"This night I learn't what I knew not. A dog howls to noise."
"This one does."
"Make him do hit ag'in. 'Tis a mighty curious thing."
Jeff blew another note and Pal howled again. Barr's eyes sparkled. An elemental creature himself, he was interested in the elemental and this fascinated him. He must find the answer, but while seeking it he did not forget to keep his eyes on Jeff and Pete.
"Why's he do hit?" he asked.
"I don't know," Jeff admitted. "Can't figure it myself."
"Have him do hit some more."
At the first note, Pal obliged with a banshee wail that subsided, then gathered force and mounted again. The sound filled the cabin and offered the illusion of being not only real, but all reality. It was as though the door burst open of its own accord, and Jeff rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
Ike Wilson stood framed in the doorway.
He was slim, supple, smiling, but behind the smile there was something hard as stone and there was nothing to provoke humor in the cocked, double-barreled shotgun he carried. Half erect in his chair, Barr froze there. Pete's face turned white. Ike grinned happily.