joy at sight of him and to hear the
soft voice with the trailing inflection drawl out its shy questions. So
he took the stairs three at a time, with a song on his lips and in his
heart.

"'Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone
My dark Rosaleen! My own Rosaleen!
'Tis you shall have the golden throne,
'Tis you shall reign, and reign alone
My dark Rosaleen!"

O'Connor, somewhat out of breath, was humming the last line when he
passed through the gypsy apartments and opened his own door, to meet one
of the surprises of his life. Yet he finished the verse, though he was
looking down the barrels of two revolvers in the hands of a pair of
troopers, and though Lieutenant Chaves, very much at his ease, sat on
the table dangling his feet.

Bucky's sardonic laughter rang out gayly. "I ce'tainly didn't expect to
meet you here, lieutenant. May I ask if you have wings?"

"Not exactly, senor. But it is quite possible you may have before
twenty-four hours," came the swift retort.

"Interesting, if true," remarked the ranger carelessly, tossing his
gloves on the bed. "And may I ask to what I am indebted for the pleasure
of a visit from you?"

"I am returning your call, sir, and at the very earliest opportunity.
I assure you that I have been in the city less than ten minutes, Senor
whatever-you-choose-to-call-yourself. My promptness I leave you to
admire."

"Oh, you're prompt enough, lieutenant. I noticed that when you handed
over your gun to me so lamblike." He laughed it out flippantly,
buoyantly, though it was on his mind to wonder whether the choleric
little officer might not kill him out of hand for it.

But Chaves merely folded his arms and looked sternly at the American
with a manner very theatrical. "Miguel, disarm the prisoner," he
ordered.

"So I'm a prisoner," mused Bucky aloud. "And whyfor, lieutenant?"

"Stirring up insurrection against the government. The prisoner will not
talk," decreed his captor, a frowning gaze attempting to quell him.

But here the popinjay officer reckoned without his host, for that
gentleman had the most indomitable eyes in Arizona. It was not necessary
for him to stiffen his will to meet the other's attack. His manner was
still lazy, his gaze almost insolent in its indolence, but somewhere in
the blue eyes was that which told Chaves he was his master. The Mexican
might impotently rebel--and did; he might feed his vanity with the
swiftness of his revenge, but in his heart he kne