“Buck is one of the gang, that’s certain.”

“Get Silent an’ there won’t be no gang left.”

“But we caught this chap in red blood—­”

“He ain’t very old, Tex.  Maybe he could change.  I think he ain’t been playin’ Silent’s game any too long.”

“We can’t let him go.  It isn’t in reason to do that.”

“I ain’t thinkin’ of reason.  I’m thinkin’ of old Sam an’ his wife.”

“And if we turn him loose?”

“He’ll be your man till he dies.”

Calder scowled.

“The whole range is filled with these silent partners of the outlaws—­but maybe you’re right, Dan.  Look at them now!”

The father was standing close to his son and pouring out a torrent of appeal—­evidently begging him in a low voice to disavow any knowledge of Silent and his crew, but Buck shook his head sullenly.  He had given up hope.  Calder approached them.

“Buck,” he said, “I suppose you know that you could be hung for what you’ve tried to do tonight.  If the law wouldn’t hang you a lynching party would.  No jail would be strong enough to keep them away from you.”

Buck was silent, dogged.

“But suppose we were to let you go scot free?”

Buck started.  A great flush covered his face.

“I’m taking the advice of Dan Barry in doing this,” said Calder.  “Barry thinks you could go straight.  Tell me man to man, if I give you the chance will you break loose from Silent and his gang?”

A moment before, Buck had been steeled for the worst, but this sudden change loosened all the bonds of his pride.  He stammered and choked.  Calder turned abruptly away.

“Dan,” he said, “here’s the dawn, and it’s time for us to hit the trail.”

They rolled their blankets hastily and broke away from the gratitude which poured like water from the heart of old Sam.  They were in their saddles when Buck came beside Dan.  His pride, his shame, and his gratitude broke his voice.

“I ain’t much on words,” he said, “but it’s you I’m thankin’!”

His hand reached up hesitatingly, and Dan caught it in a firm grip.

“Why,” he said gently, “even Satan here stumbles now an’ then, but that ain’t no reason I should get rid of him.  Good luck—­partner!”

He shook the reins and the stallion leaped off after Calder’s trotting pony.  Buck Daniels stood motionless looking after them, and his eyes were very dim.

For an hour Dan and Tex were on the road before the sun looked over the hills.  Calder halted his horse to watch.

“Dan,” he said at last, “I used to think there were only two ways of handling men—­one with the velvet touch and one with the touch of steel.  Mine has been the way of steel, but I begin to see there’s a third possibility—­the touch of the panther’s paw—­the velvet with the steel claws hid beneath.  That’s your way, and I wonder if it isn’t the best.  I think Buck Daniels would be glad to die for you!”