inged inwardly at the sight; all wild
things which hated man instinctively with tooth and claw were the
friends, the allies of Whistling Dan, and now Joan was stepping in her
father's path. A little while longer and the last vestige of gentleness
would pass from her. She would be like Dan Barry, following calls which
no other human could even hear. It meant one thing: at whatever cost,
Joan must be taken from Dan and kept Away.

"Jackie sleeps near me," Joan was saying. "We can see in the dark, can't
we, Jackie?"

She lifted her head, and the moment her compelling eyes left him, Jackie
scooted for shelter. The first strangeness had worn away from Joan and
she began to chatter away about life in the cave, and how Satan played
there by the firelight with Black Bart, and how, sometimes--wonderful
sight!--Daddy Dan played with them. The recital was quite endless,
as they pushed farther and farther into the shadows, and it was the
uneasiness which the dim light raised in her that made Kate determine
that the time had come to go home.

"Now," she said, "we're going for that walk."

"Not away down there!" cried Joan.

Kate winced.

"It's lots nicer here, munner. You'd ought to just see what we have to
eat! And my, Daddy Dan knows how to fix things."

"Of course he does. Now put on your hat and your cloak, Joan."

"This is lots warmer, munner."

"Don't you like it?" she added in alarm, stroking the delicate fur.

"Take it off!"

Kate ripped away the fastenings and tossed the skin far away.

"Oh!" breathed Joan.

"It isn't clean! It isn't clean," cried Kate. "Oh, my poor, darling
baby! Get your bonnet and your cloak, Joan, quickly."

"We're coming back?"

"Of course."

Joan trudged obediently to the side of the cave and produced both
articles, sadly rumpled, and Kate buttoned her into them with trembling
fingers. Something akin to cold made her shake now. It was very much
like a child's fear of the dark.

But as she turned towards the entrance to the cave and caught the hand
of Joan, the child wrenched herself free.

"We'll never come back," she wailed. "Munner, I won't go!"

"Joan, come to me this instant."

Grief and fear and defiance had set the child trembling, but what the
mother saw was the glint of the eyes, uneasy, hunting escape with
animal cunning. It turned her heart cold, and she knew, with a sad, full
knowledge that Dan was lost forever and that only one power could save
Joan. That power w