“Indeed!” Bucky swept his fat bulk scornfully from head to foot. “If I were what you think me, do you suppose I would betray my friends?”
“You have no option, sir. Answer my questions, or die like a dog.”
“You mean that you would not think you had any option if you were in my place, but since I’m a clean white man there’s an option. By God! sir, it doesn’t take me a whole lot of time to make it, either. I’ll see you rot in hell before I’ll play Judas.”
The words rang like a bell through the room, not loud, but clear and vibrant. There was a long instant’s silence after the American finished speaking, and as his eyes swept from one to another of the enemy Bucky met with a surprise. On Colonel Onate’s face was a haggard look of fear—surely it was fear—that lifted in relief at the young man’s brave challenge. He had been dreading something, and the dread was lifted. Onate! Onate! The ranger’s memory searched the past few days to locate the name. Had O’Halloran mentioned it? Was this man one of the officers expected to join the opposition when it declared itself against Megales? He had a vague recollection of the name, and he could have heard it only through his friend.
“Was Juan Valdez a member of the party that took the rifles from Lieutenant Chaves and his escort?”
Bucky laughed out his contempt.
“Speak, sir,” broke in Chaves. “Answer the governor, you dog.”
“If I speak, it will be to tell you what a cur I think you.”
Chaves flushed angrily and laid a hand on his revolver. “Who are you that play dice with death, like a fool?”
“My name, seh, is Bucky O’Connor.”