It was not well that the others should be so near.  For how could one tell from what hand a rope might be thrown or in what hand a gun might suddenly flash?  But still the voice called and Alcatraz went slowly, snorting his protest and suspicion, until he stood at the foot of the couch and stretching forth his nose, still with his frightened glance fixed on the watchers, Alcatraz sniffed the hand of Red Jim.  It turned.  It patted him gently.  It drew his gaze away from the others and into the eyes of this one man, the mysterious eyes which understood so much.

“A lone trail is right enough for a while, old boy,” Red Jim was saying, “but in the end we need partners, a man and a woman and a horse and a man.”

And Alcatraz, feeling the trail of the finger tips across the velvet skin of his muzzle, agreed.

THE END.