The Best Western Novels of William MacLeod Raine. William MacLeod Raine
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honor of a personally conducted inspection. Gabilonda was a fat little man, with a soft, purring voice and a pompous manner. He gushed with the courteous volubility of his nation, explaining with great gusto this and that detail of the work. Bucky gave him outwardly a deferent ear, but his alert mind and eyes were scanning the prisoners they saw. The ranger was trying to find in one of these scowling, defiant faces some resemblance to the picture his mind had made of Henderson.
But Bucky looked in vain. If the man he wanted was among these he had changed beyond recognition. In the end he was forced to ask Gabilonda plainly if he would not take him to see David Henderson, as he knew a man in Arizona who was an old friend of his, and he would like to be able to tell him that he had seen his friend.
Henderson was breaking stone when O'Connor got his first glimpse of him. He continued to swing his hammer listlessly, without looking up, when the door opened to let in the warden and his guests. But something in the ranger's steady gaze drew his eyes. They were dull eyes, and sullen, but when he saw that Bucky was an American, the fire of intelligence flashed into them.
“May I speak to him?” asked O'Connor.
“It is against the rules, senor, but if you will be brief—” The colonel shrugged, and turned his back to them, in order not to see. It must be said for Gabilonda that his capacity for blinking what he did not think it judicious to see was enormous.
“You are David Henderson, are you not?” The ranger asked, in a low voice.
Surprise filtered into the dull eyes. “That was my name,” the man answered bitterly. “I have a number now.”
“I come from Webb Mackenzie to get you out of this,” the ranger said.
The man's eyes were no longer dull now, but flaming with hatred. “Curse him, I'll take nothing from his hands. For fifteen years he has let me rot in hell without lifting a hand for me.”
“He thought you dead. It can all be explained. It was only last week that the mystery of your disappearance was solved.”
“Then why didn't he come himself? It was to save his little girl I got myself into this place. If I had been in his shoes I would have come if I'd had to crawl on my hands and knees.”
“He doesn't know yet you are here. I wrote him simply that I knew where you were, and then I came at once.” Bucky glanced round warily at the fat colonel gazing placidly out of the barred window. “I mean to rescue you, and I knew if he were here his impulsiveness would ruin everything.”
“Do you mean it? For God's sake! don't lie to me. If there's no hope for me, don't say there is.” The prisoner's voice shook and his hands trembled. He was only the husk of the man he had been, but it did Bucky's heart good to see that the germ of life was still in him. Back in Arizona, on the Rocking Chair Ranch, with the free winds of the plains beating on his face, he would pick up again the old strands of his broken life, would again learn to love the lowing of cattle and the early morning call of the hooter to his mate.
“I mean it. As sure as I stand here I'll get you out, or, if I don't, Webb Mackenzie will. We're calling the matter to the attention of the United States Government, but we are not going to wait till that time to free you. Keep up your courage, man. It is only for a little time now.”
Tears leaped to the prisoner's eyes. He had been a game man in the dead years that were past, none gamer in Texas, and he could still face his jailers with an impassive face; but this first kindly word from his native land in fifteen years to the man buried alive touched the fount of his emotions. He turned away and leaned against the grating of his cell, his head resting on his forearm. “My God! man, you don't know what it means to me. Sometimes I think I shall go mad and rave. After all these years But I know you'll fail—It's too good to be true,” he finished quietly.
“I'll not fail, though I may be delayed. But I can't say more. Gabilonda is coming back. Next time I see you it will be to take you out to freedom. Think of that always, and believe it.”
Gabilonda bowed urbanely. “If the senor has seen all he cares to of this department we will return to the office,” he suggested suavely.
“Certainly, colonel. I can't appreciate too much your kindness in allowing me to study your system so carefully.”
“Any friend of my friend the Senor O'Halloran is cherished deeply in my heart,” came back the smiling colonel, with a wave of his plump, soft hand.
“I am honored, sir, to receive such consideration at the hands of so distinguished a soldier as Colonel Gabilonda,” bowed Bucky gravely, in his turn, with the most flowery Spanish he could muster.
There was another half-hour of the mutual exchange of compliments before O'Connor could get away. Alphonse and Gaston were fairly outdone, for the Arizonian, with a smile hidden deep behind the solemnity of his blue eyes, gave as good as he got. When he was at last fairly in the safety of his own rooms he gave way to limp laughter while describing to his little friend that most ceremonious parting.
“He pressed me to his manly bay window, Curly, and allowed he was plumb tickled to death to have met me. Says I, coming back equal strong, 'twas the most glorious day of my life.”
“Oh, I know YOU,” answered young Hardman, with a smile.
“A friend of his friend O'Halloran—”
“Mr. O'Halloran was here while you were away. He seemed very anxious to see you; said he would call again in an hour. I think it must be important.”
Came at that instant O'Halloran's ungentle knock, on the heels of which his red head came through the open door.
“You're the very lad I'm wanting to see, Bucky,” he announced, and followed this declaration by locking all the doors and beckoning him to the center of the room.
“Is that tough neck of yours aching again, Reddy?” inquired his friend whimsically.
“It is that, me bye. There's the very divil to pay,” he whispered.
“Cough it out, Mike.”
“That tyrant Megales is onto our game. Somebody's leaked, or else he has a spy in our councils—as we have in his, the ould scoundrel.”
“I see. Your spy has told you that his spy has reported to him—”
“That the guns are to be brought in to-night. He has sent out a guard to bring them in safely to him. If he gets them, our game is up, me son, and you can bet your last nickle on that.”
“If he gets them! Is there a chance for us?”
“Glory be! there is. You see, he doesn't know that we know what he has done. For that reason he sent out only a guard of forty men. If he sent more we would suspect what he was doing, ye see. That is the way the old fox reasoned. But forty—they were able to slip out of the city on last night's train in civilian's clothes and their arms in a couple of coffins.”
“Why didn't he send a couple of hundred men openly, and at the same time arrest you all?”
“That doesn't suit his book at all. For one thing, he probably doesn't know all of us, and he doesn't want to bag half of us and throw the rest into immediate rebellion. It's his play not to force the issue until after the election, Bucky. He controls all the election machinery and will have himself declared reelected, the old scamp, notwithstanding that he's the most unpopular man in the State. To precipitate trouble now would be just foolishness, he argues. So he'll just capture our arms, and after the election give me and my friends quiet hell. Nothing public, you know—just unfortunate assassinations that he will regret exceedingly, me bye. But I have never yit been assassinated, and, on principle, I object to being trated so. It's very destructive to a man's future usefulness.”
“And so?” laughed the ranger.
“And so we've arranged to take a few lads up the line and have a train hold-up. I'm the robber-in-chief. Would ye like to be second in command of the lawless ruffians, me son?”
Bucky met his