"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.
"I reckon I better go and wake up my pardner. I see the
chuck-wagon is toddling along behind us."
Bucky drew aside the curtains and shook the boy gently by the
shoulder. Frank's eyes opened and looked at the ranger with that
lack of comprehension peculiar to one roused suddenly from deep
sleep.
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