"Joan!" called a voice from beyond, and the soft fiber of it made Vic
certain that it belonged to the rider of the black stallion. The little
girl ran a step towards the door, and then stopped and shrank back against
the bed.
"If you're afraid your Dad'll find you here," said Vic, "just you run
along."
She was nervously twisting her hands in her dress.
"Daddy Dan'll know," she whispered without turning. "And--and--he won't let
me be afraid---even of him!"
A small hand slipped up, fumbled a bit, found the thumb of Vic Gregg, and
closed softly over it. With this to steady her, she waited, facing the
door.
Chapter VIII. Discipline
A light step crossed the outer room, with something peculiar in its
lightness, as if the heel were not touching the floor, with the effect of
the padded fall of the feet of some great cat; there was both softness and
the sense of weight. First the wolf-dog pricked his ears and turned towards
the door, the pudgy fist closed convulsively over Vic's thumb, and then his
rescuer stood in the entrance.
"Hello, partner," called Vic.
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