The help which Lee Haines wanted, it turned out, was guidance across a difficult stretch of country which he and Buck¹ Daniels wanted to prospect², and while he talked Barry listened uneasily. It was constitutionally impossible for him to say no when a favor was asked of him, and Haines counted heavily on that characteristic; in the meantime Black Bart lay on the hearth³ with his wistful eyes turned steadily⁴ up to the master; and Buck Daniels went to Kate on the farther side of the room. She sat quivering, alternately crushing and soothing⁵ Joan with the strength of her caresses⁶. Buck drew a chair close, with his back half towards the fire.  
“Turn around a little, Kate,” he cautioned. “Don't let Dan see your face.”
 
She obeyed him automatically.
 
“Is there a hope, Buck? What have I done to deserve this? I don't want to live; I want to die! I want to die!”
 
“Steady, steady!” he cut in, and his face was working. “If you keep on like this you'll bust⁷ down in a minute or two. And you know what tears do to Dan; he'll be out of this house like a scairt coyote. Brace⁸ up!”
 
She struggled and won a partial control.
 
“I'm fighting hard, Buck.”
 
“Fight harder still. You ought to know him better than I do. When he's like this it drives him wild to have other folks thinkin' about him.”
 
He looked over to Dan. In spite of the bowed head of the latter as he listened to Haines yarning⁹ he gave an impression of electric awareness¹⁰ to all that was around him.
 
“Talk soft,” whispered Buck. “Maybe he knows we're talkin' about him.”
 
He raised his voice out of the whisper, breaking in on a sentence about Joan, as if this were the tenor¹¹ of their talk. Then he lowered his tone again.
 
“Think quick. Talk soft. Do you want Dan kept here?”
 
“For God's sake, yes.”
 
“Suppose the posse gets him here?”
 
“We musn't dodge¹² the law.”
 
They were gauging¹³ their voices with the closest precision. Talking like this so close to Barry was like dancing among flasks¹⁴ of nitroglycerine. Once, and once only, Lee Haines cast a desperate eye across to them, begging them to come to his rescue, then he went back to his talk with Dan, raising his voice to shelter the conference of the other two.
 
“If they come, he'll fight.”
 
“No, he isn't at the fighting pitch yet, I know!”
 
“If you're wrong they'll be dead men here.”
 
“He sees no difference between the death of a horse and the death of a man. He feels that the law has no score against him. He'll go quietly.”
 
“And we'll find ways of fightin' the law?”
 
“Yes, but it needs money.”
 
“I've got a stake.”
 
“God bless you, Buck.”
 
“Take my advice.”
 
“What?”
 
“Let him go now.”
 
She glanced at him wildly.
 
“Kate, he's gone already.”
 
“No, no, no!”
 
“I say he's gone. Look at his eyes.”
 
“I don't dare.”
 
“The yaller is comin' up in 'em. He's wild again.” She shook her head in mute agony. Buck Daniels groaned¹⁵, softly.
 
“Then they's goin' to be a small-sized hell started around this cabin before mornin'.”
 
He got up and went slowly back towards the fire. Lee Haines was talking steadily, leisurely¹⁶, going round and round his subject again and again, and Barry listened with bowed head, but his eyes were fixed¹⁷ upon those of the wolf-dog at his feet. When he grew restless, Haines chained him to the chair with some direct question, yet it was a hard game to play. All this time the posse might be gathering¹⁸ around the cabin; and the forehead of Haines whitened and glistened¹⁹ with sweat. His voice was the only living thing in the cabin, after a time,

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