“Oh, Buck, Buck! For the love of Heaven say something—do something,” she appealed. “They will kill him for a crime—of which he is innocent.”
Suddenly the Padre’s eyes glowed with a strange light of happiness. The girl’s appeal to Buck had been the one saving touch in the midst of the cloud of tribulation overshadowing him. The daughter of his best friend, the daughter of the man he was supposed to have done to death, had given her verdict. She believed in his innocence. He sighed with the depth of his thankfulness. He could now face whatever lay before him with perfect equanimity.
But Buck had yet to play his part in the little drama so swiftly working itself out. His part was far different to the passive attitude of the other man. He had no tolerance for the possible sacrifice of an innocent life at the demand of a crazy woman who had come so nearly wrecking the life of the girl he loved. As Joan appealed to him his eyes lit with a sudden fire of rebellion. And his answer came in a hot rush.
“You think I’m goin’ to let him die, Joan?” he cried, the hot blood staining his cheeks and brow. “I tell you he won’t. I swear to you, sure, sure, he shan’t die a murderer’s death! I tell you right here, little gal, ther’ ain’t a sheriff in the country big enough to take him. He says he must give up to arrest when the time comes. Wal, he’ll have to do it over my dead body.”
His words were in answer to Joan’s appeal, but they were hurled at the man beside the fire, and were a defiance and a challenge from the depths of a loyal heart.
The Padre’s smile was good to see. But he shook his head. And instantly Joan caught at the enthusiasm which stirred her lover and hugged it to herself. She sprang to her feet, and a wonderful light shone in her eyes.
“Buck is right, Padre. He is right,” she cried. “Do you hear? You shall not take the risk, you must not. Oh, Padre! you must live for our sakes. We know your innocence, then what more is needed after all these years? For once let us be your mentors—you who have always been the mentor of others. Padre, Padre, you owe this to us. Think of it! Think of what it would mean. A murderer’s death! You shall not, you cannot give yourself up. Buck is right. I, too, am with him.”
She turned to the man at her side, and, raising her arms, clasped her hands about his neck.
“Buck—my Buck. Let us swear together that, while we have life, he shall never be the victim of this crazy, terrible woman. It shall be our fight—yours and mine.”