“Find’em, Bart!” he whispered.  “Find’em!”

And he struck sharply on the scar where the bullet had ploughed its way into Bart’s flesh.

The answer of Bart was a yelp too sharp and too highly pitched to have come from the throat of any mere dog.  Once more he darted out and ran here and there, and Doctor Byrne heard the beast moaning as it ran.  Then Bart ceased circling and cut down the slope away from the hill at a sharp trot.

A cry of inarticulate joy burst from Dan, and then:  “You’ve found it!  You have it!” and the master ran swiftly after the dog.  He followed the latter only for a short distance down the slope and then stood still and whistled.  He had to repeat the call before the dog turned and ran back to his master, where he whined eagerly about the man’s feet.  There was something uncanny and horrible about it; it was as if the dumb beast was asking for a life, and the life of a man.  The doctor turned back and walked thoughtfully to the house.

At the door he was met by Kate and a burst of eager questions, and he told, simply, all that he had seen.

“You’ll get the details from Mr. Barry,” he concluded.

“I know the details,” answered the girl.  “He’s found the trail and he knows where it points, now.  And he’ll want to be following it before many hours have passed.  Doctor Byrne, I need you now—­terribly.  You must convince Dan that if he leaves us it will be a positive danger to Dad.  Can you do that?”

“At least,” said the doctor, “there will be little deception in that.  I will do what I can to persuade him to stay.”

“Then,” she said hurriedly, “sit here, and I shall sit here.  We’ll meet Dan together when he comes in.”

They had hardly taken their places when Barry entered, the wolf at his heels; at the door he paused to flash a glance at them and then crossed the room.  On the farther side he stopped again.

“I might be tellin’ you,” he said in his soft voice, “that now’s Bart’s well I got to be travellin’ again.  I start in the morning.”

The pleading eyes of Kate raised Byrne to his feet.

“My dear Mr. Barry!” he called.  The other turned again and waited.  “Do you mean that you will leave us while Mr. Cumberland is in this critical condition?”

A shadow crossed the face of Barry.

“I’d stay if I could,” he answered.  “But it ain’t possible!”

“What takes you away is your affair, sir,” said the doctor.  “My concern is Mr. Cumberland.  He is in a very precarious condition.  The slightest nerve shock may have—­fatal—­results.”

Dan Barry sighed.

“Seemed to me,” he answered, “that he was buckin’ up considerable.  Don’t look so thin, doc.”

“His body may be well enough,” said the doctor calmly, “but his nerves are wrecked.  I am afraid to prophesy the consequences if you leave him.”

It was apparent that a great struggle was going on in Barry.  He answered at length:  “How long would I have to stay?  One rain could wipe out all the sign and make me like a blind man in the desert.  Doc, how long would I have to stay?”