But the doctor proceeded inexorably with his deductions:  “Because you are aware, Mr. Daniels, that the presence of this man may save the life of Mr. Cumberland, a thought, to be sure, which might not be accepted by the medical fraternity, but which may without undue exaggeration devolve from the psychological situation in this house.”

“Doc,” said Daniels huskily, “you talk straight, and you act straight, and I think you are straight, so I’ll take off the bridle and talk free.  I know where Whistling Dan is—­just about.  But if I was to go to him and bring him here I’d bust the heart of Kate Cumberland.  D’you understand?” His voice lowered with an intense emotion.  “I’ve thought it out sideways and backwards.  It’s Kate or old Joe.  Which is the most important?”

The doctor straightened in the chair, polished his glasses, and peered once more at the cowpuncher.

“You are quite sure, also, that the return of this man, this strange wanderer, might help Mr. Cumberland back to health?”

“I am, all right.  He’s sure wrapped up in Whistlin’ Dan.”

“What is the nature of their relations; what makes him so oddly dependent upon the other?”

“I dunno, doc.  It’s got us all fooled.  When Dan is here it seems like old Cumberland jest nacherally lives on the things Dan does and hears and sees.  We’ve seen Cumberland prick up his ears the minute Dan comes into the room, and show life.  Sometimes Dan sits with him and tells him what he’s been doin’—­maybe it ain’t any more than how the sky looks that day, or about the feel of the wind—­but Joe sits with his eyes dreamin’, like a little kid hearin’ fairy stories.  Kate says it’s been that way since her dad first brought Dan in off’n the range.  He’s been sort of necessary to old Joe—­almost like air to breathe.  I tell you, it’s jest a picture to see them two together.”

“Very odd, very odd,” brooded the doctor, frowning, “but this seems to be an odd place and an odd set of people.  You’ve no real idea why Dan left the ranch?”

“Ask the wild geese,” said Buck bitterly.  He added:  “Maybe you’d better ask Dan’s black hoss or his dog, Bart.  They’d know better’n anything else.”

“But what has the man been doing since he left?  Have you any idea?”

“Get a little chatter, now and then, of a gent that’s rid into a town on a black hoss, prettier’n anything that was ever seen before.

“It’s all pretty much the same, what news we get.  Mostly I guess he jest wanders around doin’ no harm to nobody.  But once in a while somebody sicks a dog on Bart, and Bart jest nacherally chaws that dog in two.  Then the owner of the dog may start a fight, and Dan drops him and rides on.”

“With a trail of dead men behind him?” cried the doctor, hunching his shoulders as if to shake off a chill.

“Dead?  Nope.  You don’t have to shoot to kill when you can handle a gun the way Dan does.  Nope, he jest wings ’em.  Plants a chunk of lead in a shoulder, or an arm, or a leg.  That’s all.  They ain’t no love of blood in Dan--except-----”