“So your Shakespeare has it, does he not?” she asked, reverting again to the Spanish language, in which they had been talking. But swift on the heels of her raillery came repentance. She caught the dispirited girl to her embrace laughingly. “No, no, child! Nonsense ripples from my tongue. These follies are but for a carpet lover. You shall tell me more of your Señor Bucky and I shall make no sport of it.” When Bucky returned at the expiration of the time he had set himself, he found them with their arms twined about each other’s waists, whispering the confidences that every girl on the threshold of womanhood has to tell her dearest friend. “I reckon you like my pardner better than you do me,” smiled Bucky to Miss Carmencita. “A great deal better, sir, but then I know him better.” Bucky’s eyes rested for a moment almost tenderly on Frances. “I reckon he is better worth knowing,” he said. “Indeed! And you so brave, and patient, and good?” she mocked. “Oh! Am I all that?” asked Bucky easily. “So I have been given to understand.” Out of the corner of his eye O’Connor caught the embarrassed, reproachful look that Frances gave her audacious friend, and he found it easy to fit quotation marks round the admirable qualities that had just been ascribed to him. He guessed himself blushing _à deux_ with his little friend, and also divined Miss Carmencita’s roguish merriment at their confusion. “I _am_ all those things you mentioned and a heap more you forgot to say,” claimed the ranger boldly, to relieve the situation. “Only I didn’t know for sure that folks had found it out. My mind’s a heap easier to know I’m being appreciated proper at last.” Under her long, dark lashes Miss Carmencita looked at him in gentle derision. “I’m of opinion, sir, that you get all the appreciation that is good for you.” Bucky carried the war into the enemy’s country. “Which same, I expect, might be said of Chihuahua’s most beautiful belle. And, talking of Señor Valdez reminds me that I owe a duty to his father, who is confined here. I’ll be saying good night ladies.” “It’s high time,” agreed Miss Megales. “Talking of Señor Valdez, indeed!” “Good night, Curly said.” “Good night, Bucky.” To which, in mocking travesty, added, in English, Miss Carmencita, who seemed to have an acute attack of Shakespeare: “Good night, good night; parting is such sweet sorrow That I shall say good night till It be morrow.” CHAPTER XVI. JUAN VALDEZ SCORES The first thing Bucky did after leaving the two young women was to go down in person with one of the guards to the cell of David Henderson. The occupant of the cell was asleep, but he woke up when the two men entered. “Who is it?” he demanded. “Webb Mackenzie’s man come to release you,” answered Bucky. The prisoner fell to trembling like an aspen. “God, man, do you mean it?” he begged. “You wouldn’t deceive an old man who has lived fifteen years in hell?”