Her arm was released.

But Black Bart crouched and the snakelike head lowered; he was quivering throughout that steel-muscled body to throw himself at her throat.  The finger was on the hair-trigger; it needed a pressure not greater than a bodiless thought.  And still she looked into the eyes of the wolf-dog; and her terror had made her strangely light of body and dizzy of mind.  Then the change came, suddenly.  The yellow-green changed, swirled in the eyes of Black Bart; the eyes themselves wavered, and at last looked away; the snarl dropped to a sullen growl.  And Black Bart lay down as he had been before.

His head was still turned towards her, to be sure.  And the teeth were still bared, as with rapid, deft fingers she undid the bandage; and from instant to instant, as the bandage in spite of her care pressed against the wound, the beast shivered and wicked glances flashed up at her face.  The safe-blower who finds his “soup” cooling and dares not set it down felt as Kate Cumberland felt then.

She never knew what kept her hands steady, but steady they were.  The cloth was removed, and now she could see the red, angry wound, with the hair shaven away to a little distance on every side.  She dipped her cloth into the antiseptic; it stung her fingers!  She touched the cloth lightly against the wound; and to her astonishment the wolf-dog relaxed every muscle and let his head fall to the ground; also the growl died into a soft whine, and this in turn ended.

She had conquered!  Ay, when the wound was thoroughly cleansed and when she started to wind the bandage again, she had even the courage to touch Black Bart’s body and make him rise up so that she could pass the cloth freely.  At her touch he shuddered, to be sure, as a man might shudder at the touch of an unclean thing, but there was no snarl, and the teeth were not bared.

As she tied the knot which secured the bandage in its place she was aware that the eyes of Bart, no longer yellow-green, watched her; and she felt some vague movement of the wonder that was passing through the brute mind.  Then the head of the wolf-dog jerked up; he was staring at something in the distance, and there was nothing under heaven that Bart would raise his head to look at in this manner except one thing.  The fingers of Kate grew stiff, and trembled.  Slowly, in a panic, she finished the knot, and then she was aware of someone who had approached without sound and now stood behind her.

She looked up, at length, before she rose to her feet.

Thankfulness welled up warm in her heart to find her voice steady and commonplace when she said:  “The wound is much better.  Bart will be well in a very few days now.”

Whistling Dan did not answer, and his wondering eyes glanced past her own.  She saw that he was staring at a double row of white indentations on her forearm, where the teeth of Black Bart had set.  He knew those marks, and she knew he knew.  Strength was leaving her, and weakness went through her—­water where blood should have been.  She dared not stay.  In another moment she would be hopelessly in the grip of hysteria.