“Dan, I’ve got to talk to you,” he began.

The whistling ceased; the wide brown eyes turned to him.

“Fire away—­partner.”

Ay, they had eaten together by the same fire—­they had watched the coming of the night—­they had shaken hands in friendship—­they were partners.  He knew deep in his heart that no human being could ever be the actual comrade of this man.  This lord of the voiceless desert needed no human companionship; yet as the marshal glanced from the black shadow of Satan to the gleaming eyes of Bart, and then to the visionary face of Barry, he felt that he had been admitted by Whistling Dan into the mysterious company.  The thought stirred him deeply.  It was as if he had made an alliance with the wandering wind.  Why he had been accepted he could not dream, but he had heard the word “partner” and he knew it was meant.  After all, stranger things than this happen in the mountain-desert, where man is greater and convention less.  A single word has been known to estrange lifelong comrades; a single evening beside a camp-fire has changed foes to partners.  Calder drew his mind back to business with a great effort.

“There’s one thing you don’t know about Jim Silent.  A reward of ten thousand dollars lies on his head.  The notices aren’t posted yet.”

Whistling Dan shrugged his shoulders.

“I ain’t after money,” he answered.

Calder frowned.  He did not appreciate a bluff.

“Look here,” he said, “if we kill him, because no power on earth will take him alive—­we’ll split the money.”

“If you lay a hand on him,” said Dan, without emotion, “we won’t be friends no longer, I figger.”

Calder stared.

“If you don’t want to get him,” he said, “why in God’s name are you trailing him this way?”

Dan touched his lips.  “He hit me with his fist.”

He paused, and spoke again with a drawling voice that gave his words an uncanny effect.

“My blood went down from my mouth to my chin.  I tasted it.  Till I get him there ain’t no way of me forgettin’ him.”

His eyes lighted with that ominous gleam.

“That’s why no other man c’n put a hand on him.  He’s laid out all for me.  Understand?”

The ring of the question echoed for a moment through Calder’s mind.

“I certainly do,” he said with profound conviction, “and I’ll never forget it.”  He decided on a change of tactics.  “But there are other men with Jim Silent and those men will fight to keep you from getting to him.”

“I’m sorry for ’em,” said Dan gently.  “I ain’t got nothin’ agin any one except the big man.”

Calder took a long breath.

“Don’t you see,” he explained carefully, “if you shoot one of these men you are simply a murderer who must be apprehended by the law and punished.”

“It makes it bad for me, doesn’t it?” said Dan.  “An’ I hope I won’t have to hurt more’n one or two of ’em.  You see,”—­he leaned forward seriously towards Calder—­“I’d only shoot for their arms or their legs.  I wouldn’t spoil them altogether.”