At the first note, Pal obliged with a banshee wail that subsided, then gathered force and mounted again. The sound filled the cabin and offered the illusion of being not only real, but all reality. It was as though the door burst open of its own accord, and Jeff rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Ike Wilson stood framed in the doorway. He was slim, supple, smiling, but behind the smile there was something hard as stone and there was nothing to provoke humor in the cocked, double-barreled shotgun he carried. Half erect in his chair, Barr froze there. Pete's face turned white. Ike grinned happily. "Hi, peddler!" "Hi, Ike! Where the blazes did you come from?" "Broadview Prison. Stopped by Granny's an' she told me you was about. Heerd the dog howl an' calc'lated you'd be nigh." His chuckle was rich and very audible. "I didn't expect a hul nest of you. Good thing I peered in the window glass afore I come in." Barr snarled, "This ain't your mix!" "Oh, yes, it is! Yes, it is my mix! Now just hand me that lil' old rifle gun, Barr. Stock foremost." Fighting against so doing but unable to help himself, Barr relinquished his rifle. Ike threw it through the open door. "Now, Pete," he coaxed, "I need your'n." Pete remained rooted. Smiling, but with a deadly something behind the smile, Ike tightened his finger on the shotgun's trigger. "Don't like to shoot settin' pat'tidges, but I will." Pete handed his rifle over. Ike tossed it out and slammed the door. Holding the shotgun with one hand, he drew a length of buckskin from his pocket and whipped it straight. He spoke as though he were addressing a petulant child. "Now just put your hands behin't the chair, Barr. This shotgun might go off accidental like, an' it makes quite a hole." Tight-lipped, Barr did as he was ordered. Expertly Ike laced his hands and then his feet. He approached Jeff apologetically. "'Feard I'll have to tie you too, peddler." "But--" "Now don't gimme no fuss." Ike rubbed the friendly Pal's head. "Jest do like Uncle Ike says." Jeff thrust his hands behind the chair and permitted himself to be bound. Ike slipped a rawhide thong through Pal's collar and tied him to the chair rung. He stood erect and looked around, his manner that of one who has just done a job and done it well. Jeff asked, "What's the big idea, Ike?" Ike chuckled again. "Business! Say, how come these Whitneys had a gun on you?" "Barr," Jeff inclined his head, "had the idea that I'm a policeman." "Fer snort's sake!" Ike faced Barr. "Your brain soft? He's a peddler an' a good 'un. I ought to know. I was in jail with him." "Leave me loose," Barr snarled, "an' I won't hurt ye." "'Pears to me you won't anyhow." "Ye'll not git back down the ridge!" "Now, now," Ike soothed, "jest leave that to Uncle Ike. I got up it, didn't I?"