“Look out, Kate!” cried Haines. “The black devil means murder.”
“Don't move, or he'll go at your throat,” she answered. “There's no danger to me. He's been ordered to go to me and he won't let even Joan touch him. See!”
He had glided past the amazed, outstretched arms of Joan and went straight to Kate and stopped beside her, obviously expectant. She reached for the slip of folded paper, and as her hand approached he crouched a little, growling; but it was only to caution her, apparently, and though he distrusted the hand, he allowed it to unfasten the missive.
She untwisted the note, she read aloud: “Kate, send Joan back to me or I come for her. Send her with Bart.”
It seemed as though the wolf-dog understood the written words, for now he moved toward Joan and she, with a cry, dropped the squealing puppy and caught the great head of Bart in her arms. The puppy wailed, sitting down on his haunches, and quivering with grief.
“Daddy Dan wants me,” explained Joan with bright eyes. “He's sent for me. Go quick, Bart!”
The big animal lay down to facilitate her mounting.
“Joan!” called Kate. The child hesitated and turned toward her. Her mother had taken up that light revolver which Dan had taught her to use so well, and now, as she leveled it at the wolf-dog, Bart laid his fangs bare in silent hate. The weapons of Buck and Lee Haines were ready, and now Bart raised himself a little and commenced to drag gradually forward to leaping distance.
“Drop your gun, Kate,” cautioned Buck. “For God's sake drop your gun. Even if you hit him with a bullet, he'll be at your throat. Unless you kill him with the first shot he'll have you. Drop your gun, and then he'll go at us.”
But Joan knew perfectly well what those gleaming bits of steel meant. She had seen Daddy Dan shoot and kill, and now she ran screaming between Bart and danger.