"God!" whispered Silent, and at that instant the ominous crouched
animal with the yellow eyes, the nameless thing which had been
Whistling Dan a moment before, sprang up and forward with a leap like
that of a panther.
Morgan stood behind the bar with a livid face and a fixed smile. His
fingers still stiffly clutched the whisky bottle from which the last
glass had been filled. Not another man in the room stirred from his
place. Some sat with their cards raised in the very act of playing.
Some had stopped midway a laugh. One man had been tying a bootlace.
His body did not rise. Only his eyes rolled up to watch.
Dan darted under the outstretched arms of Silent, fairly heaved him up
from the floor and drove him backwards. The big man half stumbled and
half fell, knocking aside two chairs. He rushed back with a shout, but
at sight of the white face with the thin trickle of blood falling from
the lips, and at the sound of that inhuman laughter, he paused again.
Once more Dan was upon him, his hands darting out with motions too
fast for the eye to follow. Jim Silent stepped back a half pace,
shifted his weight, and drove his fist straight at that white face.
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