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

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love him, my dear.”

      “Oh, senorita!” The blushing face was buried on her new friend's shoulder. “You don't know how good he is.”

      “Then tell me,” smiled the other. “And call me Carmencita.”

      “He is so brave, and patient, and good. I know there was never a man like him.”

      Miss Carmencita thought of one and demurred silently. “I'm sure this paragon of lovers is at least part of what you say. Does he love you? But I am sure he couldn't help it.”

      “Sometimes I think he does, but once—” Frances broke off to ask, in a pink flame: “How does a lover act?”

      Miss Carmencita's laughter rippled up. “Gracious me, have you never had one before.”

      “Never.”

      “Well, he should make verses to you and pretty speeches. He should sing serenades about undying love under your window. Bonbons should bombard you, roses make your rooms a bower. He should be ardent as Romeo, devoted as a knight of old. These be the signs of a true love,” she laughed.

      Frances' face fell. If these were the tokens of true love, her ranger was none. For not one of the symptoms could fairly be said to fit him. Perhaps, after all, she had given him what he did not want.

      “Must he do all that? Must he make verses?” she asked blankly, not being able to associate Bucky with poetasting.

      “He must,” teased her tormentor, running a saucy eye over her boyish garb. “And why not with so fair a Rosalind for a subject?” She broke off to quote in her pretty, uncertain English, acquired at a convent in the United States, where she had attended school:

      “From the east to western Ind,

       No jewel is like Rosalind.

       Her worth being mounted on the wind,

       Through all the world bears Rosalind.

       All the pictures, fairest lin'd,

       Are but black to Rosalind.

       Let no face be kept in mind

       But the fair of Rosalind.”

      “So your Shakespeare has it, does he not?” she asked, reverting again to the Spanish language, in which they had been talking. But swift on the heels of her raillery came repentance. She caught the dispirited girl to her embrace laughingly. “No, no, child! Nonsense ripples from my tongue. These follies are but for a carpet lover. You shall tell me more of your Senor Bucky and I shall make no sport of it.”

      When Bucky returned at the expiration of the time he had set himself, he found them with their arms twined about each other's waists, whispering the confidences that every girl on the threshold of womanhood has to tell her dearest friend.

      “I reckon you like my pardner better than you do me,” smiled Bucky to Miss Carmencita.

      “A great deal better, sir, but then I know him better.”

      Bucky's eyes rested for a moment almost tenderly on Frances. “I reckon he is better worth knowing,” he said.

      “Indeed! And you so brave, and patient, and good?” she mocked.

      “Oh! Am I all that?” asked Bucky easily.

      “So I have been given to understand.”

      Out of the corner of his eye O'Connor caught the embarrassed, reproachful look that Frances gave her audacious friend, and he found it easy to fit quotation marks round the admirable qualities that had just been ascribed to him. He guessed himself blushing a deux with his little friend, and also divined Miss Carmencita's roguish merriment at their confusion.

      “I AM all those things you mentioned and a heap more you forgot to say,” claimed the ranger boldly, to relieve the situation. “Only I didn't know for sure that folks had found it out. My mind's a heap easier to know I'm being appreciated proper at last.”

      Under her long, dark lashes Miss Carmencita looked at him in gentle derision. “I'm of opinion, sir, that you get all the appreciation that is good for you.”

      Bucky carried the war into the enemy's country. “Which same, I expect, might be said of Chihuahua's most beautiful belle. And, talking of Senor Valdez reminds me that I owe a duty to his father, who is confined here. I'll be saying good night ladies.”

      “It's high time,” agreed Miss Megales. “Talking of Senor Valdez, indeed!”

      “Good night, Curly said.”

      “Good night, Bucky.”

      To which, in mocking travesty, added, in English, Miss Carmencita, who seemed to have an acute attack of Shakespeare:

      “Good night, good night; parting is such sweet sorrow

       That I shall say good night till It be morrow.”

      Chapter 16.

       Juan Valdez Scores

       Table of Contents

      The first thing Bucky did after leaving the two young women was to go down in person with one of the guards to the cell of David Henderson. The occupant of the cell was asleep, but he woke up when the two men entered.

      “Who is it?” he demanded.

      “Webb Mackenzie's man come to release you,” answered Bucky.

      The prisoner fell to trembling like an aspen. “God, man, do you mean it?” he begged. “You wouldn't deceive an old man who has lived fifteen years in hell?”

      “It's true, friend, every word of it. You'll live to ride the range again and count your cattle on the free hillside. Come with me up to the office and we'll talk more of it.”

      “But may I? Will they let me?” trembled Henderson, fearful lest his cup of joy be dashed from him. “I'm not dreaming, am I? I'll not wake the way I often do and find that it is all a dream, will I?” He caught at the lapel of O'Connor's coat and searched his face.

      “No, your dreams are true at last, Dave Henderson. Come, old friend, take a drink of this to steady you. It's all coming out right now.”

      Tears streamed down the face of the man rescued from a living grave. He dashed them away impatiently with a shaking hand. “I used to be as game as other men, young man, and now you see what a weakling I am. Don't judge me too hard. Happiness is a harder thing to stand than pain or grief. They've tried to break my spirit many a time and they couldn't, but you've done it now with a word.”

      “You'll be all right as soon as you are able to realize it. I don't wonder the shock unnerves you. Have you anything you want to take out of here with you before you leave forever?”

      Pathetically the prisoner looked round on his few belongings. Some of them had become endeared to him by years of use and association, but they had served their time. “No, I want to forget it all. I came in with nothing. I'll take out nothing. I want to blot it all out like a hideous nightmare.”

      Bucky ordered Colonel Gabilonda to bring up from his cell General Valdez and the other arrested suspects. They reached the office at the same time as Mike O'Halloran, who greeted them with the good news that the day was won. The Megales faction had melted into mist, and all over the city a happy people was shouting for Valdez.

      “I congratulate you, general. We have just telegraphed the news over the State that Megales has resigned and fled. There can be no doubt that you will be elected governor to-morrow and that the people's party will win the day with an unprecedented vote. Glory be, Chihuahua is at last free from the heel of tyranny. Viva Valdez! Viva Chihuahua libra!”

      Bucky at once introduced to General Valdez the American prisoner who had suffered so long and unjustly. He recited the story of the abduction of the child, of Henderson's

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