Then an outer door slammed and a light step, at an almost running pace speeded down the hall, the door was swung wide again, and Dan was before them. He seemed to bring with him the keen, fresh air of the light, and at the opening of the door the flame in the lamp jumped in its chimney, shook, and fell slowly back to its original dimness; but by that glow of light they saw that the sombrero upon Dan Barry's head was a shapeless mass--his bandana had been torn away, leaving his throat bare--his slicker was a mass of rents and at the neck had been crumpled and torn in a thousand places as though strong teeth had worried it to a rag. Spots of mud were everywhere on his boots, even on his sombrero with its sagging brim, and on one side of his face there was a darker stain. He had ceased his whistling, indeed, but now he stood at the door and hummed as he gazed about the room. Straight to Kate Cumberland he walked, took her hands, and raised her from the chair. He said, and there was a fibre and ring in his voice that made them catch their breaths: "There's something outside that I'm following to-night. I don't know what it is. It is the taste of the wind and the feel of the air and the smell of the ground. And I've got to be ridin'. I'm saying good-bye for a bit, Kate." "Dan," she cried, "what's happened? What's on your face?" "The mark of the night," he answered. "I don't know what else. Will you come with me, Kate?" "For how long? Where are you going, Dan!" "I don't know where or how long. All I know is I've got to be going. Come to the window. Take the air on your face. You'll understand!" He drew her after him and cast up the window. "Do you feel it in the wind" he called to her, turning with a transfigured face. "Do you hear it?" She could not speak but stood with her face lifted, trembling. "Look at me!" he commanded, and turned her roughly towards him. There he stood leaning close to her, and the yellow light flickered and waned and burned again in his eyes. He had held her hands while he stared. Now he dropped them with an exclamation. "You're blank," he said angrily. "You've seen nothing and heard nothing." He turned on his heel. "Bart!" he called, and walked from the room, and they heard the padding of his soft step down the hall and on the porch and then--silence. Black Bart slunk to the door and into the hall, but instantly he was back and peering into the gloom of the silent place like an evil-eyed spectre. A sharp whistle rang from outside, and Black Bart started. Still he glided on until he stood before Kate; then turned and stalked slowly towards the door, looking back after her. She did not move, and with a snarl the wolf-dog whirled again and trotted back to her. This time he caught a fold of her skirt in his teeth and pulled on it. And under the pressure she made a step. "Kate!" called Joe Cumberland. "Are you mad, girl, to dream of goin' out in a night like this?"