f death, and then the
night-riders had rushed away. Nor was this all, for Sheriff Pete Glass,
hearing of the tragedy, had ridden to Rickett, the county seat, and from
this strategic point of vantage he was sending out a call for the most
practised fighters on the mountain-desert. He wanted twenty men proved
beyond the shadow of question for courage, endurance, speed, and surety
in action.

"And," concluded the store-keeper, fixing his eye upon Lee Haines,
"if you want a long ride free of charge, and ten bucks a day with chow
thrown in--some of you gents ought to go to Rickett and chin with Pete."

Haines waited to hear no more. He even forgot to ask for the Barry mail,
swung into his saddle, and rode with red spurs back to the cabin in the
mountains. There he drew Buck Daniels aside, and they walked among
the rocks while Haines told his story. When it was ended they sat on
adjoining boulders and chucked pebbles aimlessly into the emptiness
beyond the cliff.

"Maybe," said Buck suddenly, "it wasn't Dan at all. He sure wouldn't be
ridin' with no crowd of gents like that."

"A fool like that store-keeper could make a crowd of Indians out of
one papoose," answered Haines. "It was Dan. Who else would be traipsing
around with a dog that looks like a wolf--and hunts men?"

"I remember when Dan cornered Jim Silent in that cabin, and all Jim's
gang was with him. Black Bart--"

"Buck," cut in Haines, "you've remembered plenty."

After a moment: "When are you going in to break the news to Kate?"

Buck Daniels regarded him with angry astonishment.

"Me?" he cried. "I'd sooner cut my tongue out!" He drew a great breath.
"I feel like--like Dan was dead!"

"The best thing for Kate if he were."

"That's a queer thing to say, Lee. The meat would be rotted off your
bones six years ago in Elkhead if it hadn't been for Whistlin' Dan."

"I know it, Buck. But I'll tell you straight that I could never feel
towards Dan as if he were a human being, but a wolf in the hide of a
man. He turned my blood cold; he always has."

Buck Daniels groaned aloud as thoughts poured back on him.

"Of all the pals that ever a man had," he said sadly, "there never was
a partner like Whistlin' Dan. There was never another gent that would go
through hell for you jest because you'd eaten meat with him. The first
time I met him I tried to double-cross him, because I had my orders from
Silent. And Dan played clean with me--by God, he shook hands with