Metaphorically, Blackwell licked the hand of his protector. He was still standing, but his attitude gave the effect of crouching.
“I aim to do what’s right, Captain O’Connor. Whatever’s right. You ask me any questions.”
“I want to know all about the W. & S. robbery, everything, from start to finish.”
“Honest, I wish I could tell you. But I don’t know a thing about it. Cross my heart, I don’t.”
“No use, Blackwell. If I’m going to stand by you against Mr. Cullison, you’ll have to tell the truth. Why, man, I’ve even got the mask you wore and the cloth you cut it from.”
“I reckon it must a-been some one else, Major. Wisht I could help you, but I can’t.”
Bucky rose. “All right. If you can’t help me, I can’t help you.” Apparently he dismissed the matter from his mind, for he looked at his watch and turned to the cattleman. “Mr. Cullison, I reckon I’ll run out and have some supper. Do you mind staying here with this man till I get back?”
“No. That’s all right, Bucky. Don’t hurry, I’ll keep him entertained.” Perhaps it was not by chance that his eye wandered to a blacksnake whip hanging on the wall.
O’Connor sauntered to the door. The frightened gaze of the prisoner clung to him as if for safety.
“Major—Colonel—you ain’t a-going,” he pleaded.