The Padre’s smile had died out of his eyes. He sighed.
“The sheriff’s coming, eh?” Then he went on after a pause. “But these stores—I don’t see——”
A dark flame suddenly lit Buck’s eyes, but though he broke in quickly it was without the heat that was evidently stirring within him.
“They’re for Joan, an’ me—an’ you. When the time comes guess we’re going where no sheriff can follow us, if you don’t make trouble. I don’t guess you need tellin’ of the valley below us. You know it, an’ you know the steps. You know the canyon away on toward Devil’s Hill. That’s the way we’re goin’—when the time comes. An’ I’d say there ain’t no sheriff or dep’ties’ll care to follow us through that canyon. After that we cut away north. Ther’s nobody can follow our trail that way.”
Something almost of defiance grew into his voice as he proceeded. He was expecting denial, and was ready to resist it with all his force.
The Padre shook his head.
“Buck, Buck, this is madness—rank madness,” he cried. “To resist the law in the way your hot head dictates is to outlaw yourselves beyond all redemption. You don’t understand what you are doing. You don’t know to what you are condemning this little Joan. You don’t know how surely your methods will condemn me.”
But Buck was on fire with rebellion against the injustice of a law which claimed the Padre as its victim. He saw the hideous possibilities following upon his friend’s arrest, and was determined to give his life in the service of his defense.
“It’s not madness,” he declared vehemently. “It’s justice, real justice that we should defend our freedom. If you wer’ guilty, Padre, it would be dead right to save yourself. It’s sure the right of everything to save its life. If you’re innocent you sure got still more right. Padre, I tell you they mean to fix you. That woman’s got a cinch she ain’t lettin’ go. She’s lived for this time, Joan’s told me. She’ll raise plumb hell to send you to your death. Padre, just listen to us. It’s me an’ Joan talkin’ now. What I say she says. We can see these things different to you; we’re young. You say it’s your duty to give up to this woman. We say it’s our duty you shan’t. If you give up to her you’re giving up to devil’s mischief, an’ that’s dead wrong. An’ nothin’ you can say can show me you got a right to help devil’s work. We’ll light out of here before they come. Us three. If you stop here, we stop too, an’ that’s why I got the ammunition. More than that. Ther’s others, too, won’t see you taken. Ther’s fellers with us in the camp—fellers who owe you a heap—like I do.”