News of the Killing¹ at Alder², as they call that night's slaughter³ to this day in the mountain-desert, traveled swiftly, and lost nothing of bulk and burden on the way; so that two days later, when Lee Haines went down for mail to the wretched little village in the valley, he heard the store-keeper retailing⁴ the story to an awe-stricken group. How the tale had crossed all the wild mountains which lay between in so brief a space no man could say, but first there ran a whisper and then a stir, and then half a dozen men came in at once, each with an elaboration of the theme more horrible than the last. The store-keeper culled⁵ the choicest fragments from every version, strung them together with a narrative⁶ of his own fertile invention, polished off the tale by a few rehearsals⁷ in his home, and then placed his product on the open market. The very first day he kept the store-room well filled from dawn until dark.  
And this was the creation to which Lee Haines had to listen, impatient, sifting⁸ the chaff⁹ from the grains of truth. Down upon Alder, exactly at midnight, had ridden a cavalcade¹⁰ headed by that notorious, half-legendary man-slayer, Dan Barry—Whistling Dan. While his crew of two-score hardened ruffians held the doors and the windows with leveled rifles, Barry had entered with a gun and a wolf—a wild wolf, and had butchered ten men, wantonly. To add to the mystery, there was no motive¹¹ of robbery for the crime. One sweeping¹³ visitation of death, and then the night-riders had rushed away. Nor was this all, for Sheriff Pete Glass, hearing of the tragedy, had ridden to Rickett, the county seat, and from this strategic point of vantage he was sending out a call for the most practised fighters on the mountain-desert. He wanted twenty men proved beyond the shadow of question for courage, endurance, speed, and surety in action.
 
“And,” concluded the store-keeper, fixing his eye upon Lee Haines, “if you want a long ride free of charge, and ten bucks¹⁵ a day with chow thrown in—some of you gents ought to go to Rickett and chin with Pete.”
 
Haines waited to hear no more. He even forgot to ask for the Barry mail, swung into his saddle, and rode with red spurs back to the cabin in the mountains. There he drew Buck¹⁴ Daniels aside, and they walked among the rocks while Haines told his story. When it was ended they sat on adjoining boulders¹⁶ and chucked pebbles¹⁷ aimlessly into the emptiness beyond the cliff.
 
“Maybe,” said Buck suddenly, “it wasn't Dan at all. He sure wouldn't be ridin' with no crowd of gents like that.”
 
“A fool like that store-keeper could make a crowd of Indians out of one papoose,” answered Haines. “It was Dan. Who else would be traipsing around with a dog that looks like a wolf—and hunts men?”
 
“I remember when Dan cornered Jim Silent in that cabin, and all Jim's gang was with him. Black Bart—”
 
“Buck,” cut in Haines, “you've remembered plenty.”
 
After a moment: “When are you going in to break the news to Kate?”
 
Buck Daniels regarded him with angry astonishment¹⁸.
 
“Me?” he cried. “I'd sooner cut my tongue out!” He drew a great breath. “I feel like—like Dan was dead!”
 
“The best thing for Kate if he were.”
 
“That's a queer thing to say, Lee. The meat would be rotted off your bones six years ago in Elkhead if it hadn't been for Whistlin' Dan.”
 
“I know it, Buck. But I'll tell you straight that I could never feel towards Dan as if he were a human being, but a wolf in the hide of a man. He turned my blood cold; he always has.”
 
Buck Daniels groaned¹⁹ aloud as thoughts poured back on him.
 
“Of all the pals²⁰ that ever a man had,” he said sadly, “there never was a partner like Whistlin' Dan. There was never another gent that would go through hell for you jest because you'd eaten meat with him. The first time I met him I tried to double-cross him, because I had my orders from Silent. And Dan played clean with me—by God, he shook hands with me when he left.”
 
He straightened a little.
 
“So help me God, Lee, I've never done a crooked²¹ thing more since I shook hands with Dan that day.” He sat silent, but breathing hard. “Well, this is the end of Whistlin' Dan. The law will never let up on him now; but I tell you, Haines, I'm sick inside and I'd give my right hand plumb²² to the wrist to set him straight and bring him back to Kate............