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Raine, William MacLeod, 1871-1954

"Bucky O'Connor"


"'Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone
My dark Rosaleen! My own Rosaleen!
'Tis you shall have the golden throne,
'Tis you shall reign, and reign alone
My dark Rosaleen!"
O'Connor, somewhat out of breath, was humming the last line when
he passed through the gypsy apartments and opened his own door,
to meet one of the surprises of his life. Yet he finished the
verse, though he was looking down the barrels of two revolvers in
the hands of a pair of troopers, and though Lieutenant Chaves,
very much at his ease, sat on the table dangling his feet.
Bucky's sardonic laughter rang out gayly. "I ce'tainly didn't
expect to meet you here, lieutenant. May I ask if you have
wings?"
"Not exactly, senor. But it is quite possible you may have before
twenty-four hours," came the swift retort.
"Interesting, if true," remarked the ranger carelessly, tossing
his gloves on the bed. "And may I ask to what I am indebted for
the pleasure of a visit from you?"
"I am returning your call, sir, and at the very earliest
opportunity. I assure you that I have been in the city less than
ten minutes, Senor whatever-you-choose-to-call-yourself.


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