“Not on your life, Padre!”
The elder man sighed as he stood up, and his look changed so that it almost seemed as if a weight had been lifted from his mind. Their eyes met as Buck swung himself into the saddle.
“Then we’re going to the hills—together?” he said smilingly.
“Sure,” responded Buck promptly. Then he added, “But we’re goin’ to hunt—not farm.”
His decisive manner left no room for doubt, and the Padre, moving over to him, held out his hand. They gripped till the elder man winced.
“I’m glad I found you on the trail that time,” he said, looking squarely into the steady brown eyes. “I’ve always been glad, but—I’m gladder still now.”
“Me, too,” said Buck, with a light laugh. “Guess I’d have hated to ha’ fed the coyotes.”
Buck swung round to the trail, leading his packhorse, and the Padre went back to his horse. Just as he was about to mount the younger man’s voice reached him again. He paused.
“Say, what’s the woman’s name?” Buck inquired.
“Eh?” The Padre looked startled. “The woman that bought the farm?”