ad not yet gathered, therefore he set his quarrel aside for
the time when he could give it his undivided attention.

As he strode away the world seemed very wide to Buck. So wide, indeed,
that he had no idea of its limits, nor any desire to seek them. He
preferred that his eyes should dwell only upon those things which
presented themselves before a plain, wholesome vision. He had no
desire to peer into the tainted recesses of any other life than that
which he had always known. And in his outlook was to be witnessed the
careful guidance of his friend, the Padre. Nor was his capacity
stunted thereby, nor his strong manhood. On the contrary, it left him
with a great reserve of power to fight his little battle of the
wilderness.

Yet surely such a nature as his should have been dangerously open to
disaster. The guilelessness resulting from such a simplicity of life
ought surely to have fitted him for a headlong rush into the pitfalls
which are ever awaiting the unwary. This might have been so in a man
of less strength, less reckless purpose. Therein lay his greatest
safeguard. His was the strength, the courage, the resource of a mind
trained in the hard school of the battle for existence in the
wilderness, where, without subtlety, without fear, he walked over
whatever path life offered him, ready to meet every obstruction, every
disaster, with invincible courage.

It was through this very attitude that his threat against Beasley
Melford was not to be treated lightly. His comrades understood it.
Beasley himself knew it. Buck had assured him that he would shoot him
down like a dog if he offended against the unwritten laws of
instinctive chivalry as he understood them, and he would do it without
any compunction or fear of consequences.

A woman's fame to him was something too sacred to be lightly treated,
something quite above the mere consideration of life and death. The
latter was an ethical proposition which afforded him, where a high
principle was in the balance against it, no qualms whatsoever. It was
the inevitable result of his harsh training in the life that was his.
The hot, rich blood of strong manhood ran in his veins, but it was the
hot blood tempered with honesty and courage, and without one single
taint of meanness.

As he passed down the river bank, beyond which the racing waters
flowed a veritable torrent, he saw the camp women moving about outside
their huts. He saw them wringing out their rain-drenched