The Untamed

by Max Brand

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  THE SONG OF THE UNTAMED

  Buck and his father were learning of a thousand crimes charged againstDan. Wherever a man riding a black horse committed an outrage it waslaid to the account of this new and most terrible of long riders.Two cowpunchers were found dead on the plains. Their half-emptiedrevolvers lay close to their hands, and their horses were not far off.In ordinary times it would have been accepted that they had killedeach other, for they were known enemies, but now men had room for onethought only. And why should not a man with the courage to take anoutlaw from the centre of Elkhead be charged with every crime on therange? Jim Silent had been a grim plague, but at least he was human.This devil defied death.

  These were both sad and happy days for Kate. The chief cause of hersadness, strangely enough, was the rapidly returning strength ofDan. While he was helpless he belonged to her. When he was stronghe belonged to his vengeance on Jim Silent; and when she heard Danwhistling softly his own wild, weird music, she knew its meaning asshe would have known the wail of a hungry wolf on a winter night. Itwas the song of the untamed. She never spoke of her knowledge. Shetook the happiness of the moment to her heart and closed her eyesagainst tomorrow.

  Then came an evening when she watched Dan play with Black Bart--agame of tag in which they darted about the room with a violencewhich threatened to wreck the furniture, but running with such softfootfalls that there was no sound except the rattle of Bart's clawsagainst the floor and the rush of their breath. They came to an abruptstop and Dan dropped into a chair while Black Bart sank upon hishaunches and snapped at the hand which Dan flicked across his facewith lightning movements. The master fell motionless and silent. Hiseyes forgot the wolf. Rising, they rested on Kate's face. They roseagain and looked past her.

  She understood and waited.

  "Kate," he said at last, "I've got to start on the trail."

  Her smile went out. She looked where she knew his eyes were staring,through the window and far out across the hills where the shadowsdeepened and dropped slanting and black across the hollows. Far awaya coyote wailed. The wind which swept the hills seemed to her like arefrain of Dan's whistling--the song and the summons of the untamed.

  "That trail will never bring you home," she said.

  There was a long silence.

  "You ain't cryin', honey?"

  "I'm not crying, Dan."

  "I got to go."

  "Yes."

  "Kate, you got a dyin' whisper in your voice."

  "That will pass, dear."

  "Why, honey, you _are_ cryin'!"

  He took her face between his hands, and stared into her misted eyes,but then his glance wandered past her, through the window, out to theshadowy hills.

  "You won't leave me now?" she pleaded.

  "I must!"

  "Give me one hour more!"

  "Look!" he said, and pointed.

  She saw Black Bart reared up with his forepaws resting on thewindow-sill, while he looked into the thickening night with the eyesof the hunter which sees in the dark.

  "The wolf knows, Kate," he said, "but I can't explain."

  He kissed her forehead, but she strained close to him and raised herlips.

  She cried, "My whole soul is on them."

  "Not that!" he said huskily. "There's still blood on my lips an' I'mgoin' out to get them clean."

  He was gone through the door with the wolf racing before him.

  She stumbled after him, her arms outspread, blind with tears; andthen, seeing that he was gone indeed, she dropped into the chair,buried her face against the place where his head had rested, and wept.Far away the coyote wailed again, and this time nearer.