He wrenched away with all his force. He might as well have
struggled with steel manacles. He was helpless, staring into eyes
which now glinted with a yellow light that sent a cold wave tingling
through his blood.
The yellow gleam died; his hands were loosed; but he made no move to
spring at Dan's throat. Chill horror had taken the place of his shame,
and the wolf-dog still whined at his feet with lips grinned back from
the long white teeth.
"Who in the name of God are you?" he gasped, and even as he spoke
the truth came to him--the whistling--the panther-like speed of
hand--"Whistling Dan Barry."
The other frowned.
"If you didn't know my name why were you trailin' me?"
"I wasn't after you," said Calder.
"You was crawlin' along like that jest for fun? Friend, I figger to
know you. You been sent out by the tall man to lay for me."
"What tall man?" asked Calder, his wits groping.
"The one that swung the chair in Morgan's place," said Dan. "Now
you're goin' to take me to your camp. I got something to say to him."
"By the Lord!" cried the marshal, "you're trailing Silent."
Dan watched him narrowly. It was hard to accuse those keen black eyes
of deceit.
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