He caught the sound of another horse coming, far different even to his unpracticed ear from the beat of hoofs which announced the coming of Buck Daniels.  The rhythm of their fall was slower, as if the stride of the animal were much longer.  He pictured a mighty creature with a vast mane blown back against the chest of a giant rider.  There was a murmur from Kate:  “Dan, my dear, my dear!”

Then he heard a padding footfall, hardly louder than the light, light step of the wolf.  The knob of the door turned slowly, without a sound; it opened, and a man stepped in.  He was not larger than the doctor; a slender fellow, almost dapper in his dress, with hardly a sign of travel about him, except that the brim of his sombrero was folded back from his face as if from continual pressure of wind.  These things Randall Byrne noted vaguely; what he was sharply aware of were the eyes of the man.  He had the feeling that he had seen them before; he remembered the yellow light that had swirled in the eyes of the wolf at the window.

The newcomer flashed a glance about the room, yet for all its speed it seemed to linger an instant on each face, and when it crossed the stare of Byrne the doctor shrank.

“Where is Buck?” asked the man.  “I’ve come for him!”

As if in answer, the great, shaggy dog slipped through the entrance past his master and glided across the room.  As he passed, Kate held out a hand to him.  She called softly:  “Bart!” but she was greeted with a silent baring of fangs; and she caught her hand back against her breast, with the tears springing in her eyes.  On the other side of the room the black dog paused and looked back to his master, while Byrne realised with a shudder that the door before which it stood was the door through which Buck Daniels had disappeared.  Straight to that door Barry stepped, and Byrne realised, with an eerie emotion, that the footfalls made no sound.

Before he reached the door, however, the girl started forward and sprang before him.  With her outstretched arms she barred the way.  Her skirt brushed almost in the face of the dog, and the beast shrank away not in fear, but crouching in readiness to leap.  The sharp ears twitched back; a murderous snarl rolled up from between the wicked teeth.  Yet she did not cast a single glance at him; she faced the greater danger.

She was saying:  “Whatever Buck did, it wasn’t done to hurt you, Dan; it was done for your own sake.  And for Dad’s sake.  You shan’t pass here!”

From his position, the doctor could not see the face of Dan Barry, but he guessed at it through the expression of Kate.  Such terror and horror were in her eyes as though she were facing a death’s head inches away.  Then he saw the slender hand of Barry rise and move towards the girl, slowly, tremblingly, as though one fierce impulse urged him to thrust her to one side and as though another held back his arm.  The doctor could not watch the girl longer; fear and pity were wringing him as he lowered his glance to the floor.