t now something of the smallness of human life, of human aims and
efforts, of human emotions, was occupying the busy brain behind his
reflective eyes. The scene before him, upon which he had so often
looked, never failed to remind him of the greatness of that which lay
beyond the ken of man. Somehow it exalted his thoughts to planes to
which no association with his kind could ever have exalted them. It
never failed to inspire him with a reverence for the infinity of power
which crowned the glory of creation, and reduced self to a humble
realization of its atomic place in the great scheme of the Creator.

His horse ambled easily over the ribbon-like trail, which seemed to
rise out of the eastern horizon from nowhere, and lose itself
somewhere ahead, amidst the dark masses of forest-crowned hills. The
journey was nearly over. Somewhere ahead lay the stable, which could
be reached at leisure in the cool of the evening, and neither master
nor beast seemed to feel the need for undue haste.

As the light slowly faded out and left the snow-white hill-crests drab
with the gray of twilight, the man's mind reverted to those things
which had sent him on his journey. Many doubts had assailed him by the
way, doubts which set him debating with himself, but which rarely made
him turn from a purpose his mind was once set upon. He knew that his
action involved more than his own personal welfare, and herein had
lain the source of his doubt. But he had clearly argued every point
with himself, and through it all had felt the rightness of his
purpose.

Then, too, he had had the support of that other with whom he was
concerned. And he smiled as he thought of the night when his decision
had been taken. Even now the picture remained in his mind of the eager
face of his youthful protege as they discussed the matter. The younger
man had urged vehemently, protesting at every objection, that they two
had no right to live in comparative comfort with women and children
starving about them.

He remembered young Buck's eager eyes, large dark-brown eyes that
could light with sudden, almost volcanic heat, or smile their soft,
lazy smile of amusement at the quaintnesses of life about him. The
Padre understood the largeness of heart, the courage which urged him,
the singleness of purpose which was always his. Then, when their
decision had been taken, he remembered the abrupt falling back of the
man into the quiet, almost monosyllabic manner which usua