and far out across the hills where the shadows deepened and dropped slanting and black across the hollows. Far away a coyote wailed. The wind which swept the hills seemed to her like a refrain of Dan's whistling—the song and the summons of the untamed.
"That trail will never bring you home," she said.
There was a long silence.
"You ain't cryin', honey?"
"I'm not crying, Dan."
"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.
