The Golden Woman

The elder man turned back sharply and looked into the dark eyes with a shrewd smile.

"You generally get what I'm thinking," he said.

"Guess you're not much of a riddle--to me," Buck laughed, drawing the moist dust into a heap preparatory to picking it up.

The Padre laughed too.

"Maybe you know how I'm feeling about things, then? Y' see there's nothing for you now but half the farm money. That's yours anyway. It isn't a pile. Seems to me you ought to be--out there making a big position for yourself." He nodded in the direction of Devil's Hill.

"Out of gold?"

"Why not? It's an opportunity."

"What for?" Buck inquired, without a semblance of enthusiasm.

"Why, for going ahead--with other folks."

Buck nodded.

"I know. Goin' to a city with a big pile. A big house. Elegant clothes. Hired servants. Congress. Goin' around with a splash of big type in the noospapers."

"That's not quite all, Buck." The man at the door shook his head. "A man when he rises doesn't need to go in for--well, for vulgar display. There are a heap of other things besides. What about the intellectual side of civilization? What about the advancement of good causes? What about--well, all those things we reckon worth while out here? Then, too, you'll be marrying some day."

Buck picked up the dust and carefully emptied it into the blazing stove. He watched it burn for a moment, and then replaced the round iron top.

"Marryin' needs--all those things?" he inquired at last.

"Well, I wouldn't say that," returned the other quickly. He knew something was lying behind Buck's quiet manner, and it made him a little uncomfortable. "Most men find a means of marrying when they want to--if they're men. Look here," he went on, with a sudden outburst of simple candor, "I want to be fair to you, and I want you to be fair to yourself. There's an opportunity over there"--he pointed with his pipe in the direction of Devil's Hill--"an opportunity to make a pile, which will help you to take a position in the world. I don't want you to stay with me from any mistaken sense of gratitude or duty. It is my lot, and my desire, to remain in these hills. But you--you've got your life before you. You can rise to the top if you want to. I know you. I know your capacity. Take your share of the farm money, and--get busy."

"An' if I don't want to--get busy?" Buck's dark eyes were alight with a curious, intense warmth.

The Padre shrugged and pushed his pipe into the corner of his mouth.