“Would you care if one of their pills happened along in the scrimmage and put me out of business? Honest, would you?” “You haven’t any right to talk that way. It’s cruel,” was the reply that burst from the pretty lips, and he noticed that at his suggestion the roses had died from soft cheeks. “Well, I won’t talk that way any more, little partner,” he answered gaily, taking the small hand in his. “For reasons good. I’m fire-proof. The Mexican bullet hasn’t been cast yet that can find Bucky O’Connor’s heart.” “But you mustn’t think that, either, and be reckless,” was the next injunction. The shy laugh rang like music. “That’s why I want to go along, to see that you behave yourself properly.” “Oh, I’ll behave,” he laughed; for the young man found it very easy to be happy when those sweet eyes were showing concern for him. “I’ve got several good reasons why I don’t aim to get bumped off just yet. Heaps of first-rate reasons. I’ll tell you what some of them are one of these days,” he dared to add. “You had better tell me now.” The gaze that fell before his steady eyes was both shy and eager. “No, I reckon I’ll wait, Curly,” he answered, turning away with a long breath. “Well, we better go out and get some grub, tortillas and frijoles, don’t you think?” “Just as you like.” The lad’s breath was coming a little fast. They had been on the edge of some moment of intimacy that Bucky’s partner both longed for and dreaded. “But you have not told me yet whether I can go with you.” “You can’t. I’m sorry. I’d like first-rate to take you, if you want to go, but I can’t do it. I hate to disappoint you if you’re set on it, but I’ve got to, kid. Anything else you want I’ll be glad to do.” He added this last because Frank looked so broken-hearted about it. “Very well.” Swift as a flash came the demand: “Tell me these heaps of first-rate reasons you were mentioning just now.” Under the sun-tan he flushed. “I reckon I’ll have to make another exception, Curly. Those reasons ain’t ripe yet for telling.” “Then if you are—if anything happens—I’ll never know them. And you promised you would tell me—you, who pretend to hate a liar so,” she scoffed. “Would it do if I wrote those reasons and left them in a sealed envelope? Then in case anything happened you could open it and satisfy that robust curiosity of yours.” He recognized that he had trapped himself, and he was making the best bargain left him. “You may write them, if you like. But I’m going to open the letter, anyway. The reasons belong to me now. You promised.” “I’ll make a new deal with you, then,” he smiled. “I’ll take awful good care of myself to-night if you’ll promise not to open the envelope for two weeks unless—well, unless that something happens that we ain’t expecting.” “Call it a week, and it’s a bargain.” “Better say when we’re back across the line again. That may be inside of three days, if everything goes well,” he threw in as a bait.