They knew what it meant; even Joan had heard the cry of the lone¹ wolf hunting in the lean time of winter, and of all things sad, all things lonely, all things demoniacal, the howl of a wolf stands alone. Lee Haines reached for his gun, little Joan stood up silent on the hearth², but Kate and Buck³ Daniels sat listening with a sort of hungry terror, as the cry sobbed⁵ away to quiet. Then out of the mountains and the night came an answer so thin, so eerie⁶, one might have said it was the voice of the mountains and white stars grown audible; it stole on the ear as the pulse of a heart comes to the consciousness.  
Truly it was an answer to the cry of the wolf-dog, for in the slender compass it carried the same wail⁷, the same unearthly quality with this great difference, that a thrilling happiness went through it, as if some one walked through the mountains and rejoiced in the unknown terrors. A sob⁴ formed in the throat of Kate and the wolf turned its head and looked at her, and the yellow of things that see in the night swam in its eyes. Lee Haines struck the arm of Buck Daniels.
 
“Buck, let's get clear of this. Let's start. He's coming.”
 
At the whisper Buck turned a livid face; one could see him gather his strength.
 
“I stick,” he said with difficulty, as though his lips were numb⁸. “She'll need me now.”
 
Lee Haines stood in a moment's indecision but then settled back in his chair and gripped his hands together. They both sat watching the door as if the darkness were a magnet of inescapable horror. Only Joan, of all in that room, showed no fear after the first moment. Her face was blanched⁹ indeed, but she tilted¹⁰ it up now, smiling; she stole towards the door, but Kate caught the child and gathered her close with strangling force. Joan made no attempt to escape. “S-sh!” she cautioned, and raised a plump little forefinger¹¹. “Munner, don't you hear? Don't you like it?”
 
As if the sound had turned a corner, it broke all at once clearly over them in a rain of music; a man's whistling. It went out; it flooded about them again like beautiful, cold light. Once again it stopped, and now they sensed, rather than heard, a light, rapid, padding step that approached the cabin. Dan Barry stood in the door and in that shadowy place his eyes seemed luminous¹². He no longer whistled, but a spirit went from him which carried the same sense of the untamed, the wild happiness which died out with his smile as he looked around the room. The brim of his hat curved up, his neckerchief seemed to flutter a little. The wolf-dog reached the threshold in the same instant and stood looking steadily¹³ up into the face of the master.
 
“Daddy Dan!” cried Joan.
 
She had slipped from the nerveless arms of Kate and now ran towards her father, but here she faltered¹⁴, there she stopped with her arms slowly falling back to her sides. He did not seem to see her, but looked past her, far beyond every one in the room as he walked to the wall and took down a bridle¹⁵ that hung on a peg¹⁶. Kate laid her hands on the arms of the chair, but after the first effort to rise, her strength failed.
 
“Dan!” she said. It was only a whisper, a heart-stopping sound. “Dan!” Her voice rang, then her arms gathered to her, blindly, Joan, who had shrunk back. “What's happened?”
 
“Molly died.”
 
“Died.”
 
“They broke her leg.”
 
“The posse!”
 
“With a long shot.”
 
“What are you going to do!”
 
“Get Satan. Go for a ride.”
 
“Where?”
 
He looked about him, troubled, and then frowned. “I dunno. Out yonder.”
 
He waved his arm. Black Bart followed the turn of the master's body, and switching around in front continued to stare up into Dan's face.
 
“You're going back after the posse?”
 
“No, I'm done with them.”
 
“What do you mean?”
 
“They paid for Grey Molly.”
 
“You shot one of their—horses?”
 
“A man.”
 
“God help us!” Then life came to her; she sprang up and ran between him and the door. “You shan't go. If you love me!” She was only inches from Black Bart, and the big animal showed his teeth in silent hate.
 
“Kate, I'm goin'. Don't stand in the door.”
 
Joan, slipping around Bart, stood clinging to the skirts of her mother and watched the face of Dan, fascinated, silent.
&nbs............