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Suddenly he shot out his hand, saying with a nod: "You're a white man, Bub, and I never heard a word against that." He filled a glass and shoved it toward Frawley. "We might as well clink on it. For I rather opinionate before we get through this little business there'll be something worth talking about." "Here's to you then, Bucky," said Frawley, nodding.
It's a principle we've got at stake with you!" "Don't I know it?" cried Greenfield, striking the table. "What else do you think I did it for?" Frawley gazed at him, then said slowly: "I told them it was a personal matter." "Sure it was! Do you think I could keep out after you served notice on me? D your English pride and your English justice!
At three o'clock in the afternoon a horseman grew out of the horizon, a figure that remained stationary and attentive, studying his approach through a spy-glass. Suddenly, as though satisfied, the stranger took off his hat and waved it above his head in challenge, and digging his heels into his horse, disappeared into the desert. Frawley understood the challenge the end was to be in the desert.
"What's the matter, pal?" said Frawley, pausing in surprise. "You darned old Englishman," said Greenfield affectionately. "Say, Bub." "Yes, Bucky." "The dinkies are all right but but a Yank, a real Yank, would 'a' got me in six months." "All right, Bucky. Shall I raise you up?" "H'ist away." "Would you like the feeling of a gun in your hand again?" said Frawley, raising him up.
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