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58 “You go out.”

She went swiftly, at that, sidled past her father with her eyes lifted, fascinated, and so out the door where she paused an instant to flash back a wistful appeal. Nothing but silence, and then her feet pattering off into the outer room.

“Maybe you better go keep her company, Bart,” said the father, and at this sign of relenting Vic felt his tensed muscles relaxing; the wolf whined softly and glided through the door.

“You feeling better?”

“Like a hoss off green feed. I been lyin' here drinkin' up the sunshine.”

The other stood beside the open window and there he canted his head, his glance far off and intent.

“D'you hear?” he asked, turning sharply.

There was a fierce eagerness in his face.

“Hear what?”

“It's spring,” he murmured, without answering more directly than this, and Vic felt that the other had changed again, grown understandable. Nevertheless, the shock of that sudden alteration at the window kept him watching his host with breathless interest. Whatever it was that the strange fellow heard, a light had gleamed in his eyes for a moment. As he sauntered back towards the bed just a trace of it lingered about him, a hint of sternness.

“Spring?” answered Gregg. “Yep, I smelled spring a few days back and I started out to find some action.