“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.”