“No reasonable man could ask fairer than that,” agreed O’Halloran, his grin expanding. “Well, then, what’s the row? Would ye like to be dictator of Chihuahua or Emperor of Mexico?”
“There’s an American in the government prison here under a life sentence. He is not guilty, and he has already served fifteen years.”
“He is like to serve fifteen more, if he lives that long.”
“Wrong guess. I mean to get him out.”
“And I’m meaning to go to Paradise some day, but will I?”
“You’re going to help me get him out, Mike.”
“Who told ye that, me optimistic young friend?”
“I didn’t need to be told.”
“Well, I’ll not lift a finger, Bucky—not a finger.”
“I knew you wouldn’t stand to see a man like Henderson rot in a dungeon. No Irishman would.”