"
"I got to go."
"Yes."
"Kate, you got a dyin' whisper in your voice."
"That will pass, dear."
"Why, honey, you _are_ cryin'!"
He took her face between his hands, and stared into her misted eyes,
but then his glance wandered past her, through the window, out to the
shadowy hills.
"You won't leave me now?" she pleaded.
"I must!"
"Give me one hour more!"
"Look!" he said, and pointed.
She saw Black Bart reared up with his forepaws resting on the
window-sill, while he looked into the thickening night with the eyes
of the hunter which sees in the dark.
"The wolf knows, Kate," he said, "but I can't explain."
He kissed her forehead, but she strained close to him and raised her
lips.
She cried, "My whole soul is on them."
"Not that!" he said huskily. "There's still blood on my lips an' I'm
goin' out to get them clean."
He was gone through the door with the wolf racing before him.
She stumbled after him, her arms outspread, blind with tears; and
then, seeing that he was gone indeed, she dropped into the chair,
buried her face against the place where his head had rested, and wept.
Far away the coyote wailed again, and this time nearer.
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