ng her
any?"

"Are you married to her?"

"You bet I ain't. You see, Mick, that handsome lady you're going to lick
the stuffing out of me about is only a plumb ornery sassy young boy,
after all."

"No!" denied Mick, his eyes two excited interrogation-points. "You can't
stuff me with any such fairy-tale, me lad."

"All right. Wait and see," suggested the ranger easily. "Have a smoke
while you're falling out of love."

"You young limb, I want you to tell me all about it this very minute,
before I punch holes in yez."

Bucky lit his cigar, leaned back, and began to tell the story of Frank
Hardman and the knife-thrower. Only one thing he omitted to tell, and
that was the conviction that had come home to him a few moments ago that
his little comrade was no boy, but a woman. O'Halloran was a chivalrous
Irishman, a daredevil of an adventurer, with a pure love of freedom that
might very likely in the end bring him to face a row of loaded carbines
with his back to a wall, but Bucky had his reticencies that even loyal
friendship could not break down. This girl's secret he meant to guard
until such time as she chose of her own free will to tell it.

Frank returned just as he finished the tale of the knife episode, and
Mick's frank open eyes accused him of idiocy for ever having supposed
that this lad was a woman. Why, he was a little fellow not over
fifteen--not a day past fifteen, he would swear to that. He was, to be
sure, a slender, girlish young fellow, a good deal of a sissy by the
look of him, but none the less a sure enough boy. Convinced of this,
the big Irishman dismissed him promptly from his thoughts and devoted
himself to Bucky.

"And what are yez doing down in greaser land? Thought you was rustling
cows for a living somewheres in sunburnt Arizona," he grinned amiably.

"Me? Oh, I came down on business. We'll talk about that presently. How's
your one-hawss revolution getting along, Reddy? I hope it's right peart
and healthy."

O'Halloran's eyes flashed a warning, with the slightest nod in the world
toward the boy.

"Don't worry about him. He's straight as a string and knows how to keep
his mouth shut. You can tell him anything you would me." He turned to
the boy sitting quietly in an inconspicuous corner. "Mum's the word,
Frank. You understand that, of course?"

The boy nodded. "I'll go into the next room, if you like."

"It isn't necessary. Fire ahead, Mike."

The latter got up, tiptoed to each door