the next popping of the wood upon the hearth, or for the next wailof the wind that would break upon the deadly expectancy of that count. And while they counted each looked straight before him with wide andwidening eyes. 

Into one of these pauses the voice of Buck Daniels broke at length; andit was a cheerless and lonely voice in that large room, in the dulldarkness, and the duller lights. 

"D'you remember Shorty Martin, Kate?"

"I remember him. "

He turned in his chair and hitched it a little closer to her until hecould make put her face, dimly, among the shadows. The flames jumped onthe hearth, and he saw a picture that knocked at his heart. 

"The little bow-legged feller, I mean. "

"Yes, I remember him very well. "

Once more the flames sputtered and he saw how she looked wistfullybefore her and above. She had never seemed so lovely to Buck Daniels. She was pale, indeed, but there was no ugly pinching of her face, and ifthere were shadows beneath her eyes, they only served to make her eyesseem marvelously large and bright. She was pallid, and the firelightstained her skin with touches of tropic gold, and cast a halo of thegolden hair about her face. She seemed like one of those statues wroughtin the glory and the rich days of Athens in ivory and in gold--somegoddess who has heard the tidings of the coming fall, the change of theold order, and sits passive in her throne waiting the doom from whichthere is no escape. Something of this filtered through to the sad heartof Buck Daniels. He, too, had no hope--nay, he had not even her smallhope, but somehow he was able to pity her and cherish the picture of herin that gloomy place. It seemed to Buck Daniels that he would give tenyears from the best of his life to see her smile as he had once seen herin those old, bright days. He went on with his tale. 

"You would have busted laughin' if you'd seen him at the Circle Y Barroundup the way I seen him. Shorty ain't so bad with a rope. He's alwaystalkin' about what he can do and how he can daub a rope on anythingthat's got horns. He ain't so bad, but then he ain't so good, either. Specially, he ain't so good at ridin'--you know what bowed legs he'sgot, Kate?"

"I remember, Buck. "

She was looking at him, at last, and he talked eagerly to turn that lookinto a smile. 

"Well, they was the three of us got after one two year old--a bull and abad 'un. Shorty was on one side and me and Cuttle was on the other side. Shorty daubed his rope and made a fair catch, but when his hoss set backthe rope busted plumb in two. Now, Shorty, he had an idea that he couldease the work of his hoss a whole pile if he laid holts on the ropewhenever his hoss set down to flop a cow. So Shorty, he had holt on thisrope and was pulling back hard when the rope busted, and Shorty, hespilled backwards out'n that saddle like he'd been kicked out. 

"Whilst he was lyin' there, the bull, that had took a header when therope busted, come up on his feet agin, and I'll tell a man he was rarin'mad! He seen Shorty lyin' on the ground, and he took a run for Shorty. Me and Cuttle was laughin' so hard we couldn't barely swing our ropes, but I made a throw and managed to get that bull around both horns. So myBetty sits down and braces herself for the tug. 

"In the meantime little Shorty, he sits up and lays a hand to his head, and same time he sees that bull come tarin' for him. Up he jumps. Andjest then the bull come to the end of the line and wonk!--down he goes, head over heels, and hits the sand with a bang that must of jostled hisliver some, I'll be sayin'!

"Well, Shorty, he seen that bull fly up into the air and he lets out ayell like the world was comin' to an end, and starts runnin'. If he'drun straight back the other way the bull couldn't of run a step, becauseI had him fast with my rope, but Shorty seen me, and he come tarin' formy hoss to get behind him. 

"That bull was like a cat gettin' to his feet, and he sights Shortytarin' and lights out after him. There they went lickety-split. Thatbull was puffin' on the seat of Shorty's trowsers and tossin' his hornsand jest missin' Shorty by inches; and Shorty had his mouth so wide openhollerin' that you could have throwed a side of beef down his throat;and his eyes was buggin' out. Them bow-legs of his was stretchin' tenyards at a clip, most like, and the boys says they could hear himhollerin' a mile away. But that bull, stretch himself all he could, couldn't gain an inch on Shorty, and Shorty couldn't gain an inch on thebull, till the bull come to the other end of the forty-foot rope, andthen, whang! up goes the heels of the bull and down goes his head, andhis heels comes over--wonk! and hits Shorty right square on the head. 

"Been an ordinary feller, and he wouldn't of lived to talk about itafterwards, but seein' it was Shorty, he jest goes up in the air andlands about ten yards away, and rolls over and hits his feet withoutonce gettin' off his stride--and then he _did_ start runnin', and hedidn't stop runnin' nor hollerin' till he got plumb back to the house!"

Buck Daniels sat back in his chair and guffawed at the memory. In theexcitement of the tale he had quite forgotten Kate, but when heremembered her, she sat with her head craned a little to one side, herhand raised for silence, and a smile, indeed, upon her lips, but never aglance for Buck Daniels. He knew at once. 

"Is it him?" he whispered. "D'you hear him?"

"Hush!" commanded two voices, and then he saw that old Joe Cumberlandalso was listening. 

"No, " said the girl suddenly, "it was only the wind. "

As if in answer, a far, faint whistling broke upon them. She drew herhands slowly towards her breast, as if, indeed, she drew the sound inwith them. 

"He's coming!" she cried. "Oh, Dad, listen! Don't you hear?"

"I do, " answered the rancher, "but what I'm hearin' don't warm my bloodnone. Kate, if you're wise you'll get up and go to your room and don'tpay no heed to anything you might be hearin' to-night. "

CHAPTER XLII

THE JOURNEY INTO NIGHT

There was no doubting the meaning of Joe Cumberland. It grew upon themwith amazing swiftness, as if the black stallion were racing upon thehouse at a swift gallop, and the whistling rose and rang and soared in awild outburst. Give the eagle the throat of the lark, and after he hasstruck down his prey in the centre of the sky and sent the raggedfeathers and the slain body falling down to earth, what would be thesong of the eagle rising again and dwindling out of sight in the heartof the sky? What terrible pean would he send whistling down to the dullearth far below? And such was the music that came before the coming ofDan Barry. It did not cease, as usual, at a distance, but it came closerand closer, and it swelled around them. Buck Daniels had risen from hischair and stolen to a corner of the room where not a solitary shaft oflight could possibly reach him; and Kate Cumberland slipped farther intothe depths of the big chair. 

So that, in their utter silence, in spite of the whistling that blew inupon them, they could hear the dull ticking of the tall clock, and by awretched freak of fate the ticking fell exactly in with the soaringrhythm of the whistle and each had a part in the deadliness of theother. 

Very near upon them the music ceased abruptly. A footfall swept down thehall, a weight struck the door and cast it wide, and Black Bart glidedinto the room. He cast not a glance on either side. He turned his headneither to right nor to left. But he held straight on until he came toKate Cumberland and there he stood before her. 

She leaned forward. 

"Bart!" she said softly and stretched out her hands to him. 

A deep snarl stopped the gesture, and at the flash of the long fangs shesank into the chair. Old Joe Cumberland, with fearful labour, draggedhimself to a sitting position upon the couch, and sitting up in thisfashion the light fell fully upon his white face and his white hair andhis white beard, so that he made a ghostly picture. 

Then an outer door slammed and a light step, at an almost running pacespeeded down the hall, the door was swung wide again, and Dan was beforethem. He seemed to bring with him the keen, fresh air of the light, andat the opening of the door the flame in the lamp jumped in its chimney, shook, and fell slowly back to its original dimness; but by that glow oflight they saw that the sombrero upon Dan Barry's head was a shapelessmass--his bandana had been torn away, leaving his throat bare--hisslicker was a mass of rents and at the neck had been crumpled and tornin a thousand places as though strong teeth had worried it to a rag. Spots of mud were everywhere on his boots, even on his sombrero with itssagging brim, and on one side of his face there was a darker stain. Hehad ceased his whistling, indeed, but now he stood at the door andhummed as he gazed about the room. Straight to Kate Cumberland hewalked, took her hands, and raised her from the chair. 

He said, and there was a fibre and ring in his voice that made themcatch their breaths: "There's something outside that I'm followingto-night. I don't know what it is. It is the taste of the wind and thefeel of the air and the smell of the ground. And I've got to be ridin'. I'm saying good-bye for a bit, Kate. "

"Dan, " she cried, "what's happened? What's on your face?"

"The mark of the night, " he answered. "I don't know what else. Will youcome with me, Kate?"

"For how long? Where are you going, Dan!"

"I don't know where or how long. All I know is I've got to be going. Come to the window. Take the air on your face. You'll understand!"

He drew her after him and cast up the window. 

"Do you feel it in the wind" he called to her, turning with atransfigured face. "Do you hear it?"

She could not speak but stood with her face lifted, trembling. 

"Look at me!" he commanded, and turned her roughly towards him. There hestood leaning close to her, and the yellow light flickered and wanedand burned again in his eyes. 

He had held her hands while he stared. Now he dropped them with anexclamation. 

"You're blank, " he said angrily. "You've seen nothing and heardnothing. "

He turned on his heel. 

"Bart!" he called, and walked from the room, and they heard the paddingof his soft step down the hall and on the porch and then--silence. 

Black Bart slunk to the door and into the hall, but instantly he wasback and peering into the gloom of the silent place like an evil-eyedspectre. 

A sharp whistle rang from outside, and Black Bart started. Still heglided on until he stood before Kate; then turned and stalked slowlytowards the door, looking back after her. She did not move, and with asnarl the wolf-dog whirled again and trotted back to her. This time hecaught a fold of her skirt in his teeth and pulled on it. And under thepressure she made a step. 

"Kate!" called Joe Cumberland. "Are you mad, girl, to dream of goin' outin a night like this?"

"I'm not going!" she answered hurriedly. "I'm afraid--and I won't leaveyou, Dad!"

She had stopped as she spoke, but Black Bart, snarling terribly, threwhis weight back, and dragged her a step forward. 

"Buck, " cried old Joe Cumberland and he dragged himself up and stoodtottering. "Shoot the damned wolf--for God's sake--for my sake!"

Still the wolf-dog drew the girl in that snarling progress towards thedoor. 

"Kate!" cried her father, and the agony in his voice made it young andsent it ringing through the room. "Will you go out to wander betweenheaven and hell--on a night like this?"

"I'm not going!" she answered, "I won't leave you--but oh--Dad!----"

He opened his lips for a fresh appeal, but the chorus of the wild geeseswept in upon the wind, blown loud and clear and jangling as distantbells out of tune. And Kate Cumberland buried her face in her hands andstumbled blindly out of the room and down the hall--and then they heardthe wild neighing of a horse outside. 

"Buck!" commanded Joe Cumberland. "He's stealin' my girl--my Kate--goout! call up the boys--tell'em to stop Dan from saddlin' a horse forKate----"

"Wait and listen!" cut in Buck Daniels. "D'you hear that?"

On the wet ground outside they heard a patter of galloping hoofs, andthen a wild whistling, sweet and keen and high, came ringing back tothem. It diminished rapidly with the distance. 

"He's carryin' her off on Satan!" groaned Joe Cumberland, staggering ashe tried to step forward. "Buck, call out the boys. Even Satan can'tbeat my hosses when he's carryin' double--call'em out--if you bring herback----"

His voice choked and he stumbled and would have fallen to his knees hadnot Buck Daniels sprang forward and caught him and carried him back tothe couch. 

"What's happened there ain't no man can stop, " said Buck hoarsely. "God's work or devil's work--I dunno--but I know there ain't no placefor a man between Dan and Kate. "

"Turn up the lights, " commanded Joe Cumberland sharply. "Got to see; Igot to think. D'you hear?"

Buck Daniels ran to the big lamp and turned up the wick. At once a clearlight flooded every nook of the big room and showed all its emptiness. 

"Can't you make the lamp work?" asked the old ranchman angrily. "Ain'tthey any oil in it? Why, Buck, they ain't enough light for me to seeyour face, hardly. But I'll do without the light. Buck, how far willthey go? Kate's a good girl! She won't leave me, lad!"

"She won't, " agreed Buck Daniels. "Jest gone with Dan for a bit of acanter. "

"The devil was come back in his eyes, " muttered the old man. "God knowswhere he's headin' for! Buck, I brought him in off'n the range and madehim a part of my house. I took him into my heart; and now he's gone outagain and taken everything that I love along with him. Buck, why did hego?"

"He'll come back, " said the big cowpuncher softly. 

"It's gettin' darker and darker, " said Joe Cumberland, "and they's akind of ringing in my ears. Talk louder. I don't hear you none toowell. "

"I said they was comin' back, " said Buck Daniels. 

Something like a light showed on the face of Joe Cumberland. 

"Ay, lad, " he said eagerly, "I can hear Dan's whistlin' comin'back--nearer and nearer. Most like he was jest playin' a joke on me, eh, Buck?"

"Most like, " said Buck, brokenly. 

"Ay, there it's ringin' at the door of the house! Was that a footstep onthe hall?"

"It was, " said Buck. "They's comin' down the hall!"

But far, far away he heard the whistling of Dan Barry dying among thehills. 

"You let the lamp go out, " said Joe Cumberland, "and now I can't seenothing. Are they in the room?"

"They're here, " said Buck Daniels, "comin' towards you now. "

"Dan!" cried the old man, shading his eyes and peering anxiously--"no, Ican't see a thing. Can you find me, lad?"

And Buck Daniels, softening his voice as much as he could, answered. "Ican find you. "

"Then gimme your hand. "

Buck Daniels slipped his own large hand into the cold fingers of thedying cattleman. An expression of surpassing joy lay on the face of JoeCumberland. 

"Whistlin' Dan, my Dan, " he murmured faintly, "I'm kind of sleepy, butbefore I go to sleep, to-night, I got to tell you that I forgive you foryour joke--pretendin' to take Kate away. "

"They's nothin' but sleep worth while--and goin' to sleep, holdin' yourhand, lad--"

Buck Daniels dropped upon his knees and stared into the wide, dead eyes. Through the open window a sound of whistling blew to him. It was asweet, faint music, and being so light it seemed like a chorus ofsinging voices among the mountains, for it was as pure and as sharp asthe starlight. 

Buck Daniels lifted his head to listen, but the sound faded, and themurmur of the night-wind came between. 

THE END