e's pride for
you. He won't let on that he's too weak to carry me. Now I'd ought to
let him stay there till he drops."

He whistled suddenly, the call sliding up, breaking, and rising again
with a sharp appeal. Satan neighed again as it died away.

"If that won't bring him, nothin' will. Back we got to go. Bart, you
jest take this to heart: It ain't any use tryin' to bring them to reason
that ain't got any sense."

He went back and sprang lightly to the back of the horse and Satan
staggered a little under the weight but once, as if to prove that his
strength was more than equal to the task, he broke into a trot. A harsh
order called him back to a walk, and so they started up into the Grizzly
Peaks.

By dark, however, a few halts, a chance to crop grass for a moment
here and there, a roll by the next creek and a short draught of water,
restored a great part of the black's strength, and before the night was
an hour old he was heading up through the hills at a long, swift trot.

Even then it was that dark, cold time just before dawn when they wound
up the difficult pass toward the cave. The moon had gone down; a thin,
high mist painted out the stars; and there were only varying degrees of
blackness to show them the way, with peaks and ridges starting here
and there out of the night, very suddenly. It was so dark, indeed, that
sometimes Dan could not see where Bart skulked a little ahead, weaving
among the boulders and picking the easiest way. But all three of them
knew the course by instinct, and when they came to a more or less
commanding rise of ground in the valley Dan checked the stallion and
whistled.

Then he sat canting his head to one side to listen more intently. A
rising wind brought about him something like an echo of the sound, but
otherwise there was no answer.

"She ain't heard," muttered Dan to Bart, who came running back at the
call, so familiar to him and to the horse. He whistled again, prolonging
the call until it soared and trembled down the gulch, and this time when
he stopped he sat for a long moment, waiting, until Black Bart whined at
his side.

"She ain't learned to sleep light, yet," muttered Barry. "An' I
s'pose she's plumb tired out waitin' for me. But if something's
happened--Satan!"

That word sent the stallion leaping ahead at a racing gait, swerving
among rocks which he could not see.

"They's nothin' wrong with her," whispered Barry to himself. "They can't
be nothin' happened