Discipline

A light step crossed the outer room, with something peculiar in its lightness, as if the heel were not touching the floor, with the effect of the padded fall of the feet of some great cat; there was both softness and the sense of weight.First the wolf-dog pricked his ears and turned towards the door, the pudgy fist closed convulsively over Vic's thumb, and then his rescuer stood in the entrance.

"Hello, partner," called Vic."I got company, you see.The door blew open and I asked your little girl in.""I told you not to come here," said the other.Vic felt the child tremble, but there was no burst of excuses.

"She didn't want to come," he urged."But I kep' on askin' her."The emotionless eye of "Daddy Dan" held upon Joan."I told you not to come," he said.Joan swallowed in mute agony, and the wolf-dog slipped to the side of the master and licked his hand as though in dumb intercession.

The blood ran coldly in the veins of Gregg, as if he saw a fist raised to strike the little girl.

"You go out."

She went swiftly, at that, sidled past her father with her eyes lifted, fascinated, and so out the door where she paused an instant to flash back a wistful appeal.Nothing but silence, and then her feet pattering off into the outer room.

"Maybe you better go keep her company, Bart," said the father, and at this sign of relenting Vic felt his tensed muscles relaxing; the wolf whined softly and glided through the door.

"You feeling better?"

"Like a hoss off green feed.I been lyin' here drinkin' up the sunshine."The other stood beside the open window and there he canted his head, his glance far off and intent.

"D'you hear?" he asked, turning sharply.

There was a fierce eagerness in his face.

"Hear what?"

"It's spring," he murmured, without answering more directly than this, and Vic felt that the other had changed again, grown understandable.

Nevertheless, the shock of that sudden alteration at the window kept him watching his host with breathless interest.Whatever it was that the strange fellow heard, a light had gleamed in his eyes for a moment.As he sauntered back towards the bed just a trace of it lingered about him, a hint of sternness.

"Spring?" answered Gregg."Yep, I smelled spring a few days back and Istarted out to find some action.You can see for yourself that I found it, partner." He stirred, uneasily, but it was necessary that the story should be told lest it reach the ears of this man from another source.It was one thing to shelter a fugitive from justice whose crime was unknown, perhaps trifling, but it might be quite another story if this gentle, singular man learned that his guest was a new-made murderer.Better that he should learn the tale now and form his prejudices in favor of Gregg."I'll tell you the whole story," he began.

But the other shrugged his shoulders.

"You leave the story be," he said, and there was something in the quiet firmness of his manner which made it impossible for Vic to continue.

"You're here and you're hurt and you need a pile of rest.That's about enough story for me."Vic put himself swiftly in the place of the other.Suppose that he and Betty Neal should have a cabin off in the mountains like this, how would they receive a wounded fugitive from justice? As unquestioningly as this?

In a surge of gratitude he looked mistily towards his host.

"Stranger," he said, "you're white.Damned white.That's all.My name's Vic Gregg and I come from--""Thanks," cut in the other."I'm glad to know your name but in case anybody might be askin' me I wouldn't care to know where you come from." He smiled.

"I'm Dan Barry."

It had to be a left-handed shake on the part of Vic, a thing of which he often thought in the days that followed, but now he sent his memory hunting.