"And so what do I do? I think, and having thought I act with the
swiftness of a Chaves. How? I ride across country. I seize a hand
car. My men pump me to town on the roadbed of the Northern. I
telephone to the hotels and find where Americans are staying.
Then I come here like the wind, arrest your friend, and send him
to prison, arrest you also and send you to the gallows."
"That's real kind of you, general," replied Bucky, in irony
sportive. "But you really are putting yourself out too much for
me. I reckon I'll not trouble you to go so far. By the way, did I
understand you to say you had arrested a friend of mine?"
Indifferently he flung out the question, if his voice were index
of his feeling, but his heart was pumping faster than it normally
ought.
"He is in prison, where you will shortly join him. Soldiers, to
the commandant with your captive."
If Bucky had had any idea of attempting escape, he now abandoned
it at once. The place of all places where he most ardently
desired to be at that moment was in the prison with his little
comrade. His desire marched with that of Chaves so far, and the
latter could not hurry him there too fast to suit him.
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