ate the ticking fell exactly in with the soaring
rhythm of the whistle and each had a part in the deadliness of the
other.

Very near upon them the music ceased abruptly. A footfall swept down the
hall, a weight struck the door and cast it wide, and Black Bart glided
into the room. He cast not a glance on either side. He turned his head
neither to right nor to left. But he held straight on until he came to
Kate 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 she
sank into the chair. Old Joe Cumberland, with fearful labour, dragged
himself to a sitting position upon the couch, and sitting up in this
fashion the light fell fully upon his white face and his white hair and
his white beard, so that he made a ghostly picture.

Then an outer door slammed and a light step, at an almost running pace
speeded down the hall, the door was swung wide again, and Dan was before
them. He seemed to bring with him the keen, fresh air of the light, and
at 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 of
light they saw that the sombrero upon Dan Barry's head was a shapeless
mass--his bandana had been torn away, leaving his throat bare--his
slicker was a mass of rents and at the neck had been crumpled and torn
in 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 its
sagging brim, and on one side of his face there was a darker stain. He
had ceased his whistling, indeed, but now he stood at the door and
hummed as he gazed about the room. Straight to Kate Cumberland he
walked, took her hands, and raised her from the chair.

He said, and there was a fibre and ring in his voice that made them
catch their breaths: "There's something outside that I'm following
to-night. I don't know what it is. It is the taste of the wind and the
feel 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 you
come 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.