dy Dan?" she whispered.

"And when you get to him, take this little paper out of your pocket and
give it to him. You won't forget?"

"Give the paper to Daddy Dan," repeated Joan solemnly.

Kate dropped to her knees and gathered the little close, close,
until Joan cried out, but when she was eased the child reached up an
astonished hand, touched the face of Kate with awe, and then stared at
her finger tips.

A moment later, Joan stood in front of Black Bart, with the head of the
wolf-dog seized firmly between her hands while she frowned intently into
his face.

"Take Joan to Daddy Dan," she ordered.

At the name, the sharp ears pricked; a speaking intelligence grew up in
his eyes.

"Giddap," commanded Joan, when she was in position on the back of Bart.
And she thumped her heels against the furry ribs.

Towards Kate, who stood trembling in the door, Bart cast the departing
favor of a throat-tearing growl, and then shambled across the meadow
with that smooth trot which wears down all other four-footed creatures.
He was already on the far side of the meadow, and beginning the ascent
of the first slope when the glint of the sun on the yellow wild flowers
flashed on the eye of Kate. It had all seemed natural until that moment,
the only possible thing to do, but now she felt suddenly that Joan was
thrown away thought of the darkness which would soon come--remembered
the yellow terror which sometimes gleamed in the eyes of Black Bart
after nightfall.

She cried out, but the wolf-dog kept swiftly on his way. She began to
run, still calling, but rapidly as she went, Black Bart slid steadily
away from her, and when she reached the shoulder of the mountain, she
saw the dark form of Bart with the blue patch above it drifting up the
wall of the opposite ravine.

She knew where they were going now; it was the old cave upon which she
and Dan had come one day in their rides, and Dan had prowled for a long
time through the shadowy recesses.

Chapter XIX. The Venture

From the moment Joan gave the name of Daddy Dan, the wolf-dog kept to
the trail with arrowy straightness. Whatever the limitations of
Bart's rather uncanny intelligence, upon one point he was usually
letter-perfect, and even when a stranger mentioned Dan in the hearing of
the dog it usually brought a whine or at least an anxious look. He hewed
to his line now with that animal sense of direction which men can never
wholly understand. Boulders and trees sli