tan!"

The stallion whinnied softly, and Joan smiled.

"With Satan and Black Bart"--the wolf-dog had glided near, and now stood
watching--"and with Daddy Dan, you just come to me. But if you want to
go to--to Munner, you just go." On his face the struggle showed--the
struggle to be perfectly just. "If you stay here, maybe it'll be cold,
sometimes when the wind blows, and maybe it'll be hard other ways. And
if you go to munner, she always be takin' care of you, and no harm'll
ever come to you and you'll sleep soft between sheets, and if you wake
up in the night she'll be there to talk to you. And you'll have pretty
little dresses with all kinds of colors on 'em, most like. Joan, do you
want to go to munner, or stay here with me?"

Perhaps the speech was rather long for Joan to follow, but the
conclusion was plain enough; and there was Kate, she also upon one knee
and her arms stretched out.

"Joan, my baby, my darling!"

"Munner!" whispered the child and ran towards her.

A growl came up in the throat of Black Bart and then sank away into a
whine; Joan stopped short, and turned her head.

"Joan!" cried Kate.

Anguish made her voice loud, and from the loudness Joan shrank, for
there was never a harsh sound in the cave except the growl of Bart
warning away danger. She turned quite around and there stood Daddy Dan,
perfectly erect, quite indifferent, to all seeming, as to her choice.
She went to him with a rush and caught at his hands.

"Oh, Daddy Dan, I don't want to go. Don't you want Joan?"

He laid a hand upon her head, and she felt the tremor of his fingers;
the wolf-dog lay down at her feet and looked up in her face; Satan, from
the shadows beyond, whinnied again.

After that there was not a word spoken, for Kate looked at the picture
of the three, saw the pity in the eyes of Whistling Dan, saw the wonder
in the eyes of Joan, saw the truth of all she had lost. She turned
towards the entrance and went out, her head bowed, stumbling over the
pebbles.

Chapter XXVI. The Test

The most that could be said of Rickett was that it had a courthouse and
plenty of quiet so perfect that the minds of the office holders could
turn and turn and hear no sound saving their own turning. There were,
of course, more buildings than the courthouse, but not so many that
they could not be grouped conveniently along one street. The hush which
rested over Rickett was never broken except in the periods immediately
after the