The entrance of the puppy, to liken small things to great, was the coming of Blucher in Kate's life, for the battle turned, and all in five minutes she had gone from defeat to victory. She sat by the fire with Joan sleeping in her arms, and the puppy in turn in the arms of Joan. It was such a foolish trick of chance that had given her all this, she was almost inclined to laugh, but something of tragedy in the faces of Buck¹ and Lee Haines made her thoroughly² serious. And she readily saw the truth for after all a child's brain is a small affair; it holds so much and no more. One instant the longing³ for Dan was all that Joan could think of; the next she had no room for anything more than the burned nose of the puppy—if there were other phases to this matter—such as Buck Daniels had pointed⁴ out—fear that in some future crisis the blood of the father might show in the child, Kate pushed such thoughts away. She was too full of the present happiness.  
Now, while she sat there in the firelight, she sang softly into the dreams of Joan, and watched the smile of sleep grow and wane⁵ faintly on the lips of the child as the rhythm of her singing lifted and fell. One half of her mind was empty, that part where Dan should have been, and a dozen times she checked an impulse to turn to him in the place where he should be sitting and invite him with a smile to share her happiness. When her eyes moved they only fell on the gaunt, intent face of Buck or the leonine head of Haines. Whistling Dan was gone and if he ever came again her fear of him, her fear for Joan, would be greater than her love. Yet Dan being gone so finally, she knew that she would never be truly happy again. Her spring of life was ended, but even now she was grateful for the full richness of those six years with Dan; and if she turned from him now it was only because a mighty⁶ instinct commanded her and a voice without words drove her—Joan must go on to a normal, womanly happiness. Dan Barry lived from day to day, glutting⁷ himself with a ride in the wind, or the whistle of a far-off bird, or the wail⁸ of a mountain-lion through the night. Each instant was to him complete, but the eye of Kate looked far away and saw the night when this daughter of hers should sit holding an infant by such a fire, and her heart was both empty and full.
 
It was no wonder, then, that she heard the first sound long before either Haines or Buck Daniels, for her mind was on guard against dangers which might threaten her baby. It was a faint slipping, scratching noise on the veranda⁹; then a breathing at the front door. Kate turned, and the men followed the terror of her eyes in time to see the door fall open, and a broad paw appear in the interval¹⁰. The snaky head of Black Bart thrust into the room.
 
Without a word, Daniels drew his gun.
 
“Wait!” commanded Kate. Joan awoke with a start at the sharpness of this voice. “Don't shoot, Buck. See that bit of paper under his throat. He's bringing a message.”
 
“Bart!” cried Joan, slipping to the floor from her mother's lap, but when she ran toward the wolf-dog, that tremendous snarl¹¹ of warning stopped her short. Bart slunk toward Kate.
 
“Look out, Kate!” cried Haines. “The black devil means murder.”
 
“Don't move, or he'll go at your throat,” she answered. “There's no danger to me. He's been ordered to go to me and he won't let even Joan touch him. See!”
 
He had glided¹² past the amazed, outstretched arms of Joan and went straight to Kate and stopped beside her, obviously expectant. She reached for the slip of folded paper, and as her hand approached he crouched¹³ a little, growling¹⁴; but it was only to caution her, apparently¹⁵, and though he distrusted the hand, he allowed it to unfasten the missive.
 
She untwisted the note, she read aloud: “Kate, send Joan back to me or I come for her. Send her with Bart.”
 
It seemed as though the wolf-dog understood the written words, for now he moved toward Joan and she, with a cry, dropped the squealing¹⁶ puppy and caught the great head of Bart in her arms. The puppy wailed¹⁷, sitting down on his haunches, and quivering with grief.
 
“Daddy Dan wants me,” explained Joan with bright eyes. “He's sent for me. Go quick, Bart!”
 
The big animal lay down to facilitate her mounting.
 
“Joan!” called Kate. The child hesitated and turned toward her. Her mother had taken up that light revol............