x, he sat down
and addressed himself to Curly Saunders, who happened to be lying on
his elbow nearest the door.

"Say, I just came along to give you word that vittles are on the way
from Leeson Butte," he said, as though the fact was of no serious
importance.

Curly, a short, thick-set man of enormous strength and round, youngish
face, eased himself into a half-sitting position. But before he could
answer another man, with iron-gray hair, sat up alertly and eyed their
visitor without much friendliness.

"More o' the Padre's charity?" he said, in a manner that suggested
resentment at the benefit he had no intention of refusing. Curiously
enough, too, his careless method of expression in no way disguised the
natural refinement of his voice.

Buck shook his head, and his eyes were cold.

"Don't guess there's need of charity among friends, Beasley."

Beasley Melford laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh.

"Guess it makes him feel good dopin' out stuff to us same as if we was
bums," he said harshly.

"Shut up!" cried a voice from a remote corner. Buck looked over and
saw a lean, dark man hugging his knees and smoking a well-burnt briar
pipe. The same voice went on: "Guess you'd sicken most anybody,
Beasley. You got a mean mind. Guess the Padre's a hell of a bully
feller."

"He sure is," said Montana Ike, lolling over on to his side and
pushing his canvas kit-bag into a more comfortable position. "You was
sayin' there was vittles comin' along, Buck? Guess ther' ain't no
'chawin'' now?"

"Tobacco, sure," responded Buck with a smile.

One by one the men sat up on their frowsy blankets. The thought of
provisions seemed to have roused them from their lethargy. Buck's eyes
wandered over the faces peering at him out of the murky shadows. The
squalor of the hut was painful, and, with the knowledge that help was
at hand, the sight struck him even more forcibly.

"Quit work?" he asked a moment later, in his abrupt fashion.

Somebody laughed.

Buck looked round for an answer. And again his eyes caught the steely,
ironical gleam in the man Beasley's.

"The last o' Slaney's kids 'passed in' last night. Guess we're goin'
to bury her."

Buck nodded. He had no words. But he carefully avoided looking in the
direction of Slaney Dick, who sat in a far corner smoking his pipe and
hugging his great knees.

Beasley went on in the same half-mocking tone--

"Guess it's up to me to read the service over her."

"You!"

Buc