He found him busy amidst a pile of stores spread out upon the floor and table, and a mild surprise greeted the youngster as he looked round from his occupation.
"You never said--you were getting stores, Buck?"
The Padre eyed the pile curiously. Finally his eyes paused at the obvious ammunition cases.
Buck followed the direction of his gaze.
"No," he said; and turned again to his work of bestowing the goods in the places he had selected for them.
The Padre crossed the room and sat down. Then he leisurely began to exchange his moccasins for a pair of comfortable house-shoes.
"Had we run short?" he asked presently.
"No."
Buck's manner was touched with something like brusqueness.
"Then--why?"
Buck straightened up, bearing in his arms an ammunition box.
"Because we may need 'em," he said, and bestowed the box under the settle with a kick.
"I don't get you--that's revolver ammunition you just put away."
"Yes."
Buck continued his work until the room was cleared. The other watched him interestedly. Then as the younger man began to prepare their supper the Padre again reverted to it.
"Maybe you'll tell me about 'em--now?" he said, with his easy smile.
Buck had just set the kettle on the stove. He stood up, and a frown of perplexity darkened his brow.
"Maybe I won't be able to get to camp again," he said. "Maybe we'll need 'em for another reason."
"What other?"
"The sheriff's comin'. That woman's sent for him. I've figgered out he can't get along till 'bout to-morrow night, or the next mornin'. Anyway it don't do to reckon close on how quick a sheriff can git doin'."
The Padre's smile had died out of his eyes. He sighed.
"The sheriff's coming, eh?" Then he went on after a pause. "But these stores--I don't see----"
A dark flame suddenly lit Buck's eyes, but though he broke in quickly it was without the heat that was evidently stirring within him.
"They're for Joan, an' me--an' you. When the time comes guess we're going where no sheriff can follow us, if you don't make trouble. I don't guess you need tellin' of the valley below us. You know it, an' you know the steps. You know the canyon away on toward Devil's Hill. That's the way we're goin'--when the time comes. An' I'd say there ain't no sheriff or dep'ties'll care to follow us through that canyon. After that we cut away north. Ther's nobody can follow our trail that way."
Something almost of defiance grew into his voice as he proceeded. He was expecting denial, and was ready to resist it with all his force.