o let him die, Joan?" he cried, the hot blood
staining his cheeks and brow. "I tell you he won't. I swear to you,
sure, sure, he shan't die a murderer's death! I tell you right here,
little gal, ther' ain't a sheriff in the country big enough to take
him. He says he must give up to arrest when the time comes. Wal, he'll
have to do it over my dead body."

His words were in answer to Joan's appeal, but they were hurled at the
man beside the fire, and were a defiance and a challenge from the
depths of a loyal heart.

The Padre's smile was good to see. But he shook his head. And
instantly Joan caught at the enthusiasm which stirred her lover and
hugged it to herself. She sprang to her feet, and a wonderful light
shone in her eyes.

"Buck is right, Padre. He is right," she cried. "Do you hear? You
shall not take the risk, you must not. Oh, Padre! you must live for
our sakes. We know your innocence, then what more is needed after all
these years? For once let us be your mentors--you who have always been
the mentor of others. Padre, Padre, you owe this to us. Think of it!
Think of what it would mean. A murderer's death! You shall not, you
cannot give yourself up. Buck is right. I, too, am with him."

She turned to the man at her side, and, raising her arms, clasped her
hands about his neck.

"Buck--my Buck. Let us swear together that, while we have life, he
shall never be the victim of this crazy, terrible woman. It shall be
our fight--yours and mine."

Buck gazed down into her beautiful, pleading eyes as he clasped her
slim body in his strong, young arms. Her eyes were alight with a love,
radiant in its supremacy over her whole being. Her championship of his
innocent friend would have endeared her a thousandfold had such a
thing been possible. In that moment it was as though her courage, her
loyalty, had completed the bond between them. His jaws gritted tight.
His eyes shone with a fervent resolution.

"It goes, little gal," he cried. "It's our lives for his. It sure
goes--every time."

CHAPTER XXIX

BEASLEY IN HIS ELEMENT

The camp was sweltering under an abnormal heat. There was not one
breath of the usual invigorating mountain air. A few more degrees of
humidity, and the cup of endurance would have been filled to
overflowing and toiling humanity breathing something like sheer
moisture. The sky was heavy and gray, and a dull sun, as though it too
had been rendered faint-hearted, was painfully strugglin