"
He took her hand and his eyes were as unfathomable as a midnight sky.
She turned to her horse and he helped her to the saddle with a steady
hand.
That was all. He went back to the willows, his right arm resting on
the withers of Black Satan as if upon the shoulder of a friend. As she
reached the top of the hill she heard a whistling from the willows, a
haunting complaint which brought the tears to her eyes. She spurred
her tired horse to escape the sound.
CHAPTER XXIII
HELL STARTS
Between twilight and dark Whistling Dan entered Elkhead. He rose in
the stirrups, on his toes, stretching the muscles of his legs. He was
sensing his strength. So the pianist before he plays runs his fingers
up and down the keys and sees that all is in tune and the touch
perfect.
Two rival saloons faced each other at the end of the single street.
At the other extremity of the lane stood the house of deputy sheriff
Rogers, and a little farther was the jail. A crowd of horses stood in
front of each saloon, but from the throngs within there came hardly a
sound. The hush was prophetic of action; it was the lull before the
storm. Dan slowed his horse as he went farther down the street.
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