“Who was it you talked about a while ago?” asked Dan.

“Jim Silent.”

Dan instinctively dropped his hand back to his revolver.

“The tall man?”

“The one you fought with in Morgan’s place.”

The unpleasant gleam returned to Dan’s eyes.

“I thought there was only one reason why he should die, but now I see there’s a heap of ’em.”

Calder was all business.

“How long have you been here?” he asked.

“About a day.”

“Have you seen anything of Silent here among the willows?”

“No.”

“Do you think he’s still here?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I dunno.  I’ll stay here till I find him among the trees or he breaks away into the open.”

“How’ll you know when he leaves the willows?”

Whistling Dan was puzzled.

“I dunno,” he answered.  “Somethin’ will tell me when he gets far away from me—­he an’ his men.”

“It’s an inner sense, eh?  Like the smell of the bloodhound?” said Calder, but his eyes were strangely serious.

“This day’s about done,” he went on.  “Have you any objections to me camping with you here?”

Not a cowpuncher within five hundred miles but would be glad of such redoubted company.  They went back to Calder’s horse.

“We can start for my clearing,” said Dan.  “Bart’ll bring the hoss.  Fetch him in.”

The wolf took the dangling bridle reins and led on the cowpony.  Calder observed his performance with starting eyes, but he was averse to asking questions.  In a few moments they came out on a small open space.  The ground was covered with a quantity of dried bunch grass which a glorious black stallion was cropping.  Now he tossed up his head so that some of his long mane fell forward between his ears and at sight of Calder his ears dropped back and his eyes blazed, but when Dan stepped from the willows the ears came forward again with a whinny of greeting.  Calder watched the beautiful animal with all the enthusiasm of an expert horseman.  Satan was untethered; the saddle and bridle lay in a corner of the clearing; evidently the horse was a pet and would not leave its master.  He spoke gently and stepped forward to caress the velvet shining neck, but Satan snorted and started away, trembling with excitement.

“How can you keep such a wild fellow as this without hobbling him?” asked Calder.

“He ain’t wild,” said Dan.

“Why, he won’t let me put a hand on him.”

“Yes, he will.  Steady, Satan!”

The stallion stood motionless with the veritable fires of hell in his eyes as Calder approached.  The latter stopped.

“Not for me,” he said.  “I’d rather rub the moustache of the lion in the zoo than touch that black devil!”