"At least," said the doctor, "there will be little deception in that. I will do what I can to persuade him to stay." "Then," she said hurriedly, "sit here, and I shall sit here. We'll meet Dan together when he comes in." They had hardly taken their places when Barry entered, the wolf at his heels; at the door he paused to flash a glance at them and then crossed the room. On the farther side he stopped again. "I might be tellin' you," he said in his soft voice, "that now's Bart's well I got to be travellin' again. I start in the morning." The pleading eyes of Kate raised Byrne to his feet. "My dear Mr. Barry!" he called. The other turned again and waited. "Do you mean that you will leave us while Mr. Cumberland is in this critical condition?" A shadow crossed the face of Barry. "I'd stay if I could," he answered. "But it ain't possible!" "What takes you away is your affair, sir," said the doctor. "My concern is Mr. Cumberland. He is in a very precarious condition. The slightest nerve shock may have--fatal--results." Dan Barry sighed. "Seemed to me," he answered, "that he was buckin' up considerable. Don't look so thin, doc." "His body may be well enough," said the doctor calmly, "but his nerves are wrecked. I am afraid to prophesy the consequences if you leave him." It was apparent that a great struggle was going on in Barry. He answered at length: "How long would I have to stay? One rain could wipe out all the sign and make me like a blind man in the desert. Doc, how long would I have to stay?" "A few days," answered Byrne, "may work wonders with him." The other hesitated. "I'll go up and talk with him," he said, "and what he wants I'll do." CHAPTER XXIX TALK He was long in getting his answer. The hours dragged on slowly for Kate and the doctor, for if Joe Cumberland could hold Dan it was everything to the girl, and if Barry left at once there might be some root for the hope which was growing stronger and stronger every day in the heart of Randall Byrne. Before evening a not unwelcome diversion broke the suspense somewhat. It was the arrival of no less a person than Marshal Jeff Calkins. His shoulders were humped and his short legs bowed from continual riding, and his head was slung far forward on a gaunt neck; so that when he turned his head from one to another in speaking it was with a peculiar pendulum motion. The marshal had a reputation which was strong over three hundred miles and more of a mountain-desert. This was strange, for the marshal was a very talkative man, and talkative men are not popular on the desert; but it has been discovered that on occasion his six-gun could speak as rapidly and much more accurately than his tongue. So Marshal Calkins waxed in favour. He set the household at ease upon his arrival by announcing that "they hadn't nothin' for him there." All he wanted was a place to bunk in, some chow, and a feed for the horse. His trail led past the Cumberland Ranch many and many a dreary mile.