"
He turned to the boy sitting quietly in an inconspicuous corner.
"Mum's the word, Frank. You understand that, of course?"
The boy nodded. "I'll go into the next room, if you like."
"It isn't necessary. Fire ahead, Mike."
The latter got up, tiptoed to each door in turn, flung it
suddenly open to see that nobody was spying behind it, and then
turned the lock. "I have use for me head for another year or two,
and it's just as well to see that nobody is spying. You
understand, Bucky, that I'm risking me life in telling you what
I'm going to. If you have any doubts about this lad--" He
stopped, keen eyes fixed on Frank.
"He's as safe as I am, Mike. Is it likely I would take any risks
about a thing of that sort with my old bunkie's tough neck
inviting the hangman?" asked O'Connor quietly.
"Good enough. The kid looks stanch, and, anyhow, if you guarantee
him that's enough for me." He accepted another of the ranger's
cigars, puffed it to a red glow, and leaned back to smile at his
friend. "Glory, but it's good to see ye, Bucky, me bye. You'll
never know how a man's eyes ache to see a straight-up white man
in this land of greasers.
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