He also knew that his last moment of consciousness was
come. Surges of sleepy weakness swept over his brain. He could never
guide Satan to the house.
"Bart!" he called feebly.
The wolf whining, dropped back beside him. Dan pointed his right arm
straight ahead. Black Bart leaped high into the air and his shrill
yelp told that he had seen the cottonwoods and the house.
Dan summoned the last of his power and threw the reins over the head
of Satan.
"Take us in, Bart," he said, and twisting his fingers into Satan's
mane fell across the saddlehorn.
Satan, understanding the throwing of the reins as an order to halt,
came to a sharp stop, and the body of the senseless rider sagged to
one side. Black Bart caught the reins. They were bitter and salt with
blood of the master.
He tugged hard. Satan whinnied his doubt, and the growl of Black Bart
answered, half a threat. In a moment more they were picking their way
through the brush towards the house of Buck Daniels.
Satan was far gone with exhaustion. His head drooped; his legs
sprawled with every step; his eyes were glazed. Yet he staggered on
with the great black wolf pulling at the reins. There was the salt
taste of blood in the mouth of Black Bart; so he stalked on, saliva
dripping from his mouth, and his eyes glazed with the lust to kill.
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