I'm an American citizen, and I
reckon that will carry us through all right. Uncle Sam has awful
long arms, and these greasers know it. I'm expecting to come back
here again, little pardner. But if I don't make it, I want you,
just as soon as they turn you loose, to go straight to your
father's ranch."
"Come! This won't do. Look alive, senor," the turnkey ordered,
and to emphasize his words reached a hand forward to pluck away
the sobbing lad. Bucky caught his wrist and tightened on it like
a vise. "Hands off, here!" he commanded quietly.
The man gave a howl of pain and nursed his hand gingerly after it
was released.
"Oh, Bucky, make him let me go, too," the girl wailed, clinging
to his coat.
Gently he unfastened her fingers. "You know I would if I could,
Curly; but it isn't my say-so."
And with that he was gone. Ashen-faced she watched him go, and as
soon as the door had closed groped her way to the bench and sank
down on it, her face covered with her hands. He was going to his
death. Her lover was going to his death. Why had she let him go?
Why had she not done something--thought of some way to save him?
The ranger's guards led him to the military headquarters in the
next street from the prison.
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