Jeff understood and relaxed. Many of the mountain people believed firmly in haunts, spirits and witchcraft. And everybody around Smithville had reason to believe that Pal must be dead. With an effort, Jeff concealed his amusement. A man such as this, thinking Johnny Blazer's dog dead and coming suddenly upon him, might tremble easily. "You did see him," Jeff said. "He's here." "He be?" For a split second, Pete's eyes lost their lack-luster appearance and venom flooded them. A cold finger brushed Jeff's spine. Any man able to look like that was a dangerous one. Jeff thought of his pack and of the shotgun in its corner. Then he decided that he could handle Pete, and meanwhile there were the amenities to be observed. "Had breakfast?" "Nao." "Come on in and have some." Pete shuffled into the cabin. Mouth taut and eyes angry, Dan backed toward Pal. The dog growled savagely. Jeff's eyes caught Dan's and he tried to flash a warning. He and Dan had a pact which included no hasty or ill-timed moves and definitely no shooting of anyone. Jeff spoke sharply to the dog. "Stop it, Pal!" Pal subsided and Pete said nasally, "Blazer allus call't him Buster." "He's Pal now." Jeff set a plate of bacon and eggs on the table and put bread and butter beside it. "You may as well start, Dan." Unable completely to erase the anger from his eyes, not speaking, Dan sat down and began to eat. Jeff put the bacon and eggs he had intended for himself on another plate. Thoughtfully he set the plate on the other side of the table, two places away from the furious Dan. "Here you are, Mr.--?" "Whitney's the name. Pete Whitney." "I'm Jeff Tarrant and this is Dan Blazer." "Yeah?" Interest leaped in Pete's eyes. "Any kin to John?" "He was my pop!" Dan flared. "That you know very well!" "Dan, mind your manners!" Jeff remonstrated, putting more bacon and eggs in the skillet. "I'm minding them! He knows who my pop was and he knows me!" Pete, who had been eating as though finishing the meal was a job he had to complete in a great hurry, put his fork down and bent over his plate. Again Jeff thought uncomfortably of a hunted animal, and though he could not see Pete's eyes, he was sure that they were once more venom-ridden. There was an awkward silence which Pete broke. "Seems to me I do mind a young'un comin' to see John." Dan flared again. "Do you also 'mind' that my pop was shot? Maybe you even know who shot him!" "Dan!" Jeff thundered. For a few seconds Pete lingered over his food. Then it was as though he had thought out a decision which had been hard to make. He speared half an egg, curled a whole strip of bacon on the end of his fork, shoved everything into his mouth and began to chew noisily. "Nao," he said. "I wouldn't knaow who done fer John." "Dan's upset," Jeff explained. "He didn't realize what he was saying."