The Untamed | Page 7

drawn
from the barrel to the thing I'm shootin' at. All I have to do is to pull the
trigger--almost with my eyes closed!' Now, Kate, do you begin to see
what these here things point to?"
"Tell me what you see," she said, "and then I'll tell you what I think of
it all."
"All right," he said. "I see in Dan a man who's different from the
common run of us. I read in a book once that in the ages when men
lived like animals an' had no weapons except sticks and stones, their
muscles must have been two or three times as strong as they are
now--more like the muscles of brutes. An' their hearin' an' their sight
an' their quickness an' their endurance was about three times more than
that of ordinary men. Kate, I think that Dan is one of those men the
book described! He knows animals because he has all the powers that
they have. An' I know from the way his eyes go yellow that he has the
fightin' instinct of the ancestors of man. So far I've kept him away from
other men. Which I may say is the main reason I bought Dan Morgan's
place so's to keep fightin' men away from our Whistlin' Dan. So I've
been hidin' him from himself. You see, he's my boy if he belongs to
anybody. Maybe when time goes on he'll get tame. But I reckon not.
It's like takin' a panther cub--or a wolf pup--an tryin' to raise it for a pet.
Some day it gets the taste of blood, maybe its own blood, an' then it
goes mad and becomes a killer. An' that's what I fear, Kate. So far I've

kept Dan from ever havin' a single fight, but I reckon the day'll come
when someone'll cross him, and then there'll be a tornado turned loose
that'll jest about wreck these parts."
Her anger had grown during this speech. Now she rose.
"I won't believe you, Dad," she said. "I'd sooner trust our Dan than any
man alive. I don't think you're right in a single word!"
"I was sure loco," sighed Cumberland, "to ever dream of convincin' a
woman. Let it drop, Kate. We're about to get rid of Morgan's place, an'
now I reckon there won't be any temptation near Dan. We'll see what
time'll do for him. Let the thing drop there. Now I'm goin' over to the
Bar XO outfit an' I won't be back till late tonight. There's only one
thing more. I told Morgan there wasn't to be any gun-play in his place
today. If you hear any shootin' go down there an' remind Morgan to
take the guns off'n the men."
Kate nodded, but her stare travelled far away, and the thing she saw
was the yellow light burning in the eyes of Whistling Dan.
CHAPTER III
SILENT SHOOTS
It was a great day and also a sad one for Morgan. His general store and
saloon had been bought out by old Joe Cumberland, who declared a
determination to clear up the landscape, and thereby plunged the
cowpunchers in gloom. They partially forgave Cumberland, but only
because he was an old man. A younger reformer would have met armed
resistance. Morgan's place was miles away from the next oasis in the
desert and the closing meant dusty, thirsty leagues of added journey to
every man in the neighbourhood. The word "neighbourhood," of course,
covered a territory fifty miles square.
If the day was very sad for this important reason, it was also very glad,
for rustling Morgan advertised the day of closing far and wide, and his
most casual patrons dropped all business to attend the big doings. A

long line of buckboards and cattle ponies surrounded the place.
Newcomers gallopped in every few moments. Most of them did not
stop to tether their mounts, but simply dropped the reins over the heads
of the horses and then went with rattling spurs and slouching steps into
the saloon. Every man was greeted by a shout, for one or two of those
within usually knew him, and when they raised a cry the others joined
in for the sake of good fellowship. As a rule he responded by ordering
everyone up to the bar.
One man, however, received no more greeting than the slamming of the
door behind him. He was a tall, handsome fellow with tawny hair and a
little smile of habit rather than mirth upon his lips. He had ridden up on
a strong bay horse, a full two hands taller than the average cattle pony,
and with legs and shoulders and straight back that unmistakably told of
a blooded pedigree. When he entered the saloon he seemed nowise
abashed by the