"Yes, Bucky. I expect you'll hate me now. What is it you called
me--a miscreant? Well, that's what I am."
His arms slipped round her as she began to sob, and he gentled
her till she could again speak. "Tell me all about it, little
Curly." he said.
"I didn't go into it because I wanted to. My master made me. I
don't know much about the others, except that I heard the names
they called each other."
"Would you know them again if you saw them? But of course you
would."
"Yes. But that's it, Bucky. I hated them all, and I was in mortal
fear all the time. Still--I can't betray them. They thought I
went in freely with them--all but Hardman. It wouldn't be right
for me to tell what I know. I've got to make you see that, dear."
"You'll not need to argue that with me, honey. I see it. You must
keep quiet. Don't tell anybody else what you've told me."
"And will they put me in the penitentiary when the rest go
there?"
"Not while Bucky O'Connor is alive and kicking," he told her
confidently.
But the form in which he had expressed his feeling was
unfortunate. It brought them back to the menace of their
situation.
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