"I certainly will. You'd better hurry, or it'll be too late, Oliver."
Not until they were gone did Little Buck Wolfe realize fully just what he had done. He had put himself into the place of an accessory to the crime of arson, and he was liable to almost as much punishment as the principals themselves! The thought was staggering to him. He began to pace the veranda floor nervously.
Tot Singleton appeared before him. She understood fully. She strove to make him feel that he had but done right.
"Don't feel so blue about it, Little Buck," she said to him gently. "What else could you do? Their families need them more than the prison needs them. They're as sorry now as the penitentiary ever could make them. Besides, the mountain man can't stand imprisonment for long; most of 'em wouldn't live through the fifteen years—that's what I understood Mr. Fair to say it would be. You m-mustn't worry, Little Buck!"
Wolfe stepped to his father and took him by the arm.
"We must go," he whispered. "Cartwright will soon be here. I must have you hidden before he comes. We must go!"
"I guess," Old Buck demurred, "I'd better let Cartwright have me."
"No! Let's go—for mother's sake. You must think of her, and not of yourself. You've been too unkind to her in the past." He was fairly dragging his sire toward the steps. "Quick—we must be quick. Fair may come back at any minute, and he—let's go!"
Old Buck permitted his son to lead him out of the yard and away in the murky drizzle.
