There was ample reason for the prickling in his scalp,
Vic felt, for here he sat on an errand of consummate danger with three of
these deadly fighters. Two of them he knew by name and repute, however
dimly, and as for Buck Daniels, unless all signs failed the dark,
sharp-eyed fellow was hardly less grim than the others. Vic gauged the
three one by one. Daniels might be dreaded for an outburst of wild temper
and in that moment he could be as terrible as any. Lee Haines would fight
coolly, his blue eyes never clouded by passion, for that was his repute as
the right hand man of Jim Silent, in the days when Jim had been a terrible,
half-legendary figure. One felt that same quiet strength as the tawny
haired man talked to Barry now; his voice was a smooth, deep current. But
as for Barry himself, Gregg could not compute the factors which entered
into the man. By all outward seeming that slender, half-timid figure was
not a tithe of the force which either of the others represented, but out of
the past Gregg's memory gathered more and more details, clear and clearer,
of the wolf-dog, the black stallion, and the whistling man who tracked down
Silent--"Whistling Dan" Barry; that was what they called him, sometimes.
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