so,
and--he was glad.

Buck turned toward the door, and, as he did so, his arm affectionately
linked into that of his friend.

"We'll need that supper, Padre," he said, more soberly. "There's a
long night, and it ain't easy to guess what may happen before
daylight. Come right along."

They passed the doorway, but proceeded no farther. Buck held up his
hand, and they stood listening.

"Wait! Hark!" he cried, and both turned their eyes toward the westward
hills.

As they stood, a low, faint growl of thunder murmured down the distant
hillsides, and died away in the long-drawn sigh of a rising wind. The
wind swept on, and the rustling trees and suddenly creaking branches
of the forest answered that sharp, keen breath.

"It's coming--from the northwest," said the Padre, as though the
direction were significant.

"Yes." Buck nodded with understanding. "That's wher' the other come
from."

They stood for some moments waiting for a further sign. But nothing
came. The night was pitch black. There was no break anywhere in the
sky. The lamplight in the house stared out sharp and clear, but the
house itself, as with the barns and other outbuildings, the stockade,
even the line of the tree tops where they met the sky, was quite lost
in the inky night.

"It'll come quick," said the Padre.

"Sure."

They moved on to the house, and in a few minutes were sitting down to
one of those silent meals which was so much a part of their habit. Yet
each man was alert. Each man was thinking of those things which they
knew to be threatening. Each man was ready for what might be
forthcoming. Be it tempest or disaster, be it battle or death, each
was ready to play his part, each was ready to accept the verdict as it
might be given.

Buck was the first to push back from the table. He rose from his seat
and lit his pipe. Then, as the pungent fumes lolled heavily on the
superheated air, he passed over to the open window and took his seat
upon the sill.

The Padre was more leisurely. He remained in his seat and raked out
the bowl of his pipe with the care of a keen smoker. Then he cut his
tobacco carefully from his plug, and rolled it thoughtfully in the
palms of his hands.

"Say, about little Joan," he said abruptly. "Will she join us on----?"

His question remained unfinished. At that instant Buck sprang from his
seat and leant out of the window. The Padre was at his side in an
instant.

"What----?"

"Holy Mackinaw! Look!" c