ir, white faced, his hands high above his
head, staring at the apparition of Whistling Dan, who stood with two
revolvers covering the posse. Every man was on his feet instantly,
with arms straining stiffly up. The muzzles of revolvers are like the
eyes of some portraits. No matter from what angle you look at them,
they seem directed straight at you. And every cowpuncher in the room
was sure that he was the main object of Dan's aim.

"Morris!" said Dan.

"For God's sake, don't shoot!" screamed the sheriff. "I--"

"Git down on your knees! Watch him, Bart!"

As the sheriff sank obediently to his knees, the wolf slipped up to
him with a stealthy stride and stood half crouched, his teeth bared,
silent. No growl could have made Bart more terribly threatening.
Dan turned completely away from Morris so that he could keep a more
careful watch on the others.

"Call off your wolf!" moaned Morris, a sob of terror in his voice.

"I ought to let him set his teeth in you," said Dan, "but I'm goin' to
let you off if you'll tell me what I want to know."

"Yes! Anything!"

"Where's Jim Silent?"

All eyes flashed towards Morris. The latter, as the significance of
the question came home to him, went even a sicklier white, like the
belly of a dead fish. His eyes moved swiftly about the circle of his
posse. Their answering glares were sternly forbidding.

"Out with it!" commanded Dan.

The sheriff strove mightily to speak, but only a ghastly whisper came:
"You got the wrong tip, Dan. I don't know nothin' about Silent. I'd
have him in jail if I did!"

"Bart!" said Dan.

The wolf slunk closer to the kneeling man. His hot breath fanned the
face of the sheriff and his lips grinned still farther back from the
keen, white teeth.

"Help!" yelled Morris. "He's at the shanty up on Bald-eagle Creek."

A rumble, half cursing and half an inarticulate snarl of brute rage,
rose from the cowpunchers.

"Bart," called Dan again, and leaped back from the door, raced out to
Satan, and drove into the night at a dead gallop.

Half the posse rushed after him. A dozen shots were pumped after the
disappearing shadowy figure. Two or three jumped into their saddles.
The others called them back.

"Don't be an ass, Monte," said one. "You got a good hoss, but you
ain't fool enough to think he c'n catch Satan?"

They trooped back to the dining-room, and gathered in a silent circle
around the sheriff, whose little fear-bright eyes went from face t