t holds so much
and no more. One instant the longing for Dan was all that Joan could
think of; the next she had no room for anything more than the burned
nose of the puppy--if there were other phases to this matter--such as
Buck Daniels had pointed out--fear that in some future crisis the blood
of the father might show in the child, Kate pushed such thoughts away.
She was too full of the present happiness.

Now, while she sat there in the firelight, she sang softly into the
dreams of Joan, and watched the smile of sleep grow and wane faintly on
the lips of the child as the rhythm of her singing lifted and fell. One
half of her mind was empty, that part where Dan should have been, and a
dozen times she checked an impulse to turn to him in the place where he
should be sitting and invite him with a smile to share her happiness.
When her eyes moved they only fell on the gaunt, intent face of Buck or
the leonine head of Haines. Whistling Dan was gone and if he ever came
again her fear of him, her fear for Joan, would be greater than her
love. Yet Dan being gone so finally, she knew that she would never be
truly happy again. Her spring of life was ended, but even now she was
grateful for the full richness of those six years with Dan; and if she
turned from him now it was only because a mighty instinct commanded
her and a voice without words drove her--Joan must go on to a normal,
womanly happiness. Dan Barry lived from day to day, glutting himself
with a ride in the wind, or the whistle of a far-off bird, or the wail
of a mountain-lion through the night. Each instant was to him complete,
but the eye of Kate looked far away and saw the night when this daughter
of hers should sit holding an infant by such a fire, and her heart was
both empty and full.

It was no wonder, then, that she heard the first sound long before
either Haines or Buck Daniels, for her mind was on guard against dangers
which might threaten her baby. It was a faint slipping, scratching noise
on the veranda; then a breathing at the front door. Kate turned, and the
men followed the terror of her eyes in time to see the door fall open,
and a broad paw appear in the interval. The snaky head of Black Bart
thrust into the room.

Without a word, Daniels drew his gun.

"Wait!" commanded Kate. Joan awoke with a start at the sharpness of this
voice. "Don't shoot, Buck. See that bit of paper under his throat. He's
bringing a message."

"Bart!" cried Joan, slippin