Then he turned Satan and cantered, with
the piebald trailing, back towards Black Bart.
At this the wolf-dog began to trot down the street, turned the next
corner, and drew up at the door of a rambling building above which hung
a dirty, cracked sign: "GILEAD SALOON" and underneath in smaller
letters was painted the legend: "Here's where you get it!"
Black Bart strolled up to the swinging doors of the emporium and then
turned to look back at his master; clearly he wished Dan to enter the
place. But the rider shook his head and would certainly have ridden on
had not, at that moment, the rain which had hitherto fallen only in
rattling bursts, now burst over the roofs of the town with a loud
roaring as of wind through a forest. It was possible that the shower
might soon pass over, so Dan rode under the long shelter which stretched
in front of the saloon, dismounted, and entered behind Black Bart.
It was occupied by a scattering of people, for the busy time of the day
had not yet commenced and Pale Annie was merely idling behind the
bar--working at half-speed, as it were. To this group Black Bart paid
not the slightest heed but glided smoothly down the centre of the long
room until he approached the tables at the end, where, in a corner, sat
a squat, thick-chested man, and opposite him the most cadaverously lean
fellow that Whistling Dan had ever seen. Before these two Black Bart
paused and then cast a glance over his shoulder towards the master;
Whistling Dan frowned in wonder; he knew neither of the pair.
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