"Guess it makes him feel good dopin' out stuff to us same as if we was bums," he said harshly.
"Shut up!" cried a voice from a remote corner. Buck looked over and saw a lean, dark man hugging his knees and smoking a well-burnt briar pipe. The same voice went on: "Guess you'd sicken most anybody, Beasley. You got a mean mind. Guess the Padre's a hell of a bully feller."
"He sure is," said Montana Ike, lolling over on to his side and pushing his canvas kit-bag into a more comfortable position. "You was sayin' there was vittles comin' along, Buck? Guess ther' ain't no 'chawin'' now?"
"Tobacco, sure," responded Buck with a smile.
One by one the men sat up on their frowsy blankets. The thought of provisions seemed to have roused them from their lethargy. Buck's eyes wandered over the faces peering at him out of the murky shadows. The squalor of the hut was painful, and, with the knowledge that help was at hand, the sight struck him even more forcibly.
"Quit work?" he asked a moment later, in his abrupt fashion.
Somebody laughed.
Buck looked round for an answer. And again his eyes caught the steely, ironical gleam in the man Beasley's.
"The last o' Slaney's kids 'passed in' last night. Guess we're goin' to bury her."
Buck nodded. He had no words. But he carefully avoided looking in the direction of Slaney Dick, who sat in a far corner smoking his pipe and hugging his great knees.
Beasley went on in the same half-mocking tone-"Guess it's up to me to read the service over her."
"You!"
Buck could not help the ejaculation. Beasley Melford was an unfrocked Churchman. Nor was it known the reason of his dismissal from his calling. All Buck knew was that Beasley was a man of particularly low morals and detestable nature. The thought that he was to administer the last rites of the Church over the dead body of a pure and innocent infant set his every feeling in active protest. He turned to Slaney.
"The Padre buried the others?" he said questioningly.
It was Dick's partner, Abe Allinson, who took it upon himself to answer.
"Y' see the Padre's done a heap. Slaney's missis didn't guess we'd orter worrit him. That's how she said."
Buck suddenly swung round on Beasley.
"Fix it for to-morrow, an' the Padre'll be right along."
He looked the ex-Churchman squarely in the eye. He was not making a request. His words were an emphatic refusal to allow the other the office. It was Slaney who answered him.
"I'm glad," he said. Then, as an afterthought, "an' the missis'll be glad, too."