"I'll remember him. By the way, I see you got a little token of
Whistlin' Dan on your arm."
He pointed to the bandage on Buck's right forearm.
"It ain't nothin'," said Buck, shrugging his shoulders. "The cuts are all healin' up. The arm's as good as ever now."
"Anyway," said Silent, "you got somethin' comin' to you for the play you made agin that devil."
He reached into his pocket, drew out several twenty dollar gold pieces (money was never scarce with a lone rider) and passed them to Buck. The latter received the coin gingerly, hesitated, and then returned it to the hand of the chief.
"What the hell's the matter?" snarled the big outlaw. "Ain't it enough?"
"I don't want no money till I earn it," said Buck.
"Life's gettin' too peaceful for you, eh?" grinned Silent.
"Speakin' of peace," chimed in Purvis, with a liberal wink at the rest of the gang, "Buck allows he's the boy who c'n bring the dove o' the same into this camp. He says he knows the way to bring the girl over there to see reason."
Buck followed the direction of Purvis's eyes and saw Kate sitting on a rock at a little distance from the shanty in which she lived with her father. She made a pitiful figure, her chin cupped in her hand, and her eyes staring fixedly down the valley. He was recalled from her by the general laughter of the outlaws.