"It's Barry's black.

They ain't another hoss like him on the range.

An' the wolf--thank God!--ain't with him." But Mac Strann closed the door of the stall, frowning thoughtfully, and thought on the face of Strann was a convulsion of pain.

He dropped the second match to his feet, where it ignited a wisp of straw that sent up a puff of light.
"Ah-h!" drawled Mac Strann.

"The wolf ain't here, but we'll soon have him here.