The Greatest Adventure Books - MacLeod Raine Edition. William MacLeod Raine

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СКАЧАТЬ as bad a bully as he is,” the boy burst out, flushing angrily.

      “Oh, no, I'm not,” came the ranger's prompt unmoved answer. “But just because you're such a weak little kid that I could break you in two isn't any reason why I should put up with any foolishness from you. I mean to see that you act proper, the way an honest kid ought to do. Savvy?”

      “I'd like to know who made you my master?” demanded the boy hotly.

      “You've ce'tainly been good and spoiled, but you needn't ride your high hawss with me. Here's the long and the short of it. To tell lies ain't square. If I ask you anything you don't want to answer tell me to go to hell, but don't lie to me. If you do I'll punish you the same as if you were my brother, so long as you trail with me. If you don't like it, cut loose and hit the pike for yourself.”

      “I've a good mind to go.”

      Bucky waved a hand easily into space. “That's all right, too, son. There's a heap of directions you can hit from here. Take any one you like. But if I was as beat as you are, I think I'd keep on the Epitaph road.” He laughed his warm, friendly laugh, before the geniality of which discord seemed to melt, and again his arm went round the other's weary shoulders with a caressing gesture that was infinitely protecting.

      The boy laughed tremulously. “You're awfully good to me. I know I'm a cry-baby, sissy boy, but if you'll be patient with me I'll try to be gamer.”

      It certainly was strange the way Bucky's pulse quickened and his blood tingled when he touched the little fellow and heard that velvet voice's soft murmur. Yes, it surely was strange, but perhaps the young Irishman's explanation was not the correct one, after all. The cause he offered to himself for this odd joy and tender excitement was perfectly simple.

      “I'm surely plumb locoed, or else gone soft in the haid,” he told himself grimly.

      But the reason for those queer little electric shocks that pulsed through him was probably a more elemental and primeval one than even madness.

      Arrived at Epitaph, Bucky turned loose his prisoner with a caution and made his preparations to leave immediately for Chihuahua. Collins had returned to Tucson, but was in touch with the situation and ready to set out for any point where he was needed.

      Bucky, having packed, was confronted with a difficulty. He looked at it, and voiced his perplexity.

      “Now, what am I going to do with you, Curly Haid? I expect I had better ship you back to the Rocking Chair.”

      “I don't want to go back there. He'll come out again and find me after you leave.”

      “Where do you want to go, then? If you were a girl I could put you in the convent school here,” he reflected aloud.

      Again that swift, deep blush irradiated the youth's cheeks. “Why can't I go with you?” he asked shyly.

      The ranger laughed. “Mebbe you think I'm going on a picnic. Why, I'm starting out to knock the chip off Old Man Trouble's shoulder. Like as not some greaser will collect Mr. Bucky's scalp down in manyana land. No, sir, this doesn't threaten to be a Y. P. S. C. E. excursion.”

      “If it is so dangerous as that, you will need help. I'm awful good at making up, and I can speak Spanish like a native.”

      “Sho! You don't want to go running your neck into a noose. It's a jail-break I'm planning, son. There may be guns a-popping before we get back to God's country—if we ever do. Add to that, trouble and then some, for there's a revolution scheduled for old Chihuahua just now, as your uncle happens to know from reliable information.”

      “Two can always work better than one. Try me, Bucky,” pleaded the boy, the last word slipping out with a trailing upward inflection that was irresistible.

      “Sure you won't faint if we get in a tight pinch, Curly?” scoffed O'Connor, even though in his mind he was debating a surrender. For he was extraordinarily taken with the lad, and his judgment justified what the boy had said.

      “I shall not be afraid if you are with me.”

      “But I may not be with you. That's the trouble. Supposing I should be caught, what would you do?”

      “Follow any orders you had given me before that time. If you had not given any, I would use my best judgment.”

      “I'll give them now,” smiled Bucky. “If I'm lagged, make straight for Arizona and tell Webb Mackenzie or Val Collins.”

      “Then you will take me?” cried the boy eagerly.

      “Only on condition that you obey orders explicitly. I'm running this cutting-out expedition.”

      “I wouldn't think of disobeying.”

      “And I don't want you to tell me any lies.”

      “No.”

      Bucky's big brown fist caught the little one and squeezed it. “Then it's a deal, kid. I only hope I'm doing right to take you.”

      “Of course you are. Haven't you promised to make a man of me?” And again Bucky caught that note of stifled laughter in the voice, though the big brown eyes met his quite seriously.

      They took the train that night for El Paso, Bucky in the lower berth and his friend in the upper of section six of one of the Limited's Pullman cars. The ranger was awake and up with the day. For a couple of hours he sat in the smoking section and discussed politics with a Chicago drummer. He knew that Frank was very tired, and he let him sleep till the diner was taken on at Lordsburg. Then he excused himself to the traveling man.

      “I reckon I better go and wake up my pardner. I see the chuck-wagon is toddling along behind us.”

      Bucky drew aside the curtains and shook the boy gently by the shoulder. Frank's eyes opened and looked at the ranger with that lack of comprehension peculiar to one roused suddenly from deep sleep.

      “Time to get up, Curly. The nigger just gave the first call for the chuck-wagon.”

      An understanding of the situation flamed over the boy's face. He snatched the curtains from the Arizonian and gathered them tightly together. “I'll thank you not to be so familiar,” he said shortly from behind the closed curtains.

      “I beg your pahdon, your royal highness. I should have had myself announced and craved an audience, I reckon,” was Bucky's ironic retort; and swiftly on the heels of it he added. “You make me tired, kid.”

      O'Connor was destined to be “made tired” a good many times in the course of the next few days. In all the little personal intimacies Frank possessed a delicate fastidiousness outside the experience of the ranger. He was a scrupulously clean man himself, and rather nice as to his personal habits, but it did not throw him into a flame of embarrassment to brush his teeth before his fellow passengers. Nor did it send him into a fit if a friend happened to drop into his room while he was finishing his dressing. Bucky agreed with himself that this excess of shyness was foolishness, and that to indulge the boy was merely to lay up future trouble for him. A dozen times he was on the point of speaking his mind on the subject, but some unusual quality of innocence in the lad tied his tongue.

      “Blame it all, I'm getting to be a regular old granny. What Master Frank needs is a СКАЧАТЬ