left him quite unconscious of all time and
distance. The change wrought in Joan had been magical, and Caesar, for
once in his life, felt the sharp spur of impatience in the man's eager
desire to reach his friend and speak something of the gratitude he
felt.

But habit was strong upon Buck, and his gratitude found no outlet in
words when the moment came. Far from it. On his arrival he found the
Padre sitting at their fireside without even the most ordinary welcome
on his lips. A matter so unusual that it found Buck dumb, waiting for
the lead to come, as he knew it inevitably would, in the Padre's own
good time.

It took longer than he expected, however, and it was not until he had
prepared their frugal supper that the elder man stirred from his moody
contemplation of the fire.

He looked up, and a smile struggled painfully into his eyes.

"Hungry, Buck?" he inquired.

"So!"

"Ah! then sit right down here, boy, an' light your pipe. There's
things I want to say--first."

"Get right ahead." Buck drew up a chair, and obediently filled and lit
his pipe.

"Life's pretty twisted," the Padre began, his steady gray eyes smiling
contemplatively. "So twisted, it makes you wonder some. That girl's
happier now, because I told her there were no such things as cusses.
Yes, it's all queer."

He reached out and helped himself from Buck's tobacco pouch. Then he,
too, filled and lit his pipe.

"You've never asked me why I live out here," he went on presently.
"Never since I've known you. Once or twice I've seen the question in
your eyes, but--it never stayed there long. You don't ask many
questions, do you, Buck?"

The Padre puffed slowly at his pipe. His manner was that of a man
looking back upon matters which had suddenly acquired an added
interest for him. Yet the talk he desired to have with this youngster
inspired an ill-flavor.

"If folks want to answer questions ther' ain't no need to ask 'em."
Buck's philosophy interested the other, and he nodded.

"Just so. That's how it is with me--now. I want to tell you--what
you've never asked. You'll see the reason presently."

Buck waited. His whole manner suggested indifference. Yet there was a
thoughtful look in his dark eyes.

"That girl," the Padre went on, his gaze returning to a contemplation
of the fire. "She's put me in mind of something. She's reminded me how
full of twists and cranks life is. She's full of good. Full of good
thoughts and ideals. Yet life seem