He's
not human an' he don't deserve--Oh, God!"
He started up from his chair, white faced, his hands high above his
head, staring at the apparition of Whistling Dan, who stood with two
revolvers covering the posse. Every man was on his feet instantly,
with arms straining stiffly up. The muzzles of revolvers are like the
eyes of some portraits. No matter from what angle you look at them,
they seem directed straight at you. And every cowpuncher in the room
was sure that he was the main object of Dan's aim.
"Morris!" said Dan.
"For God's sake, don't shoot!" screamed the sheriff. "I--"
"Git down on your knees! Watch him, Bart!"
As the sheriff sank obediently to his knees, the wolf slipped up to
him with a stealthy stride and stood half crouched, his teeth bared,
silent. No growl could have made Bart more terribly threatening.
Dan turned completely away from Morris so that he could keep a more
careful watch on the others.
"Call off your wolf!" moaned Morris, a sob of terror in his voice.
"I ought to let him set his teeth in you," said Dan, "but I'm goin' to
let you off if you'll tell me what I want to know."
"Yes! Anything!"
"Where's Jim Silent?"
All eyes flashed towards Morris.
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