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Updated: May 3, 2025
Before the bad man had his revolver out, he found himself looking down the barrel of the ranger's leveled rifle. "I wouldn't," Bucky murmured genially. "What you want me for?" Blackwell demanded sulkily. "For the W. & S. robbery." "I'm not the man you want. My name's Johnson." "I'll put up with you till I find the man I do want, Mr. Johnson," Bucky told him cheerfully. "Climb down from that horse.
If Bucky had had any idea of attempting escape, he now abandoned it at once. The place of all places where he most ardently desired to be at that moment was in the prison with his little comrade. His desire marched with that of Chaves so far, and the latter could not hurry him there too fast to suit him.
The latter looked at him out of an expressionless face. Even though his confederate had proved traitor he would not betray him. "I wonder," he said. Bucky laughed. "Made a mistake that time, Val." "I plumb forgot the situation for a moment," the sheriff grinned. "Anyhow, we better be hittin' his trail." "How about Phil?" Neil suggested. "That's right.
One was Major Alexander Brodie, from Arizona, afterward Lieutenant-Colonel, who had lived for twenty years in the Territory, and had become a thorough Westerner without sinking the West Pointer a soldier by taste as well as training, whose men worshipped him and would follow him anywhere, as they would Bucky O'Neill or any other of their favorites.
"You what!" he exclaimed, for once struck dumb with sheer amazement. "Yes, Bucky. I expect you'll hate me now. What is it you called me a miscreant? Well, that's what I am." His arms slipped round her as she began to sob, and he gentled her till she could again speak. "Tell me all about it, little Curly." he said. "I didn't go into it because I wanted to. My master made me.
That gives him the other hour or two he needs to make his getaway with the loot. Well, it can't be helped now. If I can only reach Bucky there's one chance in fifty he can head them off from crossing into Sonora. Soon as I can get together a posse I'll take up the trail from the point of the hold-up. But they'll have a whole night's start on me. That's a big handicap."
"I'll attend to that, Miss Cullison. I am in Fendrick's room now. Make your mind easy." Bucky hung up and turned to the sheepman. The latter showed him a face of derision. He had gathered one thing that disquieted him, but he did not intend to let O'Connor know it. "Well?" he jeered. "Find friend Cullison in tolerable health?" "I've been talking with his daughter." "I judged as much.
"I was down well clear of ye and waiting for ye." "Then how come ye under my bleedin' feet. Mind yer eye now, or the two of 'em'll be down on us. That mate is a bad un, I tell ye, Bucky bad as the nigger in the Southern Cross. No end of trouble with him, if ye remember as I do." "Aw, stow the gab," whispered Buckrow, "We're working now. Mind what yer about. I've got another gun from Thirkle."
"Might think I was the kid's father to see what an interest I take in him," the young man told himself reprovingly. "It's all tommyrot, too. A boy had ought to have more grit. I expect he needed that licking all right I saved him from." When Bucky had eaten, the camp things were repacked for travel.
Bucky had stepped lightly across the intervening space on the shoulders of the tightly packed crowd and had dropped as lightly to the ground in front of the astonished champion of the universe. "I reckon you've about wore out that target. What's the matter with trying a brand new one," drawled the ranger, his quiet, unwavering eye fixed on the bloated, mottled face of the imitation "bad man."
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