Bucky O'Connor: A Tale of the Unfenced Border

ted itself in her indolent, incurious eyes. Indeed, his abundant and picturesque area was so vivid that it would ha

an in Section 3 had glimpsed a bevy of angry train officials eddying around a sturdy figure in the center, whose strong, lean head rose confidently above the press. There was the momentary whirl of a scuffle, out of the tangle of which shot a brakeman as if propel

ins, and you'll have to get off; that's all there

good nature, making himself at home in Section 4. "Tell

ve to get

right-at

get off here. I have no a

n't you think you'd arrive earlier at the end

ve to get

orduroys, and the big, gray hat, putting his feet leisurely on the cushion i

oesn't stop for anybody-not even

he honor you did me in stopping to take me on.

he train. Can't you understand

in the haid," soothed the intruder, and listened wi

in a hurry to get to Tucson. Here comes your train a-foggin'-also and likewise hittin' the high spots for Tucson. Seemed like we ought to

gan to explain anew as to a dull child. "It'

he calaboose

no j

you," Mr. Collins conceded. "Don'

e and untroubled as an Arizona sky. Out of a holster attached to the sagging belt that circled the corduroy trousers above his hips gleamed the butt of a revolver. But in the last analysis the weapon of the occasion was purely a moral one. The s

ick haid's always roping trouble for me," the plainsman

y porter has one. If it weren't iron-plated and copper-rivet

Took the kink out of his hair, you say? Here, Sam!" He tossed a bill to the porter, who was rollin

im by the porter was a recei

hey impinged themselves upon his admiration. The long, lithe lines of the slim, supple body, the languid grace missing hauteur only because that seemed scarce worth while, the unconscious pride of self that fails to be offensive onl

ertainly responsiveness to the geniality of casual fellow passengers did not impress Mr. Collins as likely to be an outstanding, quality in her. But with the drummer from Chicago, the young mining engineer going to Sonora, the two shy little English children just in front

ts that an urbane clergyman, now of Boston but formerly of Pekin, Illinois, professedly much interested in the sheriff's

ic friend be?" he asked, w

of them turned her head e

years ago when he was riding mail between Aravaipa and Mesa. He was a boy then, certainly not over eighteen, but in a desperate fight he had kille

smack of pulpit oratory was not often missing in the ed

d down from the tree branches above and freed the spring, catching his hand between its jaws. With his feet and his other hand he tried to open that trap for four hours, without the sligh

that

glove over his left hand. The reason,

ter paused to lengthen his

an. He hacked his hand off at th

ero!" cried the cle

es out here. He's game, if that's what you mean. And able, too.

is Bucky

wn Fernendez. Think I'll have

This may have been the reason he did not catch the quick look that passed without the slightest flicker of the eyelids between Major Mackenzie

t lie back of that swift glance. Major Mackenzie and this dark-eyed beauty posed before others a

her glance fell on his gloved hand. She had a swift, shuddering vision of a grim-faced man, jaws set like a vise, hacking at his wr

t. Dusk was beginning to fall, and the porter presently lit the lamps. Collins bought a magazine from the newsboy

ust out of the window. Presently the head reappeared, simultaneousl

ize the unspeakable convenience of rapid transit,

is daredevil eyes. He leaned forward and whispered a word to the little gir

diverting experience for a tenderfoot,"

hat it is a train hold-up." He waved his hand toward the door, and at the word, as if waitin