lf rolled through the room.

It startled Barry like a voice out of the sky; he stared about,
bewildered, and then as the minister shifted his position a little he
saw that it was Gregg who stood there beside the girl in white,--it was
Gregg being married. And at the same moment, the eyes of Vic lifted,
wandered, fell upon the face which stood there framed in the dark of the
doorway. Dan saw the flush die out, saw the narrow, single-purposed face
of Gregg turn white, saw his eyes widen, and his own hand closed on
his gun. Another instant; the minister turned his head, seemed to be
waiting, and then Gregg spoke in answer: "I will!"

A thousand pictures rushed through the mind of Barry, and he remembered
first and last the wounded man on the gray horse who he had saved,
and the long, hard ride carrying that limp body to the cabin in the
mountains. The man would fight. By the motion of Gregg's hand, Dan knew
that he had gone even to his wedding armed. He had only to show his own
gun to bring on the crisis, and in the meantime the eyes of Vic held
steadily upon him past the shoulder of the minister, without fear,
desperately. In spite of himself Dan's hand could not move his gun. In
spite of himself he looked to the confused happy face of the girl. And
he felt as he had felt when he set fire to his house up there in the
hills. The wavering lasted only a moment longer; then he turned and
slipped noiselessly down the hall, and the seventh man who should have
died for Grey Molly was still alive.

Chapter XLI. The Wild Geese

Twenty-four hours from Alder to Elkhead, and beyond Elkhead to the
Cumberland ranch, is long riding and hard riding, but not far after dark
on the following night, Joan lifted her head, where she played with the
puppy on the hearth, and listened. There was no sound audible to the
others in the living room; they did not even mark the manner in which
she sat up, and then rose to her feet. But when she whispered "Daddy
Dan!" it brought each of the three out of his chair. Still they heard
nothing, and Buck and Lee Haines would have retaken their chairs had not
Kate gone to the window and thrown it wide. Then they caught it, very
far off, very thin and small, a delicate thread of music, an eerie
whistling. Without a word, she closed the window, crossed the room and
from the table she took up a cartridge belt from which hung the holster
with the revolver which Whistling Dan taught her to use so well. She