Finally the tight fingers opened out, and Satan gathered
the last crumbs from the smooth palm.
Two or three times during this performance Black Bart had half risen from
his haunches and a growl swelled almost inaudibly in his throat, but now he
stalked around the table and pushed his narrow head between Dan's shoulder
and the stallion. A snarl of incredible ferocity made Satan turn, but
without the slightest dread, apparently. For an instant the two stood nose
to nose, Black Bart a picture of snarling danger and Satan with curiously
pricking ears and bright eyes. The growling rose towards a crescendo, a
terrible sound; then a lean hand shot out with that speed which Joan could
never comprehend--and which always made her think, rather breathlessly, of
the strike of a snake. The fingers settled around the muzzle of Bart.
"Of all the no-good houn'-dogs," declared Dan, "you're the worst, and the
most jealousest. Lie down!"
Bart obeyed, slowly, but his evil eyes were fixed upwards upon the head of
Satan.
"If you got any manners," remarked Dan, "you'll be sayin' that you're
sorry.
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