much afraid of you then. But now you're gettin' cool an' quiet,
an' you think deep, an' I don't like the light in your eye. It
reminds me of your father."

"I wonder what Dad would say to me to-day if he were alive and
here," said Duane.

"What do you think? What could you expect of a man who never
wore a glove on his right hand for twenty years?"

"Well, he'd hardly have said much. Dad never talked. But he
would have done a lot. And I guess I'll go down-town and let
Cal Bain find me."

Then followed a long silence, during which Duane sat with
downcast eyes, and the uncle appeared lost in sad thought of
the future. Presently he turned to Duane with an expression
that denoted resignation, and yet a spirit which showed wherein
they were of the same blood.

"You've got a fast horse--the fastest I know of in this
country. After you meet Bain hurry back home. I'll have a
saddle-bag packed for you and the horse ready."

With that he turned on his heel and went into the house,
leaving Duane to revolve in his mind his singular speech. Buck
wondered presently if he shared his uncle's opinion of the
result of a meeting between himself and Bain. His thoughts were
vague. But on the instant of final decision, when he had
settled with himself that he would meet Bain, such a storm of