“Buck,” he said, “I been sort of lonesome.  It feels pretty good to see you agin.”

“Oh man,” answered Buck Daniels, “speakin’ of bein’ lonesome------” He
checked himself.  “How about steppin’ inside and havin’ a talk?”

The other started forward agreeably, but stopped almost at once.

“Heel!” he called, without turning his head.

Black Bart left the back of the stallion in a long bound that carried him half way to the fence.  His next leap brought him over the rail and beside his master.  Buck Daniels moved back a step involuntarily.

“Bart,” he said, “d’you know me?”

He stretched out his hand; and was received with a sudden baring of the fangs.

“Nice dog!” said Buck sarcastically.  “Regular house-pet, ain’t he?”

The other apparently missed the entire point of this remark.  He said in his gentle, serious way:  “He used to be real wild, Buck.  But now he don’t mind people.  He let the cook feed him a chunk o’ meat the other day; and you remember he don’t usually touch stuff that other men have handled.”

“Yep,” grunted Buck, “it’s sure disgustin’ to have a dog as tame as that.  I’d bet he ain’t killed another dog for a whole day, maybe!”

And still Barry saw no irony in this.

He answered, as gravely as before:  “No, it was the day before yesterday.  Somebody come to town and got drunk.  He had two dogs, and sicked ’em on Bart.”

Buck Daniels controlled an incipient shudder.

“Both dead?”

“I was inside the house,” said Dan sadly, “and it took me a couple of seconds to get outside.  Of course by that time Bart had cut their throats.”

“Of course.  Didn’t the drunk guy try to pot Bart?”

“Yes, he got out his gun; but, Mr. O’Brien, the bartender, persuaded him out of it.  I was glad there wasn’t no trouble.”

“My God!” exclaimed Buck Daniels.  And then:  “Well, let’s go inside.  We’ll take your man-eater along, if you want to.”

A shadow came in the eyes of Barry.

“Can’t we talk jest as well out here?”

“What’s the matter with findin’ some chairs?”

“Because I don’t like to get inside walls.  You know how four walls seem like so many pairs of eyes standin’ around you?”

“No,” said Buck bluntly, “I don’t know nothin’ of the kind.  What d’you mean?”

“I dunno,” answered Barry, depressed.  “It jest seems that way.  Ain’t you noticed how sort of close it is in a house?  Hard to breath?  Like you had on a shirt too small for you.”

“We’ll stay out here, then.”

The other nodded, smiled, and made a gesture to the dog behind him.  Black Bart crouched on the ground, and Dan Barry sat down cross-legged, his shoulders leaning against the shaggy pelt of Bart.  Daniels followed the example with less grace.  He was thinking very hard and fast, and he rolled a Durham cigarette to fill the interlude.