“Follow any orders you had given me before that time. If you had not given any, I would use my best judgment.”
“I’ll give them now,” smiled Bucky. “If I’m lagged, make straight for Arizona and tell Webb Mackenzie or Val Collins.”
“Then you will take me?” cried the boy eagerly.
“Only on condition that you obey orders explicitly. I’m running this cutting-out expedition.”
“I wouldn’t think of disobeying.”
“And I don’t want you to tell me any lies.”
“No.”
Bucky’s big brown fist caught the little one and squeezed it. “Then it’s a deal, kid. I only hope I’m doing right to take you.”
“Of course you are. Haven’t you promised to make a man of me?” And again Bucky caught that note of stifled laughter in the voice, though the big brown eyes met his quite seriously.
They took the train that night for El Paso, Bucky in the lower berth and his friend in the upper of section six of one of the Limited’s Pullman cars. The ranger was awake and up with the day. For a couple of hours he sat in the smoking section and discussed politics with a Chicago drummer. He knew that Frank was very tired, and he let him sleep till the diner was taken on at Lordsburg. Then he excused himself to the traveling man.