The American covered the girl's small brown hand with his huge paw.
"Carmelita, honey," he whispered. "Don't go, little gel—don't go. May I be struck blind and balmy right hyar, right naow, ef I tell you a word of a lie. Every night of his life he's thar, afore he comes down hyar with lies on his lips to yew. Don't go. Take my word fer it, an' John Bull's word, and young Rupert's word. They're White Men, honey, they wouldn't lie ter yew. Believe what we tell yew, and give ole John Bull back his promise, an' let him shoot-up this low-lifer rattlesnake.…"
"I will see with my own eyes," said Carmelita—adding with sound feminine logic, "and if he's not there to-night, I'll know that you have all lied to me, and that he never was there—and never, never, never again shall one of you enter my house, or my Legionaries shall nail you by the ears to the wall with their bayonets.… Shame on me, to doubt my Luigi for a moment."
The American gave way.
"Come on then, little gel," he said. "P'raps it's fer the best."
§2
Entering the Canteen that evening for his modest litre, 'Erb caught sight of his good friend, the Bucking Bronco, seated beside a Legionary whom 'Erb did not know. The American beckoned and 'Erb emitted a joyous sound to be heard more often in the Ratcliffe Highway than in the wilds of Algeria. Apparently his pal's companion was, or had been, in funds, for his head reposed upon his folded arms.
