I am not sorry; for, to say
truth, I don't want to force any one into such a line of life--and he
does not look as if he'd be fit for it, or anything else, for many a day
to come."

"But how does it happen that you are in such straits just now?" asked
Charlie, seeing that Buck paused, and seemed unwilling to make further
explanations.

"Well, the fact is, we have not been successful of late; no chances have
come in our way, and two of our best men have taken their departure--one
to gold-digging in California, the other to the happy hunting grounds of
the Redskin, or elsewhere. Luck, in short, seems to have forsaken us.
Pious folk," he added, with something of a sneer, "would say, no doubt,
that God had forsaken us."

"I think pious people would not say so, and they would be wrong if they
did," returned Charlie. "In my opinion God never forsakes any one; but
when His creatures forsake him He thwarts them. It cannot be otherwise
if His laws are to be vindicated."

"It may be so. But what have I done," said Buck Tom fiercely, "to merit
the bad treatment and insufferable injustice which I have received since
I came to this accursed land? I cannot stand injustice. It makes my
blood boil, and so, since it is rampant here, and everybody has been
unjust to me, I have made up my mind to pay them back in their own coin.
There seems to me even a spice of justice in that."

"I wonder that you cannot see the fallacy of your reasoning, Ritson,"
replied Charlie. "You ask, `What have I done?' The more appropriate
question would be, `What have I _not_ done?' Have you not, according to
your own confession, rebelled against your Maker and cast Him off; yet
you expect Him to continue His supplies of food to you; to keep up your
physical strength and powers of enjoying life, and, under the name of
Luck, to furnish you with the opportunity of breaking His own commands
by throwing people in your way to be robbed! Besides which, have you
not yourself been guilty of gross injustice in leading poor weak Shank
Leather into vicious courses--to his great, if not irreparable, damage?
I don't profess to teach theology, Ralph Ritson, my old friend, but I do
think that even an average cow-boy could understand that a rebel has no
claim to forgiveness--much less to favour--until he lays down his arms
and gives in."

"Had any other man but you, Charlie Brooke, said half as much as you
have just said to me, I would have blown his brains ou