For some moments Buck stared down at the sturdy friend who had taken the place of his dead father. His eyes softened, and their fire died out. But there was no rescinding of his desperate decision. He was thinking of what it would mean, the thought of this white-haired man in the hands of the executioner. He was thinking of the kindly heart beating within that stalwart bosom. He was thinking of the wonderful, thoughtful kindness for others which was always the motive of his life. And a deep-throated curse rose to his lips. But it found no utterance. It could not in that presence.
"An' my mind's made up," he jerked out at last, with concentrated force. Then he added with an abrupt softening, "Let's eat, Padre. I was forgettin'. Mebbe you're hungry some."