as herself.

"I won't go!"

"Joan!"

A resolute silence answered her, and when she went threateningly
forward, Joan shrank into the shadows near the rock. It was the play of
light striking slantwise from the entrance, no doubt, but it seemed to
Kate that a flicker of yellow light danced across the eyes of the child.
And it stopped Kate took her breath with a new terror. Dan Barry, in the
old days, had lived a life as quiet as a summer's day until the time Jim
Silent struck him down in the saloon; and she remembered how Black Bart
had come for her and led her to the saloon, and how she found Dan lying
on the floor, streaked with blood, very pale; and how she had kneeled
by him in a panic, and how his eyes had opened and stared at her without
answer and the yellow, inhuman light swirled in them until she rose and
backed out the door and fled in a hysteria of fear up the road. That had
been the beginning of the end for Dan Barry, that instant when his eyes
changed; and now Joan--she ran at her swiftly and gathered her into her
arms. One instant of wild struggling, and then the child lay still, her
head straightened a little, a shrill whistle pealed through the cave.

Kate stopped that piercing call with her hand, but when she turned, she
saw in the entrance the dark body of Bart and his narrow, snake-like
head.

Chapter XXV. The Battle

"It's Dan," whispered Kate. "He's come."

"Maybe Daddy Dan sent Bart back alone, munner."

"Does he do that often? Come quickly, Joan. Run!"

She ran towards the entrance, stumbling over the uneven ground and
dragging Joan behind her, but when they came close the wolf-dog bristled
and sent down the cavern a low growl that stopped them like an invisible
barrier. The softest sounds in his register were ominous warnings to
those who did not know Black Bart, but Kate and Joan understood that
this muttering, harsh thunder was an ultimatum. If she had worn her
revolver, a light, beautifully mounted thirty-two which Dan had given
her, Kate would have shot the wolf and gone on across his body; for she
had learned from Whistling Dan to shoot quickly as one points a finger
and straight by instinct. Even as she stood there barehanded she looked
about her desperately for a weapon, seeing the daylight and the promise
of escape beyond and only this dumb beast between her and freedom.

Once before, many a year before, she had gone like this, with empty
hands, and subdued Black Bart simply