Oh, Bucky!" She crept close to him and put her arms around his
neck, holding him tight, as if in the hope that she could keep
him against the untoward fate that was reaching for him. "Oh,
Bucky, if I could only die for you!"
"Don't give up, little friend. I don't. Somehow I'll slip out,
and then you'll have to live for me and not die for me."
"What is it that the governor wants you to say that you won't?"
"Oh, he wants me to sell our friends. I told him to go climb a
giant cactus."
"Of course you couldn't do that," she sighed regretfully.
He laughed. "Well, hardly, and call myself a white man."
"But--" She blanched at the alternative. "Oh, Bucky, we must do
something. We must-- we must."
"It ain't so bad as it looks, honey. You want to remember that
Mike O'Halloran is on deck. What's the matter with him knocking
out a home run and bringing us both in. I put a heap of
confidence in that red-haided Irishman," he answered cheerfully.
"You say that just to--to give me courage. You don't really think
he can do anything," she said wanly.
"That's just what I think, Curly. Some men have a way of getting
things done.
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