g to the floor from her mother's lap, but
when she ran toward the wolf-dog, that tremendous snarl of warning
stopped her short. Bart slunk toward Kate.

"Look out, Kate!" cried Haines. "The black devil means murder."

"Don't move, or he'll go at your throat," she answered. "There's no
danger to me. He's been ordered to go to me and he won't let even Joan
touch him. See!"

He had glided past the amazed, outstretched arms of Joan and went
straight to Kate and stopped beside her, obviously expectant. She
reached for the slip of folded paper, and as her hand approached he
crouched a little, growling; but it was only to caution her, apparently,
and though he distrusted the hand, he allowed it to unfasten the
missive.

She untwisted the note, she read aloud: "Kate, send Joan back to me or I
come for her. Send her with Bart."

It seemed as though the wolf-dog understood the written words, for now
he moved toward Joan and she, with a cry, dropped the squealing puppy
and caught the great head of Bart in her arms. The puppy wailed, sitting
down on his haunches, and quivering with grief.

"Daddy Dan wants me," explained Joan with bright eyes. "He's sent for
me. Go quick, Bart!"

The big animal lay down to facilitate her mounting.

"Joan!" called Kate. The child hesitated and turned toward her. Her
mother had taken up that light revolver which Dan had taught her to use
so well, and now, as she leveled it at the wolf-dog, Bart laid his fangs
bare in silent hate. The weapons of Buck and Lee Haines were ready, and
now Bart raised himself a little and commenced to drag gradually forward
to leaping distance.

"Drop your gun, Kate," cautioned Buck. "For God's sake drop your gun.
Even if you hit him with a bullet, he'll be at your throat. Unless you
kill him with the first shot he'll have you. Drop your gun, and then
he'll go at us."

But Joan knew perfectly well what those gleaming bits of steel meant.
She had seen Daddy Dan shoot and kill, and now she ran screaming between
Bart and danger.

"Munner!" she cried. "You bad, bad men. I won't let you hurt Bart."

"They won't hurt you, Bart," explained Joan, taming much mollified to
the great wolf-dog. "They're just playin'. Now we'll go."

And she started toward the door, with Bart slinking in front and keeping
a watchful lookout from a corner of his eye.

"Are you going to leave the poor little puppy, Joan?" said the mother,
keeping her voice steady, for all the force of t