“Do you mean it? For God’s sake! don’t lie to me. If there’s no hope for me, don’t say there is.” The prisoner’s voice shook and his hands trembled. He was only the husk of the man he had been, but it did Bucky’s heart good to see that the germ of life was still in him. Back in Arizona, on the Rocking Chair Ranch, with the free winds of the plains beating on his face, he would pick up again the old strands of his broken life, would again learn to love the lowing of cattle and the early morning call of the hooter to his mate.
“I mean it. As sure as I stand here I’ll get you out, or, if I don’t, Webb Mackenzie will. We’re calling the matter to the attention of the United States Government, but we are not going to wait till that time to free you. Keep up your courage, man. It is only for a little time now.”
Tears leaped to the prisoner’s eyes. He had been a game man in the dead years that were past, none gamer in Texas, and he could still face his jailers with an impassive face; but this first kindly word from his native land in fifteen years to the man buried alive touched the fount of his emotions. He turned away and leaned against the grating of his cell, his head resting on his forearm. “My God! man, you don’t know what it means to me. Sometimes I think I shall go mad and rave. After all these years. But I know you’ll fail—It’s too good to be true,” he finished quietly.
“I’ll not fail, though I may be delayed. But I can’t say more. Gabilonda is coming back. Next time I see you it will be to take you out to freedom. Think of that always, and believe it.”
Gabilonda bowed urbanely. “If the señor has seen all he cares to of this department we will return to the office,” he suggested suavely.
“Certainly, colonel. I can’t appreciate too much your kindness in allowing me to study your system so carefully.”
“Any friend of my friend the Señor O’Halloran is cherished deeply in my heart,” came back the smiling colonel, with a wave of his plump, soft hand.
“I am honored, sir, to receive such consideration at the hands of so distinguished a soldier as Colonel Gabilonda,” bowed Bucky gravely, in his turn, with the most flowery Spanish he could muster.
There was another half-hour of the mutual exchange of compliments before O’Connor could get away. Alphonse and Gaston were fairly outdone, for the Arizonian, with a smile hidden deep behind the solemnity of his blue eyes, gave as good as he got. When he was at last fairly in the safety of his own rooms he gave way to limp laughter while describing to his little friend that most ceremonious parting.
“He pressed me to his manly bay window, Curly, and allowed he was plumb tickled to death to have met me. Says I, coming back equal strong, ’twas the most glorious day of my life.”