Without a word the three returned to their seats close by the fire, and sat silent, staring. Presently the rattle of the wolf's claws came on the floor; then Dan entered with his soft step and stood behind Kate's chair. They were used to his silent comings and goings. Black Bart was slinking up and down the room with a restless step. His eyes glowed from the shadow, and as Joe looked up to the face of Dan he saw the same light repeated there, yellow and strange. Then, like the wolf, Dan turned and commenced that restless pacing up and down, up and down, a padding step like the fall of a panther's paw. "The wild geese--" he said suddenly, and then stopped. "They are flying south?" said Kate. "South!" he repeated. His eyes looked far away. The wolf slipped to his side and licked his hand. "Kate, I'd like to follow the wild geese." Old Joe shaded his eyes and the big hands of Buck were locked together. "Are you unhappy, Dan?" she said. "The snow is come," he muttered uneasily. He began pacing again with that singular step. "When I went out to Satan in the corral this evenin', I found him standin' lookin' south." She rose and faced him with a little gesture of surrender. "Then you must follow the wild geese, Dan!" "You don't mind me goin', Kate?" "No." "But your eyes are shinin'!" "It's only the reflection of the firelight." Black Bart whined softly. Suddenly Dan straightened and threw up his arms, laughing low with exultation. Buck Daniels shuddered and dropped his head. "I am far behind," said Dan, "but I'll go fast." He caught her in his arms, kissed her eyes and lips, and then whirled and ran from the room with that noiseless, padding step. "Kate!" groaned Buck Daniels, "you've let him go! We've all lost him for ever!" A sob answered him. "Go call him back," pleaded Joe. "He will stay for your sake." She whispered: "I would rather call back the wild geese who flew across the moon. And they are only beautiful when they are wild!" "But you've lost him, Kate, don't you understand?" "The wild geese fly north again in spring," said Buck, "and he'll--" "Hush!" she said. "Listen!" Far off, above the rushing of the wind, they heard the weird whistling, a thrilling and unearthly music. It was sad with the beauty of the night. It was joyous with the exultation of the wind. It might have been the voice of some god who rode the northern storm south, south after the wild geese, south with the untamed. THE END End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Untamed, by Max Brand