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The Rustlers of Pecos County

by

Zane Grey

Contents

Chapter 1--VAUGHN STEELE AND RUSSSITTELL
Chapter 2--A KISS AND AN ARREST
Chapter 3--SOUNDING THE TIMBER
Chapter 4--STEELE BREAKS UP THEPARTY
Chapter 5--CLEANING OUT LINROCK
Chapter 6--ENTER JACK BLOME
Chapter 7--DIANE AND VAUGHN
Chapter 8--THE EAVESDROPPER
Chapter 9--IN FLAGRANTE DELICTO
Chapter 10--A SLAP IN THE FACE
Chapter 11--THE FIGHT IN THE HOPESO
Chapter 12--TORN TWO WAYS
Chapter 13--RUSS SITTELL INACTION
Chapter 14--THROUGH THE VALLEY
Chapter 15--CONVALESCENCE

Chapter 1

VAUGHN STEELE AND RUSS SITTELL

In the morning, after breakfasting early, I took a turn up and downthe main street of Sanderson, made observations and got informationlikely to serve me at some future day, and then I returned to the hotelready for what might happen.

The stage-coach was there and already full of passengers. This stagedid not go to Linrock, but I had found that another one left for thatpoint three days a week.

Several cowboy broncos stood hitched to a railing and a littlefarther down were two buckboards, with horses that took my eye. Theseprobably were the teams Colonel Sampson had spoken of to GeorgeWright.

As I strolled up, both men came out of the hotel. Wright saw me, andmaking an almost imperceptible sign to Sampson, he walked towardme.

"You're the cowboy Russ?" he asked.

I nodded and looked him over. By day he made as striking a figure asI had noted by night, but the light was not generous to his darkface.

"Here's your pay," he said, handing me some bills. "Miss Sampsonwon't need you out at the ranch any more."

"What do you mean? This is the first I've heard about that."

"Sorry, kid. That's it," he said abruptly. "She just gave me themoney—told me to pay you off. You needn't bother to speak withher about it."

He might as well have said, just as politely, that my seeing her,even to say good-by, was undesirable.

As my luck would have it, the girls appeared at the moment, and Iwent directly up to them, to be greeted in a manner I was glad GeorgeWright could not help but see.

In Miss Sampson's smile and "Good morning, Russ," there was not theslightest discoverable sign that I was not to serve herindefinitely.

It was as I had expected—she knew nothing of Wright'sdischarging me in her name.

"Miss Sampson," I said, in dismay, "what have I done? Why did youlet me go?"

She looked astonished.

"Russ, I don't understand you."

"Why did you discharge me?" I went on, trying to look heart-broken."I haven't had a chance yet. I wanted so much to work foryou—Miss Sally, what have I done? Why did she discharge me?"

"I did not," declared Miss Sampson, her dark eyes lighting.

"But look here—here's my pay," I went on, exhibiting themoney. "Mr. Wright just came to me—said you sent thismoney—that you wouldn't need me out at the ranch."

It was Miss Sally then who uttered a little exclamation. MissSampson seemed scarcely to have believed what she had heard.

"My cousin Mr. Wright said that?"

I nodded vehemently.

At this juncture Wright strode before me, practically thrusting measide.

"Come girls, let's walk a little before we start," he said gaily."I'll show you Sanderson."

"Wait, please," Miss Sampson replied, looking directly at him."Cousin George, I think there's a mistake—perhaps amisunderstanding. Here's the cowboy I've engaged—Mr. Russ. Hedeclares you gave him money—told him I discharged him."

"Yes, cousin, I did," he replied, his voice rising a little. Therewas a tinge of red in his cheek. "We—you don't need him out atthe ranch. We've any numbers of boys. I just told him that—lethim down easy—didn't want to bother you."

Certain it was that George Wright had made a poor reckoning. Firstshe showed utter amaze, then distinct disappointment, and then shelifted her head with a kind of haughty grace. She would have addressedhim then, had not Colonel Sampson come up.

"Papa, did you instruct Cousin George to discharge Russ?" sheasked.

"I sure didn't," declared the colonel, with a laugh. "George tookthat upon his own hands."

"Indeed! I'd like my cousin to understand that I'm my own mistress.I've been accustomed to attending to my own affairs and shall continuedoing so. Russ, I'm sorry you've been treated this way. Please, infuture, take your orders from me."

"Then I'm to go to Linrock with you?" I asked.

"Assuredly. Ride with Sally and me to-day, please."

She turned away with Sally, and they walked toward the firstbuckboard.

Colonel Sampson found a grim enjoyment in Wright's discomfiture.

"Diane's like her mother was, George," he said. "You've made a badstart with her."

Here Wright showed manifestation of the Sampson temper, and I tookhim to be a dangerous man, with unbridled passions.

"Russ, here's my own talk to you," he said, hard and dark, leaningtoward me. "Don't go to Linrock."

"Say, Mr. Wright," I blustered for all the world like a young andfrightened cowboy, "If you threaten me I'll have you put in jail!"

Both men seemed to have received a slight shock. Wright hardly knewwhat to make of my boyish speech. "Are you going to Linrock?" he askedthickly.

I eyed him with an entirely different glance from my other fearfulone.

"I should smile," was my reply, as caustic as the most recklesscowboy's, and I saw him shake.

Colonel Sampson laid a restraining hand upon Wright. Then they bothregarded me with undisguised interest. I sauntered away.

"George, your temper'll do for you some day," I heard the colonelsay. "You'll get in bad with the wrong man some time. Hello, here areJoe and Brick!"

Mention of these fellows engaged my attention once more.

I saw two cowboys, one evidently getting his name from his brick-redhair. They were the roistering type, hard drinkers, devil-may-carefellows, packing guns and wearing bold fronts—a kind that theRangers always called four-flushes.

However, as the Rangers' standard of nerve was high, there was roomleft for cowboys like these to be dangerous to ordinary men.

The little one was Joe, and directly Wright spoke to him he turnedto look at me, and his thin mouth slanted down as he looked. Brick eyedme, too, and I saw that he was heavy, not a hard-riding cowboy.

Here right at the start were three enemies for me—Wright andhis cowboys. But it did not matter; under any circumstances there wouldhave been friction between such men and me.

I believed there might have been friction right then had not MissSampson called for me.

"Get our baggage, Russ," she said.

I hurried to comply, and when I had fetched it out Wright and thecowboys had mounted their horses, Colonel Sampson was in the onebuckboard with two men I had not before observed, and the girls were inthe other.

The driver of this one was a tall, lanky, tow-headed youth, growinglike a Texas weed. We had not any too much room in the buckboard, butthat fact was not going to spoil the ride for me.

We followed the leaders through the main street, out into the open,on to a wide, hard-packed road, showing years of travel. It headednorthwest.

To our left rose the range of low, bleak mountains I had notedyesterday, and to our right sloped the mesquite-patched sweep of ridgeand flat.

The driver pushed his team to a fast trot, which gait surely coveredground rapidly. We were close behind Colonel Sampson, who, from hisvehement gestures, must have been engaged in very earnest colloquy withhis companions.

The girls behind me, now that they were nearing the end of thejourney, manifested less interest in the ride, and were speculatingupon Linrock, and what it would be like. Occasionally I asked thedriver a question, and sometimes the girls did likewise; but, to mydisappointment, the ride seemed not to be the same as that ofyesterday.

Every half mile or so we passed a ranch house, and as we traveled onthese ranches grew further apart, until, twelve or fifteen miles out ofSanderson, they were so widely separated that each appeared alone onthe wild range.

We came to a stream that ran north and I was surprised to see agoodly volume of water. It evidently flowed down from the mountain farto the west.

Tufts of grass were well scattered over the sandy ground, but it washigh and thick, and considering the immense area in sight, there wasgrazing for a million head of stock.

We made three stops in the forenoon, one at a likely place to waterthe horses, the second at a chuckwagon belonging to cowboys who wereriding after stock, and the third at a small cluster of adobe and stonehouses, constituting a hamlet the driver called Sampson, named afterthe Colonel. From that point on to Linrock there were only a fewranches, each one controlling great acreage.

Early in the afternoon from a ridgetop we sighted Linrock, a greenpath in the mass of gray. For the barrens of Texas it was indeed a fairsight.

But I was more concerned with its remoteness from civilization thanits beauty. At that time in the early 'seventies, when the vast westernthird of Texas was a wilderness, the pioneer had done wonders to settlethere and establish places like Linrock.

As we rolled swiftly along, the whole sweeping range was dotted withcattle, and farther on, within a few miles of town, there were drovesof horses that brought enthusiastic praise from Miss Sampson and hercousin.

"Plenty of room here for the long rides," I said, waving a hand atthe gray-green expanse. "Your horses won't suffer on this range."

She was delighted, and her cousin for once seemed speechless.

"That's the ranch," said the driver, pointing with his whip.

It needed only a glance for me to see that Colonel Sampson's ranchwas on a scale fitting the country.

The house was situated on the only elevation around Linrock, and itwas not high, nor more than a few minutes' walk from the edge oftown.

It was a low, flat-roofed structure, made of red adobe bricks andcovered what appeared to be fully an acre of ground. All was greenabout it except where the fenced corrals and numerous barns or shedsshowed gray and red.

Wright and the cowboys disappeared ahead of us in the cottonwoodtrees. Colonel Sampson got out of the buckboard and waited for us. Hisface wore the best expression I had seen upon it yet. There was warmthand love, and something that approached sorrow or regret.

His daughter was agitated, too. I got out and offered my seat, whichColonel Sampson took.

It was scarcely a time for me to be required, or even noticed atall, and I took advantage of it and turned toward the town.

Ten minutes of leisurely walking brought me to the shady outskirtsof Linrock and I entered the town with mingled feelings of curiosity,eagerness, and expectation.

The street I walked down was not a main one. There were small, redhouses among oaks and cottonwoods.

I went clear through to the other side, probably more than half amile. I crossed a number of intersecting streets, met children,nice-looking women, and more than one dusty-booted man.

Half-way back this street I turned at right angles and walked upseveral blocks till I came to a tree-bordered plaza. On the far sideopened a broad street which for all its horses and people had a sleepylook.

I walked on, alert, trying to take in everything, wondering if Iwould meet Steele, wondering how I would know him if we did meet. But Ibelieved I could have picked that Ranger out of a thousand strangers,though I had never seen him.

Presently the residences gave place to buildings fronting right uponthe stone sidewalk. I passed a grain store, a hardware store, a grocerystore, then several unoccupied buildings and a vacant corner.

The next block, aside from the rough fronts of the crude structures,would have done credit to a small town even in eastern Texas. Here wasevidence of business consistent with any prosperous community of twothousand inhabitants.

The next block, on both sides of the street, was a solid row ofsaloons, resorts, hotels. Saddled horses stood hitched all along thesidewalk in two long lines, with a buckboard and team here and therebreaking the continuity. This block was busy and noisy.

From all outside appearances, Linrock was no different from otherfrontier towns, and my expectations were scarcely realized.

As the afternoon was waning I retraced my steps and returned to theranch. The driver boy, whom I had heard called Dick, was looking forme, evidently at Miss Sampson's order, and he led me up to thehouse.

It was even bigger than I had conceived from a distance, and so oldthat the adobe bricks were worn smooth by rain and wind. I had aglimpse in at several doors as we passed by.

There was comfort here that spoke eloquently of many a freighter'strip from Del Rio. For the sake of the young ladies, I was glad to seethings little short of luxurious for that part of the country.

At the far end of the house Dick conducted me to a little room, verysatisfactory indeed to me. I asked about bunk-houses for the cowboys,and he said they were full to overflowing.

"Colonel Sampson has a big outfit, eh?"

"Reckon he has," replied Dick. "Don' know how many cowboys. They'realways comin' an' goin'. I ain't acquainted with half of them."

"Much movement of stock these days?"

"Stock's always movin'," he replied with a queer look.

"Rustlers?"

But he did not follow up that look with the affirmative Iexpected.

"Lively place, I hear—Linrock is?"

"Ain't so lively as Sanderson, but it's bigger."

"Yes, I heard it was. Fellow down there was talking about twocowboys who were arrested."

"Sure. I heerd all about thet. Joe Bean an' Brick Higgins—theybelong heah, but they ain't heah much."

I did not want Dick to think me overinquisitive, so I turned thetalk into other channels. It appeared that Miss Sampson had not leftany instructions for me, so I was glad to go with Dick to supper, whichwe had in the kitchen.

Dick informed me that the cowboys prepared their own meals down atthe bunks; and as I had been given a room at the ranch-house hesupposed I would get my meals there, too.

After supper I walked all over the grounds, had a look at the horsesin the corrals, and came to the conclusion that it would be strange ifMiss Sampson did not love her new home, and if her cousin did not enjoyher sojourn there. From a distance I saw the girls approaching withWright, and not wishing to meet them I sheered off.

When the sun had set I went down to the town with the intention offinding Steele.

This task, considering I dared not make inquiries and must approachhim secretly, might turn out to be anything but easy.

While it was still light, I strolled up and down the main street.When darkness set in I went into a hotel, bought cigars, sat around andwatched, without any clue.

Then I went into the next place. This was of a rough crude exterior,but the inside was comparatively pretentious, and ablaze withlights.

It was full of men, coming and going—a dusty-booted crowd thatsmelled of horses and smoke.

I sat down for a while, with wide eyes and open ears. Then I huntedup a saloon, where most of the guests had been or were going. I found agreat square room lighted by six huge lamps, a bar at one side, and allthe floor space taken up by tables and chairs.

This must have been the gambling resort mentioned in the Ranger'sletter to Captain Neal and the one rumored to be owned by the mayor ofLinrock. This was the only gambling place of any size in southern Texasin which I had noted the absence of Mexicans. There was some cardplaying going on at this moment.

I stayed in there for a while, and knew that strangers were toocommon in Linrock to be conspicuous. But I saw no man whom I could havetaken for Steele.

Then I went out.

It had often been a boast of mine that I could not spend an hour ina strange town, or walk a block along a dark street, without havingsomething happen out of the ordinary.

Mine was an experiencing nature. Some people called this luck. Butit was my private opinion that things gravitated my way because Ilooked and listened for them.

However, upon the occasion of my first day and evening in Linrock itappeared, despite my vigilance and inquisitiveness, that here was to bean exception.

This thought came to me just before I reached the last lighted placein the block, a little dingy restaurant, out of which at the moment, atall, dark form passed. It disappeared in the gloom. I saw a mansitting on the low steps, and another standing in the door.

"That was the fellow the whole town's talkin' about—theRanger," said one man.

Like a shot I halted in the shadow, where I had not been seen.

"Sho! Ain't boardin' heah, is he?" said the other.

"Yes."

"Reckon he'll hurt your business, Jim."

The fellow called Jim emitted a mirthless laugh. "Wal, he's beenall my business these days. An' he's offered to rent that old'dobe of mine just out of town. You know, where I lived before movin'in heah. He's goin' to look at it to-morrow."

"Lord! does he expect tostay?"

"Say so. An' if he ain't a stayer I never seen none. Nice, quiet,easy chap, but he just looks deep."

"Aw, Jim, he can't hang out heah. He's after some feller, that'sall."

"I don't know his game. But he says he was heah for a while. An' heimpressed me some. Just now he says: 'Where does Sampson live?' I askedhim if he was goin' to make a call on our mayor, an' he says yes. ThenI told him how to go out to the ranch. He went out, headed thatway."

"The hell he did!"

I gathered from this fellow's exclamation that he was dividedbetween amaze and mirth. Then he got up from the steps and went intothe restaurant and was followed by the man called Jim. Before the doorwas closed he made another remark, but it was unintelligible to me.

As I passed on I decided I would scrape acquaintance with thisrestaurant keeper.

The thing of most moment was that I had gotten track of Steele. Ihurried ahead. While I had been listening back there moments hadelapsed and evidently he had walked swiftly.

I came to the plaza, crossed it, and then did not know whichdirection to take. Concluding that it did not matter I hurried on in anendeavor to reach the ranch before Steele. Although I was not sure, Ibelieved I had succeeded.

The moon shone brightly. I heard a banjo in the distance and acowboy sing. There was not a person in sight in the wide courts or onthe porch. I did not have a well-defined idea about the inside of thehouse.

Peeping in at the first lighted window I saw a large room. MissSampson and Sally were there alone. Evidently this was a parlor or asitting room, and it had clean white walls, a blanketed floor, an openfireplace with a cheery blazing log, and a large table upon which werelamp, books, papers. Backing away I saw that this corner room had adoor opening on the porch and two other windows.

I listened, hoping to hear Steele's footsteps coming up the road.But I heard only Sally's laugh and her cousin's mellow voice.

Then I saw lighted windows down at the other end of the front partof the house. I walked down. A door stood open and through it I saw aroom identical with that at the other corner; and here were ColonelSampson, Wright, and several other men, all smoking and talking.

It might have been interesting to tarry there within ear-shot, but Iwanted to get back to the road to intercept Steele. Scarcely had Iretraced my steps and seated myself on the porch steps when a very talldark figure loomed up in the moonlit road.

Steele! I wanted to yell like a boy. He came on slowly, looking allaround, halted some twenty paces distant, surveyed the house, thenevidently espying me, came on again.

My first feeling was, What a giant! But his face was hidden in theshadow of a sombrero.

I had intended, of course, upon first sight to blurt out myidentity. Yet I did not. He affected me strangely, or perhaps it was myemotion at the thought that we Rangers, with so much in common and atstake, had come together.

"Is Sampson at home?" he asked abruptly.

I said, "Yes."

"Ask him if he'll see Vaughn Steele, Ranger."

"Wait here," I replied. I did not want to take up any time thenexplaining my presence there.

Deliberately and noisily I strode down the porch and entered theroom with the smoking men.

I went in farther than was necessary for me to state my errand. ButI wanted to see Sampson's face, to see into his eyes.

As I entered, the talking ceased. I saw no face except his and thatseemed blank.

"Vaughn Steele, Ranger—come to see you, sir." I announced.

Did Sampson start—did his eyes show a fleeting glint—didhis face almost imperceptibly blanch? I could not have sworn to either.But there was a change, maybe from surprise.

The first sure effect of my announcement came in a quick exclamationfrom Wright, a sibilant intake of breath, that did not seem to denotesurprise so much as certainty. Wright might have emitted a curse withless force.

Sampson moved his hand significantly and the action was a voicelesscommand for silence as well as an assertion that he would attend tothis matter. I read him clearly so far. He had authority, and again Ifelt his power.

"Steele to see me. Did he state his business?"

"No, sir." I replied.

"Russ, say I'm not at home," said Sampson presently, bending over torelight his pipe.

I went out. Someone slammed the door behind me.

As I strode back across the porch my mind worked swiftly; themachinery had been idle for a while and was now started.

"Mr. Steele," I said, "Colonel Sampson says he's not at home. Tellyour business to his daughter."

Without waiting to see the effect of my taking so much upon myself,I knocked upon the parlor door. Miss Sampson opened it. She wore white.Looking at her, I thought it would be strange if Steele's well-knownindifference to women did not suffer an eclipse.

"Miss Sampson, here is Vaughn Steele to see you," I said.

"Won't you come in?" she said graciously.

Steele had to bend his head to enter the door. I went in with him,an intrusion, perhaps, that in the interest of the moment she appearednot to notice.

Steele seemed to fill the room with his giant form. His face wasfine, stern, clear cut, with blue or gray eyes, strangely penetrating.He was coatless, vestless. He wore a gray flannel shirt, corduroys, abig gun swinging low, and top boots reaching to his knees.

He was the most stalwart son of Texas I had seen in many a day, butneither his great stature nor his striking face accounted for somethingI felt—a something spiritual, vital, compelling, that drewme.

"Mr. Steele, I'm pleased to meet you," said Miss Sampson. "This ismy cousin, Sally Langdon. We just arrived—I to make this my home,she to visit me."

Steele smiled as he bowed to Sally. He was easy, with a kind of rudegrace, and showed no sign of embarrassment or that beautiful girls wereunusual to him.

"Mr. Steele, we've heard of you in Austin," said Sally with her eyesmisbehaving.

I hoped I would not have to be jealous of Steele. But this girl wasa little minx if not altogether a flirt.

"I did not expect to be received by ladies," replied Steele. "Icalled upon Mr. Sampson. He would not see me. I was to tell my businessto his daughter. I'm glad to know you, Miss Sampson and your cousin,but sorry you've come to Linrock now."

"Why?" queried both girls in unison.

"Because it's—oh, pretty rough—no place for girls towalk and ride."

"Ah! I see. And your business has to do with rough places," saidMiss Sampson. "Strange that papa would not see you. Stranger that heshould want me to hear your business. Either he's joking or wants toimpress me.

"Papa tried to persuade me not to come. He tried to frighten me withtales of this—this roughness out here. He knows I'm in earnest,how I'd like to help somehow, do some little good. Pray tell me thisbusiness."

"I wished to get your father's cooperation in my work."

"Your work? You mean your Ranger duty—the arresting of roughcharacters?"

"That, yes. But that's only a detail. Linrock is bad internally. Myjob is to make it good."

"A splendid and worthy task," replied Miss Sampson warmly. "I wishyou success. But, Mr. Steele, aren't you exaggerating Linrock'swickedness?"

"No," he answered forcibly.

"Indeed! And papa refused to see you—presumably refused tocooperate with you?" she asked thoughtfully.

"I take it that way."

"Mr. Steele, pray tell me what is the matter with Linrock and justwhat the work is you're called upon to do?" she asked seriously. "Iheard papa say that he was the law in Linrock. Perhaps he resentsinterference. I know he'll not tolerate any opposition to his will.Please tell me. I may be able to influence him."

I listened to Steele's deep voice as he talked about Linrock. Whathe said was old to me, and I gave heed only to its effect.

Miss Sampson's expression, which at first had been earnest andgrave, turned into one of incredulous amaze. She, and Sally too,watched Steele's face in fascinated attention.

When it came to telling what he wanted to do, the Ranger warmed tohis subject; he talked beautifully, convincingly, with a certainstrange, persuasive power that betrayed how he worked his way; and hisfine face, losing its stern, hard lines, seemed to glow and give fortha spirit austere, yet noble, almost gentle, assuredly something vastlydifferent from what might have been expected in the expression of agun-fighting Ranger. I sensed that Miss Sampson felt this just as Idid.

"Papa said you were a hounder of outlaws—a man who'd ratherkill than save!" she exclaimed.

The old stern cast returned to Steele's face. It was as if he hadsuddenly remembered himself.

"My name is infamous, I am sorry to say," he replied.

"You have killed men?" she asked, her dark eyes dilating.

Had any one ever dared ask Steele that before? His face became amask. It told truth to me, but she could not see, and he did notanswer.

"Oh, you are above that. Don't—don't kill any one here!"

"Miss Sampson, I hope I won't." His voice seemed to check her. I hadbeen right in my estimate of her character—young, untried, butall pride, fire, passion. She was white then, and certainlybeautiful.

Steele watched her, could scarcely have failed to see the whitegleam of her beauty, and all that evidence of a quick and nobleheart.

"Pardon me, please, Mr. Steele," she said, recovering her composure."I am—just a little overexcited. I didn't mean to be inquisitive.Thank you for your confidence. I've enjoyed your call, though your newsdid distress me. You may rely upon me to talk to papa."

That appeared to be a dismissal, and, bowing to her and Sally, theRanger went out. I followed, not having spoken.

At the end of the porch I caught up with Steele and walked out intothe moonlight beside him.

Just why I did not now reveal my identity I could not say, forcertainly I was bursting with the desire to surprise him, to earn hisapproval. He loomed dark above me, appearing not to be aware of mypresence. What a cold, strange proposition this Ranger was!

Still, remembering the earnestness of his talk to Miss Sampson, Icould not think him cold. But I must have thought him so to anyattraction of those charming girls.

Suddenly, as we passed under the shade of cottonwoods, he clamped abig hand down on my shoulder.

"My God, Russ, isn't she lovely!" he ejaculated.

In spite of my being dumbfounded I had to hug him. He knew me!

"Thought you didn't swear!" I gasped.

Ridiculously those were my first words to Vaughn Steele.

"My boy, I saw you parading up and down the street looking for me,"he said. "I intended to help you find me to-morrow."

We gripped hands, and that strong feel and clasp meant much.

"Yes, she's lovely, Steele," I said. "But did you look at thecousin, the little girl with the eyes?"

Then we laughed and loosed hands.

"Come on, let's get out somewhere. I've a million things to tellyou."

We went away out into the open where some stones gleamed white inthe moonlight, and there, sitting in the sand, our backs against arest, and with all quiet about us, we settled down for a longconference.

I began with Neal's urgent message to me, then told of my going tothe capitol—what I had overheard when Governor Smith was in theadjutant's office; of my interview with them; of the spying on ColonelSampson; Neal's directions, advice, and command; the ride toward SanAntonio; my being engaged as cowboy by Miss Sampson; of the furtherride on to Sanderson and the incident there; and finally how I hadapproached Sampson and then had thought it well to get his daughterinto the scheme of things.

It was a long talk, even for me, and my voice sounded husky.

"I told Neal I'd be lucky to get you," said Steele, after asilence.

That was the only comment on my actions, the only praise, but thequiet way he spoke it made me feel like a boy undeserving of somuch.

"Here, I forgot the money Neal sent," I went on, glad to be rid ofthe huge roll of bills.

The Ranger showed surprise. Besides, he was very glad.

"The Captain loves the service," said Steele. "He alone knows theworth of the Rangers. And the work he's given his life to—thegood thatservice really does—all depends on youand me, Russ!"

I assented, gloomily enough. Then I waited while he pondered.

The moon soared clear; there was a cool wind rustling thegreasewood; a dog bayed a barking coyote; lights twinkled down in thetown.

I looked back up at the dark hill and thought of Sally Langdon.Getting here to Linrock, meeting Steele had not changed my feelingstoward her, only somehow they had removed me far off in thought, out ofpossible touch, it seemed.

"Well, son, listen," began Steele. His calling me that was a joke,yet I did not feel it. "You've made a better start than I could havefigured. Neal said you were lucky. Perhaps. But you've got brains.

"Now, here's your cue for the present. Work for Miss Sampson. Doyour best for her as long as you last. I don't suppose you'll lastlong. You have got to get in with this gang in town. Be a flash cowboy.You don't need to get drunk, but you're to pretend it.

"Gamble. Be a good fellow. Hang round the barrooms. I don't care howyou play the part, so long as you make friends, learn the ropes. We canmeet out here at nights to talk and plan.

"You're to take sides with those who're against me. I'll furnish youwith the money. You'd better appear to be a winning gambler, even ifyou're not. How's this plan strike you?"

"Great—except for one thing," I replied. "I hate to lie toMiss Sampson. She's true blue, Steele."

"Son, you haven't got soft on her?"

"Not a bit. Maybe I'm soft on the little cousin. But I just likeMiss Sampson—think she's fine—could look up to her. And Ihate to be different from what she thinks."

"I understand, Russ," he replied in his deep voice that had suchquality to influence a man. "It's no decent job. You'll be ashamedbefore her. So would I. But here's our work, the hardest ever cut outfor Rangers. Think what depends upon it. And—"

"There's something wrong with Miss Sampson's father," Iinterrupted.

"Something strange if not wrong. No man in this community is beyondus, Russ, or above suspicion. You've a great opportunity. I needn't sayuse your eyes and ears as never before."

"I hope Sampson turns out to be on the square," I replied. "He mightbe a lax mayor, too good-natured to uphold law in a wild country. Andhis Southern pride would fire at interference. I don't like him, butfor his daughter's sake I hope we're wrong."

Steele's eyes, deep and gleaming in the moonlight, searched myface.

"Son, sure you're not in love with her—you'll not fall in lovewith her?"

"No. I am positive. Why?"

"Because in either case I'd likely have need of a new man in yourplace," he said.

"Steele, you know something about Sampson—something more!" Iexclaimed swiftly.

"No more than you. When I meet him face to face I may know more.Russ, when a fellow has been years at this game he has a sixth sense.Mine seldom fails me. I never yet faced the criminal who didn't somehowbetray fear—not so much fear of me, but fear of himself—hislife, his deeds. That's conscience, or if not, just realization offate."

Had that been the thing I imagined I had seen in Sampson's face?

"I'm sorry Diane Sampson came out here," I said impulsively.

Steele did not say he shared that feeling. He was looking out uponthe moon-blanched level.

Some subtle thing in his face made me divine that he was thinking ofthe beautiful girl to whom he might bring disgrace and unhappiness.

Chapter 2

A KISS AND AN ARREST

A month had passed, a swift-flying time full of new life. Wonderfulit was for me to think I was still in Diane Sampson's employ.

It was the early morning hour of a day in May. The sun had not yetgrown hot. Dew like diamond drops sparkled on the leaves and grass. Thegentle breeze was clear, sweet, with the song of larks upon it.

And the range, a sea of gray-green growing greener, swept awaywestward in rolling ridges and hollows, like waves to meet the dark,low hills that notched the horizon line of blue.

I was sitting on the top bar of the corral fence and before me stoodthree saddled horses that would have gladdened any eye. I was waitingto take the young ladies on their usual morning ride.

Once upon a time, in what seemed the distant past to this eventfulmonth, I had flattered myself there had been occasions for thought, butscornfully I soliloquized that in those days I had no cue for thoughtsuch as I had now.

This was one of the moments when my real self seemed to stand offand skeptically regard the fictitious cowboy.

This gentleman of the range wore a huge sombrero with an ornamentedsilver band, a silken scarf of red, a black velvet shirt, much affectedby the Indians, an embroidered buckskin vest, corduroys, and fringedchaps with silver buttons, a big blue gun swinging low, high heeledboots, and long spurs with silver rowels.

A flash cowboy! Steele vowed I was a born actor.

But I never divulged the fact that had it not been for myinfatuation for Sally, I never could have carried on that part, not tosave the Ranger service, or the whole State of Texas.

The hardest part had not been the establishing of a reputation. Thescorn of cowboys, the ridicule of gamblers, the badinage of the youngbucks of the settlement—these I had soon made dangerousprocedures for any one. I was quick with tongue and fist and gun.

There had been fights and respect was quickly earned, though theconstant advent of strangers in Linrock always had me in hot water.

Moreover, instead of being difficult, it was fun to spend all thetime I could in the hotels and resorts, shamming a weakness for drink,gambling, lounging, making friends among the rough set, when all thetime I was a cool, keen registering machine.

The hard thing was the lie I lived in the eyes of Diane Sampson andSally Langdon.

I had indeed won the sincere regard of my employer. Her father, hercousin George, and new-made friends in town had come to her with talesof my reckless doings, and had urged my dismissal.

But she kept me and all the time pleaded like a sister to have memend my vicious ways. She believed what she was told about me, but hadfaith in me despite that.

As for Sally, I had fallen hopelessly in love with her. By turnsSally was indifferent to me, cold, friendly like a comrade, anddangerously sweet.

Somehow she saw through me, knew I was not just what I pretended tobe. But she never breathed her conviction. She championed me. I wantedto tell her the truth about myself because I believed the doubt of mealone stood in the way of my winning her.

Still that might have been my vanity. She had never said she caredfor me although she had looked it.

This tangle of my personal life, however, had not in the leastaffected my loyalty and duty to Vaughn Steele. Day by day I had grownmore attached to him, keener in the interest of our work.

It had been a busy month—a month of foundation building. Myvigilance and my stealthy efforts had not been rewarded by anythingcalculated to strengthen our suspicions of Sampson. But then he hadbeen absent from the home very often, and was difficult to watch whenhe was there.

George Wright came and went, too, presumably upon stock business. Icould not yet see that he was anything but an honest rancher, deeplyinvolved with Sampson and other men in stock deals; nevertheless, as aman he had earned my contempt.

He was a hard drinker, cruel to horses, a gambler not above stackingthe cards, a quick-tempered, passionate Southerner.

He had fallen in love with Diane Sampson, was like her shadow whenat home. He hated me; he treated me as if I were the scum of the earth;if he had to address me for something, which was seldom, he did itharshly, like ordering a dog. Whenever I saw his sinister, handsomeface, with its dark eyes always half shut, my hand itched for my gun,and I would go my way with something thick and hot inside mybreast.

In my talks with Steele we spent time studying George Wright'scharacter and actions. He was Sampson's partner, and at the head of asmall group of Linrock ranchers who were rich in cattle and property,if not in money.

Steele and I had seen fit to wait before we made any thoroughinvestigation into their business methods. Ours was a waiting game,anyway.

Right at the start Linrock had apparently arisen in resentment atthe presence of Vaughn Steele. But it was my opinion that there weremen in Linrock secretly glad of the Ranger's presence.

What he intended to do was food for great speculation. His fame, ofcourse, had preceded him. A company of militia could not have had theeffect upon the wild element of Linrock that Steele's presence had.

A thousand stories went from lip to lip, most of which were false.He was lightning swift on the draw. It was death to face him. He hadkilled thirty men—wildest rumor of all.

He had the gun skill of Buck Duane, the craft of Cheseldine, thedeviltry of King Fisher, the most notorious of Texas desperadoes. Hisnerve, his lack of fear—those made him stand out alone even amonga horde of bold men.

At first there had not only been great conjecture among the viciouselement, with which I had begun to affiliate myself, but also a verydecided checking of all kinds of action calculated to be conspicuous toa keen eyed Ranger.

Steele did not hide, but during these opening days of his stay inLinrock he was not often seen in town. At the tables, at the bars andlounging places remarks went the rounds:

"Who's thet Ranger after? What'll he do fust off? Is he waitin' fersomebody? Who's goin' to draw on him fust—an' go to hell? Jestabout how soon will he be found somewhere full of lead?"

Those whom it was my interest to cultivate grew more curious, morespeculative and impatient as time went by. When it leaked out somewherethat Steele was openly cultivating the honest stay-at-home citizens, toarray them in time against the other element, then Linrock showed itswolf teeth hinted of in the letters to Captain Neal.

Several times Steele was shot at in the dark and once slightlyinjured. Rumor had it that Jack Blome, the gunman of those parts, wascoming in to meet Steele. Part of Linrock awakened and another part,much smaller, became quieter, more secluded.

Strangers upon whom we could get no line mysteriously came and went.The drinking, gambling, fighting in the resorts seemed to gatherrenewed life. Abundance of money floated in circulation.

And rumors, vague and unfounded, crept in from Sanderson and otherpoints, rumors of a gang of rustlers off here, a hold-up of the stageoff here, robbery of a rancher at this distant point, and murder doneat another.

This was Texas and New Mexico life in these frontier days but,strangely neither Steele nor I had yet been able to associate any rumoror act with a possible gang of rustlers in Linrock.

Nevertheless we had not been discouraged. After three weeks ofwaiting we had become alive to activity around us, and though it wasunseen, we believed we would soon be on its track.

My task was the busier and the easier. Steele had to have a care forhis life. I never failed to caution him of this.

My long reflection on the month's happenings and possibilities wasbrought to an end by the disappearance of Miss Sampson and Sally.

My employer looked worried. Sally was in a regular cowgirl ridingcostume, in which her trim, shapely figure showed at its best, and herface was saucy, sparkling, daring.

"Good morning, Russ," said Miss Sampson and she gazed searchingly atme. I had dropped off the fence, sombrero in hand. I knew I was in fora lecture, and I put on a brazen, innocent air.

"Did you break your promise to me?" she asked reproachfully.

"Which one?" I asked. It was Sally's bright eyes upon me, ratherthan Miss Sampson's reproach, that bothered me.

"About getting drunk again," she said.

"I didn't breakthat one."

"My cousin George saw you in the Hope So gambling place last night,drunk, staggering, mixing with that riffraff, on the verge of abrawl."

"Miss Sampson, with all due respect to Mr. Wright, I want to saythat he has a strange wish to lower me in the eyes of you ladies," Iprotested with a fine show of spirit.

"Russ,were you drunk?" she demanded.

"No. I should think you needn't ask me that. Didn't you ever see aman the morning after a carouse?"

Evidently she had. And there I knew I stood, fresh, clean-shaven,clear-eyed as the morning.

Sally's saucy face grew thoughtful, too. The only thing she had everasked of me was not to drink. The habit had gone hard with the Sampsonfamily.

"Russ, you look just as—as nice as I'd want you to," MissSampson replied. "I don't know what to think. They tell me things. Youdeny. Whom shall I believe? George swore he saw you."

"Miss Sampson, did I ever lie to you?"

"Not to my knowledge."

Then I looked at her, and she understood what I meant.

"George has lied to me. That day at Sanderson. And since, too, Ifear. Do you say he lies?"

"Miss Sampson, I would not call your cousin a liar."

Here Sally edged closer, with the bridle rein of her horse over herarm.

"Russ, cousin George isn't the only one who saw you. Burt Waterstold me the same," said Sally nervously. I believed she hoped I wastelling the truth.

"Waters! So he runs me down behind my back. All right, I won't say aword about him. But do you believe I was drunk when I say no?"

"I'm afraid I do, Russ," she replied in reluctance. Was she testingme?

"See here, Miss Sampson," I burst out. "Why don't you discharge me?Please let me go. I'm not claiming much for myself, but you don'tbelieve even that. I'm pretty bad. I never denied the scraps, thegambling—all that. But I did do as Miss Sally asked me—Idid keep my promise to you. Now, discharge me. Then I'll be free tocall on Mr. Burt Waters."

Miss Sampson looked alarmed and Sally turned pale, to my extremejoy.

Those girls believed I was a desperate devil of a cowboy, who hadbeen held back from spilling blood solely through their kind relationto me.

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Sally. "Diane, don't let him go!"

"Russ, pray don't get angry," replied Miss Sampson and she put asoft hand on me that thrilled me, while it made me feel like a villain."I won't discharge you. I need you. Sally needs you. After all, it'snone of my business what you do away from here. But I hoped I would beso happy to—to reclaim you from—Didn't you ever have asister, Russ?"

I kept silent for fear that I would perjure myself anew. Yet thesituation was delicious, and suddenly I conceived a wild idea.

"Miss Sampson," I began haltingly, but with brave front, "I've beenwild in the past. But I've been tolerably straight here, trying toplease you. Lately I have been going to the bad again. Not drunk, butleaning that way. Lord knows what I'll do soon if—if my troubleisn't cured."

"Russ! What trouble?"

"You know what's the matter with me," I went on hurriedly. "Anybodycould see that."

Sally turned a flaming scarlet. Miss Sampson made it easier for meby reason of her quick glance of divination.

"I've fallen in love with Miss Sally. I'm crazy about her. Here I'vegot to see these fellows flirting with her. And it's killing me.I've—"

"If you are crazy about me, you don't have to tell!" cried Sally,red and white by turns.

"I want to stop your flirting one way or another. I've been inearnest. I wasn't flirting. I begged you to—to..."

"You never did," interrupted Sally furiously. That hint had been aspark.

"I couldn't have dreamed it," I protested, in a passion to beearnest, yet tingling with the fun of it. "That day when I—didn'tI ask..."

"If my memory serves me correctly, you didn't ask anything," shereplied, with anger and scorn now struggling with mirth.

"But, Sally, I meant to. You understood me? Say you didn't believe Icould take that liberty without honorable intentions."

That was too much for Sally. She jumped at her horse, made thequickest kind of a mount, and was off like a flash.

"Stop me if you can," she called back over her shoulder, her facealight and saucy.

"Russ, go after her," said Miss Sampson. "In that mood she'll rideto Sanderson. My dear fellow, don't stare so. I understand many thingsnow. Sally is a flirt. She would drive any man mad. Russ, I've grown ina short time to like you. If you'll be a man—give up drinking andgambling—maybe you'll have a chance with her. Hurry now—goafter her."

I mounted and spurred my horse after Sally's. She was down on thelevel now, out in the open, and giving her mount his head. Even had Iwanted to overhaul her at once the matter would have been difficult,well nigh impossible under five miles.

Sally had as fast a horse as there was on the range; she made noweight in the saddle, and she could ride. From time to time she lookedback over her shoulder.

I gained enough to make her think I was trying to catch her. Sallyloved a horse; she loved a race; she loved to win.

My good fortune had given me more than one ride alone with Sally.Miss Sampson enjoyed riding, too; but she was not a madcap, and whenshe accompanied us there was never any race.

When Sally got out alone with me she made me ride to keep her fromdisappearing somewhere on the horizon. This morning I wanted her toenjoy to the fullest her utter freedom and to feel that for once Icould not catch her.

Perhaps my declaration to Miss Sampson had liberated my strongestemotions.

However that might be, the fact was that no ride before had everbeen like this one—no sky so blue, no scene so open, free, andenchanting as that beautiful gray-green range, no wind so sweet. Thebreeze that rushed at me might have been laden with the perfume ofSally Langdon's hair.

I sailed along on what seemed a strange ride. Grazing horses prancedand whistled as I went by; jack-rabbits bounded away to hide in thelonger clumps of grass; a prowling wolf trotted from his covert near aherd of cattle.

Far to the west rose the low, dark lines of bleak mountains. Theywere always mysterious to me, as if holding a secret I needed toknow.

It was a strange ride because in the back of my head worked ahaunting consciousness of the deadly nature of my business there on thefrontier, a business in such contrast with this dreaming and dallying,this longing for what surely was futile.

Any moment I might be stripped of my disguise. Any moment I mighthave to be the Ranger.

Sally kept the lead across the wide plain, and mounted to the top ofa ridge, where tired out, and satisfied with her victory, she awaitedme. I was in no hurry to reach the summit of the long, slow-slopingridge, and I let my horse walk.

Just how would Sally Langdon meet me now, after my regrettedexhibition before her cousin? There was no use to conjecture, but I wasnot hopeful.

When I got there to find her in her sweetest mood, with some littledifference never before noted—a touch of shyness—Iconcealed my surprise.

"Russ, I gave you a run that time," she said. "Ten miles and younever caught me!"

"But look at the start you had. I've had my troubles beating youwith an even break."

Sally was susceptible to flattery in regard to her riding, a factthat I made subtle use of.

"But in a long race I was afraid you'd beat me. Russ, I've learnedto ride out here. Back home I never had room to ride a horse. Justlook. Miles and miles of level, of green. Little hills with blackbunches of trees. Not a soul in sight. Even the town hidden in thegreen. All wild and lonely. Isn't it glorious, Russ?"

"Lately it's been getting to me," I replied soberly.

We both gazed out over the sea of gray-green, at the undulatingwaves of ground in the distance. On these rides with her I had learnedto appreciate the beauty of the lonely reaches of plain.

But when I could look at her I seldom wasted time on scenery.Looking at her now I tried to get again that impression of a differencein her. It eluded me.

Just now with the rose in her brown cheeks, her hair flying, hereyes with grave instead of mocking light, she seemed only prettier thanusual. I got down ostensibly to tighten the saddle girths on her horse.But I lingered over the task.

Presently, when she looked down at me, I received that subtleimpression of change, and read it as her soft mood of dangeroussweetness that came so seldom, mingled with something deeper, more ofcharacter and womanliness than I had ever sensed in her.

"Russ, it wasn't nice to tell Diane that," she said.

"Nice! It was—oh, I'd like to swear!" I ejaculated. "But now Iunderstand my miserable feeling. I was jealous, Sally, I'm sorry. Iapologize."

She had drawn off her gloves, and one little hand, brown, shapely,rested upon her knee very near to me. I took it in mine. She let itstay, though she looked away from me, the color rich in her cheeks.

"I can forgive that," she murmured. "But the lie. Jealousy doesn'texcuse a lie."

"You mean—what I intimated to your cousin," I said, trying tomake her look at me. "That was the devil in me. Only it's true."

"How can it be true when you never asked—said a word—youhinted of?" she queried. "Diane believed what you said. I know shethinks me horrid."

"No she doesn't. As for what I said, or meant to say, which is thesame thing, how'd you take my actions? I hope not the same as you takeWright's or the other fellow's."

Sally was silent, a little pale now, and I saw that I did not needto say any more about the other fellows. The change, the difference wasnow marked. It drove me to give in wholly to this earnest andpassionate side of myself.

"Sally, I do love you. I don't know how you took my actions. Anyway,now I'll make them plain. I was beside myself with love and jealousy.Will you marry me?"

She did not answer. But the old willful Sally was not in evidence.Watching her face I gave her a slow and gentle pull, one she couldeasily resist if she cared to, and she slipped from her saddle into myarms.

Then there was one wildly sweet moment in which I had the blissfulcertainty that she kissed me of her own accord. She was abashed, yetyielding; she let herself go, yet seemed not utterly unstrung. PerhapsI was rough, held her too hard, for she cried out a little.

"Russ! Let me go. Help me—back."

I righted her in the saddle, although not entirely releasingher.

"But, Sally, you haven't told me anything," I remonstrated tenderly."Do you love me?"

"I think so," she whispered.

"Sally, will you marry me?"

She disengaged herself then, sat erect and faced away from me, withher breast heaving.

"No, Russ," she presently said, once more calm.

"But Sally—if you love me—" I burst out, and thenstopped, stilled by something in her face.

"I can't help—loving you, Russ," she said. "But to promise tomarry you, that's different. Why, Russ, I know nothing about you, noteven your last name. You're not a—a steady fellow. You drink,gamble, fight. You'll kill somebody yet. Then I'llnot love you.Besides, I've always felt you're not just what you seemed. I can'ttrust you. There's something wrong about you."

I knew my face darkened, and perhaps hope and happiness died in it.Swiftly she placed a kind hand on my shoulder.

"Now, I've hurt you. Oh, I'm sorry. Your asking me makes such adifference.They are not in earnest. But, Russ, I had to tellyou why I couldn't be engaged to you."

"I'm not good enough for you. I'd no right to ask you to marry me,"I replied abjectly.

"Russ, don't think me proud," she faltered. "I wouldn't care who youwere if I could only—only respect you. Some things about you aresplendid, you're such a man, that's why I cared. But you gamble. Youdrink—and Ihate that. You're dangerous they say, and I'dbe, Iam in constant dread you'll kill somebody. Remember, Russ,I'm no Texan."

This regret of Sally's, this faltering distress at giving me pain,was such sweet assurance that she did love me, better than she knew,that I was divided between extremes of emotion.

"Will you wait? Will you trust me a little? Will you give me achance? After all, maybe I'm not so bad as I seem."

"Oh, if you weren't! Russ, are you asking me to trust you?"

"I beg you to—dearest. Trust me and wait."

"Wait? What for? Are you really on the square, Russ? Or are you whatGeorge calls you—a drunken cowboy, a gambler, sharp with thecards, a gun-fighter?"

My face grew cold as I felt the blood leave it. At that momentmention of George Wright fixed once for all my hate of him.

Bitter indeed was it that I dared not give him the lie. But whatcould I do? The character Wright gave me was scarcely worse than what Ihad chosen to represent. I had to acknowledge the justice of his claim,but nevertheless I hated him.

"Sally, I ask you to trust me in spite of my reputation."

"You ask me a great deal," she replied.

"Yes, it's too much. Let it be then only this—you'll wait. Andwhile you wait, promise not to flirt with Wright and Waters."

"Russ, I'll not let George or any of them so much as dare touch me,"she declared in girlish earnestness, her voice rising. "I'll promise ifyou'll promise me not to go into those saloons any more."

One word would have brought her into my arms for good and all. Thebetter side of Sally Langdon showed then in her appeal. That appeal wasas strong as the drawing power of her little face, all eloquent withits light, and eyes dark with tears, and lips wanting to smile.

My response should have been instant. How I yearned to give it andwin the reward I imagined I saw on her tremulous lips! But I was bound.The grim, dark nature of my enterprise there in Linrock returned tostultify my eagerness, dispel my illusion, shatter my dream.

For one instant it flashed through my mind to tell Sally who I was,what my errand was, after the truth. But the secret was not mine totell. And I kept my pledges.

The hopeful glow left Sally's face. Her disappointment seemed keen.Then a little scorn of certainty was the bitterest of all for me tobear.

"That's too much to promise all at once," I protested lamely, and Iknew I would have done better to keep silence.

"Russ, a promise like that is nothing—if a man loves a girl,"she retorted. "Don't make any more love to me, please, unless you wantme to laugh at you. And don't feel such terrible trouble if you happento see me flirting occasionally."

She ended with a little mocking laugh. That was the perverse side ofher, the cat using her claws. I tried not to be angry, but failed.

"All right. I'll take my medicine," I replied bitterly. "I'llcertainly never make love to you again. And I'll stand it if I happento see Waters kiss you, or any other decent fellow. But look out howyou let that damned backbiter Wright fool around you!"

I spoke to her as I had never spoken before, in quick, fiercemeaning, with eyes holding hers.

She paled. But even my scarce-veiled hint did not chill her anger.Tossing her head she wheeled and rode away.

I followed at a little distance, and thus we traveled the ten milesback to the ranch. When we reached the corrals she dismounted and,turning her horse over to Dick, she went off toward the house withoutso much as a nod or good-by to me.

I went down to town for once in a mood to live up to what had beenheretofore only a sham character.

But turning a corner into the main street I instantly forgot myselfat the sight of a crowd congregated before the town hall. There was ababel of voices and an air of excitement that I immediately associatedwith Sampson, who as mayor of Linrock, once in a month of moons heldcourt in this hall.

It took slipping and elbowing to get through the crowd. Once insidethe door I saw that the crowd was mostly outside, and evidently not sodesirous as I was to enter.

The first man I saw was Steele looming up; the next was Sampsonchewing his mustache—the third, Wright, whose dark and sinisterface told much. Something was up in Linrock. Steele had opened thehall.

There were other men in the hall, a dozen or more, and all seemedshouting excitedly in unison with the crowd outside. I did not try tohear what was said. I edged closer in, among the men to the front.

Sampson sat at a table up on a platform. Near him sat a thick-setgrizzled man, with deep eyes; and this was Hanford Owens, countyjudge.

To the right stood a tall, angular, yellow-faced fellow with adrooping, sandy mustache. Conspicuous on his vest was a huge silvershield. This was Gorsech, one of Sampson's sheriffs.

There were four other men whom I knew, several whose faces werefamiliar, and half a dozen strangers, all dusty horsemen.

Steele stood apart from them, a little to one side, so that he facedthem all. His hair was disheveled, and his shirt open at the neck. Helooked cool and hard.

When I caught his eye I realized in an instant that the longdeferred action, the beginning of our real fight was at hand.

Sampson pounded hard on the table to be heard. Mayor or not, he wasunable at once to quell the excitement.

Gradually, however, it subsided and from the last few utterancesbefore quiet was restored I gathered that Steele had intruded upon somekind of a meeting in the hall.

"Steele, what'd you break in here for?" demanded Sampson.

"Isn't this court? Aren't you the mayor of Linrock?" interrogatedSteele. His voice was so clear and loud, almost piercing, that I saw atonce that he wanted all those outside to hear.

"Yes," replied Sampson. Like flint he seemed, yet I felt his intenseinterest.

I had no doubt then that Steele intended to make him stand outbefore this crowd as the real mayor of Linrock or as a man whose officewas a sham.

"I've arrested a criminal," said Steele. "Bud Snell. I charge himwith assault on Jim Hoden and attempted robbery—if not murder.Snell had a shady past here, as the court will know if it keeps arecord."

Then I saw Snell hunching down on a bench, a nerveless and shakenman if there ever was one. He had been a hanger-on round the gamblingdens, the kind of sneak I never turned my back to.

Jim Hoden, the restaurant keeper, was present also, and on secondglance I saw that he was pale. There was blood on his face. I knew Jim,liked him, had tried to make a friend of him.

I was not dead to the stinging interrogation in the concludingsentence of Steele's speech. Then I felt sure I had correctly judgedSteele's motive. I began to warm to the situation.

"What's this I hear about you, Bud? Get up and speak for yourself,"said Sampson, gruffly.

Snell got up, not without a furtive glance at Steele, and he hadshuffled forward a few steps toward the mayor. He had an evil front,but not the boldness even of a rustler.

"It ain't so, Sampson," he began loudly. "I went in Hoden's placefer grub. Some feller I never seen before come in from the hall an' hithim an' wrastled him on the floor. Then this big Ranger grabbed me an'fetched me here. I didn't do nothin'. This Ranger's hankerin' to arrestsomebody. Thet's my hunch, Sampson."

"What have you to say about this, Hoden?" sharply queried Sampson."I call to your mind the fact that you once testified falsely in court,and got punished for it."

Why did my sharpened and experienced wits interpret a hint of threator menace in Sampson's reminder? Hoden rose from the bench and with anunsteady hand reached down to support himself.

He was no longer young, and he seemed broken in health and spirit.He had been hurt somewhat about the head.

"I haven't much to say," he replied. "The Ranger dragged me here. Itold him I didn't take my troubles to court. Besides, I can't swear itwas Snell who hit me."

Sampson said something in an undertone to Judge Owens, and thatworthy nodded his great, bushy head.

"Bud, you're discharged," said Sampson bluntly. "Now, the rest ofyou clear out of here."

He absolutely ignored the Ranger. That was his rebuff to Steele'sadvances, his slap in the face to an interfering Ranger Service.

If Sampson was crooked he certainly had magnificent nerve. I almostdecided he was above suspicion. But his nonchalance, his air offinality, his authoritative assurance—these to my keen andpracticed eyes were in significant contrast to a certain tenseness ofline about his mouth and a slow paling of his olive skin.

He had crossed the path of Vaughn Steele; he had blocked the way ofthis Texas Ranger. If he had intelligence and remembered Steele's fame,which surely he had, then he had some appreciation of what he hadundertaken.

In that momentary lull my scrutiny of Sampson gathered an impressionof the man's intense curiosity.

Then Bud Snell, with a cough that broke the silence, shuffled acouple of steps toward the door.

"Hold on!" called Steele.

It was a bugle-call. It halted Snell as if it had been a bullet. Heseemed to shrink.

"Sampson, Isaw Snell attack Hoden," said Steele, his voicestill ringing. "What has the court to say to that?"

The moment for open rupture between Ranger Service and Sampson'sidea of law was at hand. Sampson showed not the slightesthesitation.

"The court has to say this: West of the Pecos we'll not aid or abetor accept any Ranger Service. Steele, we don't want you out here.Linrock doesn't need you."

"That's a lie, Sampson," retorted Steele. "I've a pocket full ofletters from Linrock citizens, all begging for Ranger Service."

Sampson turned white. The veins corded at his temples. He appearedabout to burst into rage. He was at a loss for a quick reply.

Steele shook a long arm at the mayor.

"I need your help. You refuse. Now, I'll work alone. This man Snellgoes to Del Rio in irons."

George Wright rushed up to the table. The blood showed black andthick in his face; his utterance was incoherent, his uncontrollableoutbreak of temper seemed out of all proportion to any cause he shouldreasonably have had for anger.

Sampson shoved him back with a curse and warning glare.

"Where's your warrant to arrest Snell?" shouted Sampson. "I won'tgive you one. You can't take him without a warrant."

"I don't need warrants to make arrests. Sampson, you're ignorant ofthe power of Texas Rangers."

"You'll take Snell without papers?" bellowed Sampson.

"He goes to Del Rio to jail," answered Steele.

"He won't. You'll pull none of your damned Ranger stunts out here.I'll block you, Steele."

That passionate reply of Sampson's appeared to be the signal Steelehad been waiting for.

He had helped on the crisis. I believed I saw how he wanted to forceSampson's hand and show the town his stand.

Steele backed clear of everybody and like two swift flashes of lighthis guns leaped forth. He was transformed. My wish was fulfilled.

Here was Steele, the Ranger, in one of his lone lion stands. Notexactly alone either, for my hands itched for my guns!

"Men! I call on you all!" cried Steele, piercingly. "I call on youto witness the arrest of a criminal opposed by Sampson, mayor ofLinrock. It will be recorded in the report sent to the Adjutant Generalat Austin. Sampson, I warn you—don't follow up your threat."

Sampson sat white with working jaw.

"Snell, come here," ordered Steele.

The man went as if drawn and appeared to slink out of line with theguns. Steele's cold gray glance held every eye in the hall.

"Take the handcuffs out of my pocket. This side. Go over to Gorsechwith them. Gorsech, snap those irons on Snell's wrists. Now, Snell,back here to the right of me."

It was no wonder to me to see how instantly Steele was obeyed. Hemight have seen more danger in that moment than was manifest to me; onthe other hand he might have wanted to drive home hard what hemeant.

It was a critical moment for those who opposed him. There was deathin the balance.

This Ranger, whose last resort was gun-play, had instantly taken theinitiative, and his nerve chilled even me. Perhaps though, he read thiscrowd differently from me and saw that intimidation was his cue. Iforgot I was not a spectator, but an ally.

"Sampson, you've shown your hand," said Steele, in the deep voicethat carried so far and held those who heard. "Any honest citizen ofLinrock can now see what's plain—yours is a damn poor hand!

"You're going to hear me call a spade a spade. Your office is afarce. In the two years you've been mayor you've never arrested onerustler. Strange, when Linrock's a nest for rustlers! You've never senta prisoner to Del Rio, let alone to Austin. You have no jail.

"There have been nine murders since you took office, innumerablestreet fights and hold-ups.Not one arrest! But you have orderedarrests for trivial offenses, and have punished these out of allproportion.

"There have been law-suits in your court—suits over waterrights, cattle deals, property lines. Strange how in these law-suits,you or Wright or other men close to you were always involved! Strangerhow it seems the law was stretched to favor your interests!"

Steele paused in his cold, ringing speech. In the silence, bothoutside and inside the hall, could be heard the deep breathing ofagitated men.

I would have liked to search for possible satisfaction on the facesof any present, but I was concerned only with Sampson. I did not needto fear that any man might draw on Steele.

Never had I seen a crowd so sold, so stiff, so held! Sampson wasindeed a study. Yet did he betray anything but rage at thisinterloper?

"Sampson, here's plain talk for you and Linrock to digest," went onSteele. "I don't accuse you and your court of dishonesty. Isay—strange! Law here has been a farce. The motive behindall this laxity isn't plain to me—yet. But I call your hand!"

Chapter 3

SOUNDING THE TIMBER

When Steele left the hall, pushing Snell before him, making a lanethrough the crowd, it was not any longer possible to watcheverybody.

Yet now he seemed to ignore the men behind him. Any friend ofSnell's among the vicious element might have pulled a gun. I wonderedif Steele knew how I watched those men at his back—how fatal itwould have been for any of them to make a significant move.

No—I decided that Steele trusted to the effect his boldnesshad created. It was this power to cow ordinary men that explained somany of his feats; just the same it was his keenness to read desperatemen, his nerve to confront them, that made him great.

The crowd followed Steele and his captive down the middle of themain street and watched him secure a team and buckboard and drive offon the road to Sanderson.

Only then did that crowd appear to realize what had happened. Thenmy long-looked-for opportunity arrived. In the expression of silent menI found something which I had sought; from the hurried departure ofothers homeward I gathered import; on the husky, whispering lips of yetothers I read words I needed to hear.

The other part of that crowd—to my surprise, the smallerpart—was the roaring, threatening, complaining one.

Thus I segregated Linrock that was lawless from Linrock that wantedlaw, but for some reason not yet clear the latter did not dare to voicetheir choice.

How could Steele and I win them openly to our cause? If that couldbe done long before the year was up Linrock would be free of violenceand Captain Neal's Ranger Service saved to the State.

I went from place to place, corner to corner, bar to bar, watching,listening, recording; and not until long after sunset did I go out tothe ranch.

The excitement had preceded me and speculation was rife. Hurryingthrough my supper, to get away from questions and to go on with myspying, I went out to the front of the house.

The evening was warm; the doors were open; and in the twilight theonly lamps that had been lit were in Sampson's big sitting room at thefar end of the house. Neither Sampson nor Wright had come home tosupper.

I would have given much to hear their talk right then, and certainlyintended to try to hear it when they did come home.

When the buckboard drove up and they alighted I was well hidden inthe bushes, so well screened that I could get but a fleeting glimpse ofSampson as he went in.

For all I could see, he appeared to be a calm and quiet man, intensebeneath the surface, with an air of dignity under insult. My chance toobserve Wright was lost.

They went into the house without speaking, and closed the door.

At the other end of the porch, close under a window, was an offsetbetween step and wall, and there in the shadow I hid. If Sampson orWright visited the girls that evening I wanted to hear what was saidabout Steele.

It seemed to me that it might be a good clue for me—thecircumstance whether or not Diane Sampson was told the truth. So Iwaited there in the darkness with patience born of many hours of likeduty.

Presently the small lamp was lit—I could tell the differencein light when the big one was burning—and I heard the swish ofskirts.

"Something's happened, surely, Sally," I heard Miss Sampson sayanxiously. "Papa just met me in the hall and didn't speak. He seemedpale, worried."

"Cousin George looked like a thundercloud," said Sally. "For once,he didn't try to kiss me. Something's happened. Well, Diane, this hasbeen a bad day for me, too."

Plainly I heard Sally's sigh, and the little pathetic sound broughtme vividly out of my sordid business of suspicion and speculation. Soshe was sorry.

"Bad for you, too?" replied Diane in amused surprise. "Oh, Isee—I forgot. You and Russ had it out."

"Out? We fought like the very old deuce. I'll never speak to himagain."

"So your little—affair with Russ is all over?"

"Yes." Here she sighed again.

"Well, Sally, it began swiftly and it's just as well short," saidDiane earnestly. "We know nothing at all of Russ."

"Diane, after to-day I respect him in—in spite ofthings—even though he seems no good. I—I cared a lot,too."

"My dear, your loves are like the summer flowers. I thought maybeyour flirting with Russ might amount to something. Yet he seems sodifferent now from what he was at first. It's only occasionally I getthe impression I had of him after that night he saved me from violence.He's strange. Perhaps it all comes of his infatuation for you. He is inlove with you. I'm afraid of what may come of it."

"Diane, he'll do something dreadful to George, mark my words,"whispered Sally. "He swore he would if George fooled around me anymore."

"Oh, dear. Sally, what can we do? These are wild men. George makeslife miserable for me. And he teases you unmer..."

"I don't call it teasing. George wants to spoon," declared Sallyemphatically. "He'd run after any woman."

"A fine compliment to me, Cousin Sally," laughed Diane.

"I don't agree," replied Sally stubbornly. "It's so. He's spoony.And when he's been drinking and tries to kiss me, I hate him."

"Sally, you look as if you'd rather like Russ to do somethingdreadful to George," said Diane with a laugh that this time was onlyhalf mirth.

"Half of me would and half of me would not," returned Sally. "Butall of me would if I weren't afraid of Russ. I've got a feeling—Idon't know what—something will happen between George and Russsome day."

There were quick steps on the hall floor, steps I thought Irecognized.

"Hello, girls!" sounded out Wright's voice, minus its usual gaiety.Then ensued a pause that made me bring to mind a picture of Wright'sglum face.

"George, what's the matter?" asked Diane presently. "I never sawpapa as he is to-night, nor you so—so worried. Tell me, what hashappened?"

"Well, Diane, we had a jar to-day," replied Wright, with a blunt,expressive laugh.

"Jar?" echoed both the girls curiously.

"Jar? We had to submit to a damnable outrage," added Wrightpassionately, as if the sound of his voice augmented his feeling."Listen, girls. I'll tell you all about it."

He coughed, clearing his throat in a way that betrayed he had beendrinking.

I sunk deeper in the shadow of my covert, and stiffening my musclesfor a protracted spell of rigidity, prepared to listen with allacuteness and intensity.

Just one word from this Wright, inadvertently uttered in a moment ofpassion, might be the word Steele needed for his clue.

"It happened at the town hall," began Wright rapidly. "Your fatherand Judge Owens and I were there in consultation with three ranchersfrom out of town. First we were disturbed by gunshots from somewhere,but not close at hand. Then we heard the loud voices outside.

"A crowd was coming down street. It stopped before the hall. Mencame running in, yelling. We thought there was a fire. Then thatRanger, Steele, stalked in, dragging a fellow by the name of Snell. Wecouldn't tell what was wanted because of the uproar. Finally yourfather restored order.

"Steele had arrested Snell for alleged assault on a restaurantkeeper named Hoden. It developed that Hoden didn't accuse anybody,didn't know who attacked him. Snell, being obviously innocent, wasdischarged. Then this—this gun fighting Ranger pulled his guns onthe court and halted the proceedings."

When Wright paused I plainly heard his intake of breath. Far indeedwas he from calm.

"Steele held everybody in that hall in fear of death, and he beganshouting his insults. Law was a farce in Linrock. The court was afarce. There was no law. Your father's office as mayor should beimpeached. He made arrests only for petty offenses. He was afraid ofthe rustlers, highwaymen, murderers. He was afraid or—he just letthem alone. He used his office to cheat ranchers and cattlemen inlaw-suits.

"All of this Steele yelled for everyone to hear. A damnable outrage!Your father, Diane, insulted in his own court by a rowdy Ranger! Notonly insulted, but threatened with death—two big guns thrustalmost in his face!"

"Oh! How horrible!" cried Diane, in mingled distress and anger.

"Steele's a Ranger. The Ranger Service wants to rule western Texas,"went on Wright. "These Rangers are all a low set, many of them worsethan the outlaws they hunt. Some of them were outlaws and gun fightersbefore they became Rangers.

"This Steele is one of the worst of the lot. He's keen, intelligent,smooth, and that makes him more to be feared. For he is to be feared.He wanted to kill. He meant to kill. If your father had made the leastmove Steele would have shot him. He's a cold-nerved devil—theborn gunman. My God, any instant I expected to see your father falldead at my feet!"

"Oh, George! The—the unspeakable ruffian!" cried Diane,passionately.

"You see, Diane, this fellow Steele has failed here in Linrock. He'sbeen here weeks and done nothing. He must have got desperate. He'sinfamous and he loves his name. He seeks notoriety. He made that playwith Snell just for a chance to rant against your father. He tried toinflame all Linrock against him. That about law-suits was the worst!Damn him! He'll make us enemies."

"What do you care for the insinuations of such a man?" said DianeSampson, her voice now deep and rich with feeling. "After a moment'sthought no one will be influenced by them. Do not worry, George, tellpapa not to worry. Surely after all these years he can't be injured inreputation by—by an adventurer."

"Yes, he can be injured," replied George quickly. "The frontier is aqueer place. There are many bitter men here, men who have failed atranching. And your father has been wonderfully successful. Steele hasdropped some poison, and it'll spread."

Then followed a silence, during which, evidently, the worried Wrightbestrode the floor.

"Cousin George, what became of Steele and his prisoner?" suddenlyasked Sally.

How like her it was, with her inquisitive bent of mind and shiftingpoints of view, to ask a question the answering of which would be galland wormwood to Wright!

It amused while it thrilled me. Sally might be a flirt, but she wasno fool.

"What became of them? Ha! Steele bluffed the whole town—atleast all of it who had heard the mayor's order to discharge Snell,"growled Wright. "He took Snell—rode off for Del Rio to jailhim."

"George!" exclaimed Diane. "Then, after all, this Ranger was able toarrest Snell, the innocent man father discharged, and take him tojail?"

"Exactly. That's the toughest part...." Wright ended abruptly, andthen broke out fiercely: "But, by God, he'll never come back!"

Wright's slow pacing quickened and he strode from the parlor,leaving behind him a silence eloquent of the effect of his sinisterprediction.

"Sally, what did he mean?" asked Diane in a low voice.

"Steele will be killed," replied Sally, just as low-voiced.

"Killed! That magnificent fellow! Ah, I forgot. Sally, my wits aresadly mixed. I ought to be glad if somebody kills my father's defamer.But, oh, I can't be!

"This bloody frontier makes me sick. Papa doesn't want me to stayfor good. And no wonder. Shall I go back? I hate to show a whitefeather.

"Do you know, Sally, I was—a little taken with this TexasRanger. Miserably, I confess. He seemed so like in spirit to the grandstature of him. How can so splendid a man be so bloody, base at heart?It's hideous. How little we know of men! I had my dream about VaughnSteele. I confess because it shames me—because I hatemyself!"

Next morning I awakened with a feeling that I was more like my oldself. In the experience of activity of body and mind, with a prospectthat this was merely the forerunner of great events, I came round to myown again.

Sally was not forgotten; she had just become a sorrow. So perhaps mydownfall as a lover was a precursor of better results as anofficer.

I held in abeyance my last conclusion regarding Sampson and Wright,and only awaited Steele's return to have fixed in mind what these menwere.

Wright's remark about Steele not returning did not worry me. I hadheard many such dark sayings in reference to Rangers.

Rangers had a trick of coming back. I did not see any man or men onthe present horizon of Linrock equal to the killing of Steele.

As Miss Sampson and Sally had no inclination to ride, I had evenmore freedom. I went down to the town and burst, cheerily whistling,into Jim Hoden's place.

Jim always made me welcome there, as much for my society as for themoney I spent, and I never neglected being free with both. I bought ahandful of cigars and shoved some of them in his pocket.

"How's tricks, Jim?" I asked cheerily.

"Reckon I'm feelin' as well as could be expected," replied Jim. Hishead was circled by a bandage that did not conceal the lump where hehad been struck. Jim looked a little pale, but he was brightenough.

"That was a hell of a biff Snell gave you, the skunk," I remarkedwith the same cheery assurance.

"Russ, I ain't accusin' Snell," remonstrated Jim with eyes that mademe thoughtful.

"Sure, I know you're too good a sport to send a fellow up. But Snelldeserved what he got. I saw his face when he made his talk to Sampson'scourt. Snell lied. And I'll tell you what, Jim, if it'd been me insteadof that Ranger, Bud Snell would have got settled."

Jim appeared to be agitated by my forcible intimation offriendship.

"Jim, that's between ourselves," I went on. "I'm no fool. And muchas I blab when I'm hunky, it's all air. Maybe you've noticed that aboutme. In some parts of Texas it's policy to be close-mouthed. Policy andhealthy. Between ourselves, as friends, I want you to know I lean someon Steele's side of the fence."

As I lighted a cigar I saw, out of the corner of my eye, how Hodengave a quick start. I expected some kind of a startling idea to flashinto his mind.

Presently I turned and frankly met his gaze. I had startled him outof his habitual set taciturnity, but even as I looked the light thatmight have been amaze and joy faded out of his face, leaving it thesame old mask.

Still I had seen enough. Like a bloodhound, I had a scent. "Thet'sfunny, Russ, seein' as you drift with the gang Steele's bound tofight," remarked Hoden.

"Sure. I'm a sport. If I can't gamble with gentlemen I'll gamblewith rustlers."

Again he gave a slight start, and this time he hid his eyes.

"Wal, Russ, I've heard you was slick," he said.

"You tumble, Jim. I'm a little better on the draw."

"On the draw? With cards, an' gun, too, eh?"

"Now, Jim, that last follows natural. I haven't had much chance toshow how good I am on the draw with a gun. But that'll come soon."

"Reckon thet talk's a little air," said Hoden with his dry laugh."Same as you leanin' a little on the Ranger's side of the fence."

"But, Jim, wasn't he game? What'd you think of that stand? Bluffedthe whole gang! The way he called Sampson—why, it was great! Thejustice of that call doesn't bother me. It was Steele's nerve that gotme. That'd warm any man's blood."

There was a little red in Hoden's pale cheeks and I saw him swallowhard. I had struck deep again.

"Say, don't you work for Sampson?" he queried.

"Me? Iguess not. I'm Miss Sampson's man. He and Wright havetried to fire me many a time."

"Thet so?" he said curiously. "What for?"

"Too many silver trimmings on me, Jim. And I pack my gun lowdown."

"Wal, them two don't go much together out here," replied Hoden. "ButI ain't seen thet anyone has shot off the trimmin's."

"Maybe it'll commence, Jim, as soon as I stop buying drinks. Talkingabout work—who'd you say Snell worked for?"

"I didn't say."

"Well, say so now, can't you? Jim, you're powerful peevish to-day.It's the bump on your head. Who does Snell work for?"

"When he works at all, which sure ain't often, he rides forSampson."

"Humph! Seems to me, Jim, that Sampson's the whole circus roundLinrock. I was some sore the other day to find I was losing good moneyat Sampson's faro game. Sure if I'd won I wouldn't have been sorry, eh?But I was surprised to hear some scully say Sampson owned the Hope Sodive."

"I've heard he owned considerable property hereabouts," replied Jimconstrainedly.

"Humph again! Why, Jim, youknow it, only like every otherscully you meet in this town, you're afraid to open your mug aboutSampson. Get me straight, Jim Hoden. I don't care a damn for ColonelMayor Sampson. And for cause I'd throw a gun on him just as quick as onany rustler in Pecos."

"Talk's cheap, my boy," replied Hoden, making light of my bluster,but the red was deep in his face.

"Sure, I know that," I said, calming down. "My temper gets up, Jim.Then it's not well known that Sampson owns the Hope So?"

"Reckon it's known in Pecos, all right. But Sampson's name isn'tconnected with the Hope So. Blandy runs the place."

"That Blandy—I've got no use for him. His faro game's crooked,or I'm locoed bronc. Not that we don't have lots of crooked farodealers. A fellow can stand for them. But Blandy's mean, back handed,never looks you in the eyes. That Hope So place ought to be run by agood fellow like you, Hoden."

"Thanks, Russ," replied he, and I imagined his voice a little husky."Didn't you ever hearI used to run it?"

"No. Did you?" I said quickly.

"I reckon. I built the place, made additions twice, owned it foreleven years."

"Well, I'll be doggoned!"

It was indeed my turn to be surprised, and with the surprise cameglimmering.

"I'm sorry you're not there now, Jim. Did you sell out?"

"No. Just lost the place."

Hoden was bursting for relief now—to talk—to tell.Sympathy had made him soft. I did not need to ask another question.

"It was two years ago—two years last March," he went on. "Iwas in a big cattle deal with Sampson. We got the stock, an' my share,eighteen hundred head, was rustled off. I owed Sampson. He pressed me.It come to a lawsuit, an' I—was ruined."

It hurt me to look at Hoden. He was white, and tears rolled down hischeeks.

I saw the bitterness, the defeat, the agony of the man. He hadfailed to meet his obligation; nevertheless he had been swindled.

All that he suppressed, all that would have been passion had theman's spirit not been broken, lay bare for me to see. I had now thesecret of his bitterness.

But the reason he did not openly accuse Sampson, the secret of hisreticence and fear—these I thought best to try to learn at somelater time, after I had consulted with Steele.

"Hard luck! Jim, it certainly was tough," I said. "But you're a goodloser. And the wheel turns!

"Now, Jim, here's what I come particular to see you for. I need youradvice. I've got a little money. Between you and me, as friends, I'vebeen adding some to that roll all the time. But before I lose it I wantto invest some. Buy some stock or buy an interest in some rancher'sherd.

"What I want you to steer me on is a good, square rancher. Or maybea couple of ranchers if there happen to be two honest ones in Pecos.Eh? No deals with ranchers who ride in the dark with rustlers! I've ahunch Linrock's full of them.

"Now, Jim, you've been here for years. So you must know a couple ofmen above suspicion."

"Thank God I do, Russ," he replied feelingly. "Frank Morton an' SiZimmer, my friends an' neighbors all my prosperous days. An' friendsstill. You can gamble on Frank and Si. But Russ, if you want advicefrom me, don't invest money in stock now."

"Why?"

"Because any new feller buyin' stock in Pecos these days will berustled quicker'n he can say Jack Robinson. The pioneers, the newcattlemen—these are easy pickin'. But the new fellers have tolearn the ropes. They don't know anythin' or anybody. An' the oldranchers are wise an' sore. They'd fight if they...."

"What?" I put in as he paused. "If they knew who was rustling thestock?"

"Nope."

"If they had the nerve?"

"Not thet so much."

"What then? What'd make them fight?"

"A leader!"

I went out of Hoden's with that word ringing in my ears. A leader!In my mind's eye I saw a horde of dark faced, dusty-booted cattlemenriding grim and armed behind Vaughn Steele.

More thoughtful than usual, I walked on, passing some of my oldhaunts, and was about to turn in front of a feed and grain store when ahearty slap on my back disturbed my reflection.

"Howdy thar, cowboy," boomed a big voice.

It was Morton, the rancher whom Jim had mentioned, and whoseacquaintance I had made. He was a man of great bulk, with a ruddy,merry face.

"Hello, Morton. Let's have a drink," I replied.

"Gotta rustle home," he said. "Young feller, I've a ranch towork."

"Sell it to me, Morton."

He laughed and said he wished he could. His buckboard stood at therail, the horses stamping impatiently.

"Cards must be runnin' lucky," he went on, with another heartylaugh.

"Can't kick on the luck. But I'm afraid it will change. Morton, myfriend Hoden gave me a hunch you'd be a good man to tie to. Now, I've alittle money, and before I lose it I'd like to invest it in stock."

He smiled broadly, but for all his doubt of me he took definiteinterest.

"I'm not drunk, and I'm on the square," I said bluntly. "You'vetaken me for a no-good cow puncher without any brains. Wake up, Morton.If you never size up your neighbors any better than you haveme—well, you won't get any richer."

It was sheer enjoyment for me to make my remarks to these men,pregnant with meaning. Morton showed his pleasure, his interest, buthis faith held aloof.

"I've got some money. I had some. Then the cards have run lucky.Will you let me in on some kind of deal? Will you start me up as astockman, with a little herd all my own?"

"Russ, this's durn strange, comin' from Sampson's cowboy," hesaid.

"I'm not in his outfit. My job's with Miss Sampson. She's fine, butthe old man? Nit! He's been after me for weeks. I won't last long.That's one reason why I want to start up for myself."

"Hoden sent you to me, did he? Poor ol' Jim. Wal, Russ, to come outflat-footed, you'd be foolish to buy cattle now. I don't want to takeyour money an' see you lose out. Better go back across the Pecos wherethe rustlers ain't so strong. I haven't had more'n twenty-five-hundredhead of stock for ten years. The rustlers let me hang on to a breedin'herd. Kind of them, ain't it?"

"Sort of kind. All I hear is rustlers." I replied with impatience."You see, I haven't ever lived long in a rustler-run county. Who headsthe gang anyway?"

Frank Morton looked at me with a curiously-amused smile.

"I hear lots about Jack Blome and Snecker. Everybody calls them outand out bad. Do they head this mysterious gang?"

"Russ, I opine Blome an' Snecker parade themselves off boss rustlerssame as gun throwers. But thet's the love such men have for bein'thought hell. That's brains headin' the rustler gang hereabouts."

"Maybe Blome and Snecker are blinds. Savvy what I mean, Morton?Maybe there's more in the parade than just the fame of it."

Morton snapped his big jaw as if to shut in impulsive words.

"Look here, Morton. I'm not so young in years even if I am youngwest of the Pecos. I can figure ahead. It stands to reason, no matterhow damn strong these rustlers are, how hidden their work, howeverinvolved with supposedly honest men—they can't last."

"They come with the pioneers an' they'll last as long as thar's asingle steer left," he declared.

"Well, if you take that view of circumstances I just figure you asone of the rustlers!"

Morton looked as if he were about to brain me with the butt of hiswhip. His anger flashed by then as unworthy of him, and, somethingstriking him as funny, he boomed out a laugh.

"It's not so funny," I went on. "If you're going to pretend a yellowstreak, what else will I think?"

"Pretend?" he repeated.

"Sure. You can't fool me, Morton. I know men of nerve. And here inPecos they're not any different from those in other places. I say ifyou show anything like a lack of sand it's all bluff.

"By nature you've got nerve. There are a lot of men round Linrockwho're afraid of their shadows, afraid to be out after dark, afraid toopen their mouths. But you're not one.

"So, I say, if you claim these rustlers will last, you're pretendinglack of nerve just to help the popular idea along. For they can'tlast.

"Morton, I don't want to be a hard-riding cowboy all my days. Do youthink I'd let fear of a gang of rustlers stop me from going in businesswith a rancher? Nit! What you need out here in Pecos is some newblood—a few youngsters like me to get you old guys started. Savvywhat I mean?"

"Wal, I reckon I do," he replied, looking as if a storm had blownover him.

I gauged the hold the rustler gang had on Linrock by the difficultjob it was to stir this really courageous old cattleman. He had grownup with the evil. To him it must have been a necessary one, the same asdry seasons and cyclones.

"Russ, I'll look you up the next time I come to town," he saidsoberly.

We parted, and I, more than content with the meeting, retraced mysteps down street to the Hope So saloon.

Here I entered, bent on tasks as sincere as the ones just finished,but displeasing, because I had to mix with a low, profane set, tocultivate them, to drink occasionally despite my deftness at emptyingglasses on the floor, to gamble with them and strangers, always playingthe part of a flush and flashy cowboy, half drunk, ready to laugh orfight.

On the night of the fifth day after Steele's departure, I went, aswas my habit, to the rendezvous we maintained at the pile of rocks outin the open.

The night was clear, bright starlight, without any moon, and forthis latter fact safer to be abroad. Often from my covert I had seendark figures skulking in and out of Linrock.

It would have been interesting to hold up these mysterioustravelers; so far, however, this had not been our game. I had enough tokeep my own tracks hidden, and my own comings and goings.

I liked to be out in the night, with the darkness close down to theearth, and the feeling of a limitless open all around. Not only did Ilisten for Steele's soft step, but for any sound—the yelp ofcoyote or mourn of wolf, the creak of wind in the dead brush, thedistant clatter of hoofs, a woman's singing voice faint from thetown.

This time, just when I was about to give up for that evening, Steelecame looming like a black giant long before I heard his soft step. Itwas good to feel his grip, even if it hurt, because after five days Ihad begun to worry.

"Well, old boy, how's tricks?" he asked easily.

"Well, old man, did you land that son of a gun in jail?"

"You bet I did. And he'll stay there for a while. Del Rio ratherliked the idea, Russ. All right there. I side-stepped Sanderson on theway back. But over here at the little village—Sampson they callit—I was held up. Couldn't help it, because there wasn't any roadaround."

"Held up?" I queried.

"That's it, the buckboard was held up. I got into the brush in timeto save my bacon. They began to shoot too soon."

"Did you get any of them?"

"Didn't stay to see," he chuckled. "Had to hoof it to Linrock, andit's a good long walk."

"Been to your 'dobe yet to-night?"

"I slipped in at the back. Russ, it bothered me some to make sure noone was laying for me in the dark."

"You'll have to get a safer place. Why not take to the open everynight?"

"Russ, that's well enough on a trail. But I need grub, and I've gotto have a few comforts. I'll risk the 'dobe yet a little."

Then I narrated all that I had seen and done and heard during hisabsence, holding back one thing. What I did tell him sobered him atonce, brought the quiet, somber mood, the thoughtful air.

"So that's all. Well, it's enough."

"All pertaining to our job, Vaughn," I replied. "The rest issentiment, perhaps. I had a pretty bad case of moons over the littleLangdon girl. But we quarreled. And it's ended now. Just as well, too,because if she'd...."

"Russ, did you honestly care for her? The real thing, I mean?"

"I—I'm afraid so. I'm sort of hurt inside. But, hell! There'sone thing sure, a love affair might have hindered me, made me soft. I'mglad it's over."

He said no more, but his big hand pressing on my knee told me of hissympathy, another indication that there was nothing wanting in thisRanger.

"The other thing concerns you," I went on, somehow reluctant now totell this. "You remember how I heard Wright making you out vile to MissSampson? Swore you'd never come back? Well, after he had gone, whenSally said he'd meant you'd be killed, Miss Sampson felt bad about it.She said she ought to be glad if someone killed you, but she couldn'tbe. She called you a bloody ruffian, yet she didn't want you shot.

"She said some things about the difference between your hideouscharacter and your splendid stature. Called you a magnificentfellow—that was it. Well, then she choked up and confessedsomething to Sally in shame and disgrace."

"Shame—disgrace?" echoed Steele, greatly interested."What?"

"She confessed she had been taken with you—had her littledream about you. And she hated herself for it."

Never, I thought, would I forget Vaughn Steele's eyes. It did notmatter that it was dark; I saw the fixed gleam, then the leaping,shadowy light.

"Did she say that?" His voice was not quite steady. "Wonderful! Evenif it only lasted a minute! She might—we might—If it wasn'tfor this hellish job! Russ, has it dawned on you yet, what I've got todo to Diane Sampson?"

"Yes," I replied. "Vaughn, you haven't gone sweet on her?"

What else could I make of that terrible thing in his eyes? He didnot reply to that at all. I thought my arm would break in hisclutch.

"You said you knew what I've got to do to Diane Sampson," herepeated hoarsely.

"Yes, you've got to ruin her happiness, if not her life."

"Why? Speak out, Russ. All this comes like a blow. There for alittle I hoped you had worked out things differently from me. No hope.Ruin her life! Why?"

I could explain this strange agitation in Steele in no other wayexcept that realization had brought keen suffering as incomprehensibleas it was painful. I could not tell if it came from suddenly divinedlove for Diane Sampson equally with a poignant conviction that his fatewas to wreck her. But I did see that he needed to speak out the brutaltruth.

"Steele, old man, you'll ruin Diane Sampson, because, as arrestlooks improbable to me, you'll have to kill her father."

"My God! Why, why? Say it!"

"Because Sampson is the leader of the Linrock gang of rustlers."

That night before we parted we had gone rather deeply into the planof action for the immediate future.

First I gave Steele my earnest counsel and then as stiff an argumentas I knew how to put up, all anent the absolute necessity of hiseternal vigilance. If he got shot in a fair encounter with hisenemies—well, that was a Ranger's risk and no disgrace. But to bemassacred in bed, knifed, in the dark, shot in the back, ambushed inany manner—not one of these miserable ends must be the lastrecord of Vaughn Steele.

He promised me in a way that made me wonder if he would ever sleepagain or turn his back on anyone—made me wonder too, at themenace in his voice. Steele seemed likely to be torn two ways, andalready there was a hint of future desperation.

It was agreed that I make cautious advances to Hoden and Morton, andwhen I could satisfy myself of their trustworthiness reveal my identityto them. Through this I was to cultivate Zimmer, and then otherranchers whom we should decide could be let into the secret.

It was not only imperative that we learn through them clues by whichwe might eventually fix guilt on the rustler gang, but also just asimperative that we develop a band of deputies to help us when the fightbegan.

Steele, now that he was back in Linrock, would have the center ofthe stage, with all eyes upon him. We agreed, moreover, that the bolderthe front now the better the chance of ultimate success. The more nervehe showed the less danger of being ambushed, the less peril in facingvicious men.

But we needed a jail. Prisoners had to be corraled after arrest, orthe work would be useless, almost a farce, and there was no possibilityof repeating trips to Del Rio.

We could not use an adobe house for a jail, because that could beeasily cut out of or torn down.

Finally I remembered an old stone house near the end of the mainstreet; it had one window and one door, and had been long in disuse.Steele would rent it, hire men to guard and feed his prisoners; and ifthese prisoners bribed or fought their way to freedom, that would notinjure the great principle for which he stood.

Both Steele and I simultaneously, from different angles ofreasoning, had arrived at a conviction of Sampson's guilt. It was notso strong as realization; rather a divination.

Long experience in detecting, in feeling the hidden guilt of men,had sharpened our senses for that particular thing. Steele acknowledgeda few mistakes in his day; but I, allowing for the same strength ofconviction, had never made a single mistake.

But conviction was one thing and proof vastly another. Furthermore,when proof was secured, then came the crowning task—that oftaking desperate men in a wild country they dominated.

Verily, Steele and I had our work cut out for us. However, we wereprepared to go at it with infinite patience and implacable resolve.Steele and I differed only in the driving incentive; of course, outsideof that one binding vow to save the Ranger Service.

He had a strange passion, almost an obsession, to represent the lawof Texas, and by so doing render something of safety and happiness tothe honest pioneers.

Beside Steele I knew I shrunk to a shadow. I was not exactly aheathen, and certainly I wanted to help harassed people, especiallywomen and children; but mainly with me it was the zest, the thrill, thehazard, the matching of wits—in a word, the adventure of thegame.

Next morning I rode with the young ladies. In the light of Sally'spersistently flagrant advances, to which I was apparently blind, I sawthat my hard-won victory over self was likely to be short-lived.

That possibility made me outwardly like ice. I was an attentive,careful, reliable, and respectful attendant, seeing to the safety of mycharges; but the one-time gay and debonair cowboy was a thing of thepast.

Sally, womanlike, had been a little—a verylittle—repentant; she had showed it, my indifference had piquedher; she had made advances and then my coldness had roused her spirit.She was the kind of girl to value most what she had lost, and to throwconsequences to the winds in winning it back.

When I divined this I saw my revenge. To be sure, when I thought ofit I had no reason to want revenge. She had been most gracious tome.

But there was the catty thing she had said about being kissed againby her admirers. Then, in all seriousness, sentiment aside, I dared notmake up with her.

So the cold and indifferent part I played was imperative.

We halted out on the ridge and dismounted for the usual little rest.Mine I took in the shade of a scrubby mesquite. The girls strolled awayout of sight. It was a drowsy day, and I nearly fell asleep.

Something aroused me—a patter of footsteps or a rustle ofskirts. Then a soft thud behind me gave me at once a start and athrill. First I saw Sally's little brown hands on my shoulders. Thenher head, with hair all shiny and flying and fragrant, came round overmy shoulder, softly smoothing my cheek, until her sweet, saucy, heatedface was right under my eyes.

"Russ, don't you love me any more?" she whispered.

Chapter 4

STEELE BREAKS UP THE PARTY

That night, I saw Steele at our meeting place, and we compared notesand pondered details of our problem.

Steele had rented the stone house to be used as a jail. While theblacksmith was putting up a door and window calculated to withstandmany onslaughts, all the idlers and strangers in town went to see thesight. Manifestly it was an occasion for Linrock. When Steele let it beknown that he wanted to hire a jailer and a guard this causticallyhumorous element offered itselfen masse. The men made a jokeout of it.

When Steele and I were about to separate I remembered a party thatwas to be given by Miss Sampson, and I told him about it. He shook hishead sadly, almost doubtfully.

Was it possible that Sampson could be a deep eyed, cunningscoundrel, the true leader of the cattle rustlers, yet keep thatbeautiful and innocent girl out on the frontier and let her giveparties to sons and daughters of a community he had robbed? To any butremorseless Rangers the idea was incredible.

Thursday evening came in spite of what the girls must have regardedas an interminably dragging day.

It was easy to differentiate their attitudes toward this party.Sally wanted to look beautiful, to excell all the young ladies who wereto attend, to attach to her train all the young men, and have themfighting to dance with her. Miss Sampson had an earnest desire to openher father's house to the people of Linrock, to show that a daughterhad come into his long cheerless home, to make the evening one ofpleasure and entertainment.

I happened to be present in the parlor, was carrying in some flowersfor final decoration, when Miss Sampson learned that her father hadjust ridden off with three horsemen whom Dick, who brought the news,had not recognized.

In her keen disappointment she scarcely heard Dick's concludingremark about the hurry of the colonel. My sharp ears, however, tookthis in and it was thought-provoking. Sampson was known to ride off atall hours, yet this incident seemed unusual.

At eight o'clock the house and porch and patio were ablaze withlights. Every lantern and lamp on the place, together with all thatcould be bought and borrowed, had been brought into requisition.

The cowboys arrived first, all dressed in their best, clean shaven,red faced, bright eyed, eager for the fun to commence. Then the youngpeople from town, and a good sprinkling of older people, came in asteady stream.

Miss Sampson received them graciously, excused her father's absence,and bade them be at home.

The music, or the discordance that went by that name, was furnishedby two cowboys with banjos and an antediluvian gentleman with a fiddle.Nevertheless, it was music that could be danced to, and there was nolack of enthusiasm.

I went from porch to parlor and thence to patio, watching andamused. The lights and the decorations of flowers, the bright dressesand the flashy scarfs of the cowboys furnished a gay enough scene to aman of lonesome and stern life like mine. During the dance there was asteady, continuous shuffling tramp of boots, and during the intervalfollowing a steady, low hum of merry talk and laughter.

My wandering from place to place, apart from my usual carefulobservation, was an unobtrusive but, to me, a sneaking pursuit of SallyLangdon.

She had on a white dress I had never seen with a low neck and shortsleeves, and she looked so sweet, so dainty, so altogether desirable,that I groaned a hundred times in my jealousy. Because, manifestly,Sally did not intend to run any risk of my not seeing her in her glory,no matter where my eyes looked.

A couple of times in promenading I passed her on the arm of someproud cowboy or gallant young buck from town, and on these occasionsshe favored her escort with a languishing glance that probably did asmuch damage to him as to me.

Presently she caught me red-handed in my careless, saunteringpursuit of her, and then, whether by intent or from indifference, sheapparently deigned me no more notice. But, quick to feel a differencein her, I marked that from that moment her gaiety gradually merged intocoquettishness, and soon into flirtation.

Then, just to see how far she would go, perhaps desperately hopingshe would make me hate her, I followed her shamelessly from patio toparlor, porch to court, even to the waltz.

To her credit, she always weakened when some young fellow got her ina corner and tried to push the flirting to extremes. Young Waters wasthe only one lucky enough to kiss her, and there was more of strengthin his conquest of her than any decent fellow could be proud of.

When George Wright sought Sally out there was added to my jealousy areal anxiety. I had brushed against Wright more than once that evening.He was not drunk, yet under the influence of liquor.

Sally, however, evidently did not discover that, because, knowingher abhorrence of drink, I believed she would not have walked out withhim had she known. Anyway, I followed them, close in the shadow.

Wright was unusually gay. I saw him put his arm around her withoutremonstrance. When the music recommenced they went back to the house.Wright danced with Sally, not ungracefully for a man who rode a horseas much as he. After the dance he waved aside Sally's many partners,not so gaily as would have been consistent with good feeling, and ledher away. I followed. They ended up that walk at the extreme corner ofthe patio, where, under gaily colored lights, a little arbor had beenmade among the flowers and vines.

Sally seemed to have lost something of her vivacity. They had notbeen out of my sight for a moment before Sally cried out. It was a cryof impatience or remonstrance, rather than alarm, but I decided that itwould serve me an excuse.

I dashed back, leaped to the door of the arbor, my hand on mygun.

Wright was holding Sally. When he heard me he let her go. Then sheuttered a cry that was one of alarm. Her face blanched; her eyes grewstrained. One hand went to her breast. She thought I meant to killWright.

"Excuse me," I burst out frankly, turning to Wright. I never saw ahyena, but he looked like one. "I heard a squeal. Thought a girl washurt, or something. Miss Sampson gave me orders to watch out foraccidents, fire, anything. So excuse me, Wright."

As I stepped back, to my amazement, Sally, excusing herself to thescowling Wright, hurriedly joined me.

"Oh, it's our dance, Russ!"

She took my arm and we walked through the patio.

"I'm afraid of him, Russ," she whispered. "You frightened me worsethough. You didn't mean to—to—"

"I made a bluff. Saw he'd been drinking, so I kept near you."

"You return good for evil," she replied, squeezing my arm. "Russ,let me tell you—whenever anything frightens me since we got hereI think of you. If you're only near I feel safe."

We paused at the door leading into the big parlor. Couples werepassing. Here I could scarcely distinguish the last words she said. Shestood before me, eyes downcast, face flushed, as sweet and pretty alass as man could want to see, and with her hand she twisted round andround a silver button on my buckskin vest.

"Dance with me, the rest of this," she said. "George shooed away mypartner. I'm glad for the chance. Dance with me, Russ—notgallantly or dutifully because I ask you, but because youwantto. Else not at all."

There was a limit to my endurance. There would hardly be anotherevening like this, at least, for me, in that country. I capitulatedwith what grace I could express.

We went into the parlor, and as we joined the dancers, despite allthat confusion I heard her whisper: "I've been a little beast toyou."

That dance seemingly lasted only a moment—a moment while shewas all airy grace, radiant, and alluring, floating close to me, withour hands clasped. Then it appeared the music had ceased, the coupleswere finding seats, and Sally and I were accosted by Miss Sampson.

She said we made a graceful couple in the dance. And Sally said shedid not have to reach up a mile to me—I was not so awfullytall.

And I, tongue-tied for once, said nothing.

Wright had returned and was now standing, cigarette between lips, inthe door leading out to the patio. At the same moment that I heard aheavy tramp of boots, from the porch side I saw Wright's face changeremarkably, expressing amaze, consternation, then fear.

I wheeled in time to see Vaughn Steele bend his head to enter thedoor on that side. The dancers fell back.

At sight of him I was again the Ranger, his ally. Steele was pale,yet heated. He panted. He wore no hat. He had his coat turned up andwith left hand he held the lapels together.

In a quick ensuing silence Miss Sampson rose, white as her dress.The young women present stared in astonishment and their partnersshowed excitement.

"Miss Sampson, I came to search your house!" panted Steele,courteously, yet with authority.

I disengaged myself from Sally, who was clinging to my hands, and Istepped forward out of the corner. Steele had been running. Why did hehold his coat like that? I sensed action, and the cold thrill animatedme.

Miss Sampson's astonishment was succeeded by anger difficult tocontrol.

"In the absence of my father I am mistress here. I will not permityou to search my house."

"Then I regret to say I must do so without your permission," he saidsternly.

"Do not dare!" she flashed. She stood erect, her bosom swelling, hereyes magnificently black with passion. "How dare you intrude here? Haveyou not insulted us enough? To search my house to-night—to breakup my party—oh, it's worse than outrage! Why on earth do you wantto search here? Ah, for the same reason you dragged a poor innocent maninto my father's court! Sir, I forbid you to take another step intothis house."

Steele's face was bloodless now, and I wondered if it had to do withher scathing scorn or something that he hid with his hand closing hiscoat that way.

"Miss Sampson, I don't need warrants to search houses," he said."But this time I'll respect your command. It would be too bad to spoilyour party. Let me add, perhaps you do me a little wrong. God knows Ihope so. I was shot by a rustler. He fled. I chased him here. He hastaken refuge here—in your father's house. He's hiddensomewhere."

Steele spread wide his coat lapels. He wore a light shirt, the colorof which in places was white. The rest was all a bloody mass from whichdark red drops fell to the floor.

"Oh!" cried Miss Sampson.

Scorn and passion vanished in the horror, the pity, of a woman whoimagined she saw a man mortally wounded. It was a hard sight for awoman's eyes, that crimson, heaving breast.

"Surely I didn't see that," went on Steele, closing his coat. "Youused unforgettable words, Miss Sampson. From you they hurt. For I standalone. My fight is to make Linrock safer, cleaner, a better home forwomen and children. Some day you will remember what you said."

How splendid he looked, how strong against odds. How simple adignity fitted his words. Why, a woman far blinder than Diane Sampsoncould have seen that here stood a man.

Steele bowed, turned on his heel, and strode out to vanish in thedark.

Then while she stood bewildered, still shocked, I elected to do somerapid thinking.

How seriously was Steele injured? An instant's thought was enough totell me that if he had sustained any more than a flesh wound he wouldnot have chased his assailant, not with so much at stake in thefuture.

Then I concerned myself with a cold grip of desire to get near therustler who had wounded Steele. As I started forward, however, MissSampson defeated me. Sally once more clung to my hands, and directly wewere surrounded by an excited circle.

It took a moment or two to calm them.

"Then there's a rustler—here—hiding?" repeated MissSampson.

"Miss Sampson, I'll find him. I'll rout him out," I said.

"Yes, yes, find him, Russ, but don't use violence," she replied."Send him away—no, give him over to—"

"Nothing of the kind," interrupted George Wright, loud-voiced."Cousin, go on with your dance. I'll take a couple of cowboys. I'llfind this—this rustler, if there's one here. But I think it'sonly another bluff of Steele's."

This from Wright angered me deeply, and I strode right for thedoor.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"I've Miss Sampson's orders. She wants me to find this hidden man.She trusts me not to allow any violence."

"Didn't I say I'd see to that?" he snarled.

"Wright, I don't care what you say," I retorted. "But I'm thinkingyou might not want me to find this rustler."

Wright turned black in the face. Verily, if he had worn a gun hewould have pulled it on me. As it was, Miss Sampson's interferenceprobably prevented more words, if no worse.

"Don't quarrel," she said. "George, you go with Russ. Please hurry.I'll be nervous till the rustler's found or you're sure there's notone."

We started with several cowboys to ransack the house. We wentthrough the rooms, searching, calling out, flashing our lanterns indark places.

It struck me forcibly that Wright did all the calling. He hurried,too, tried to keep in the lead. I wondered if he knew his voice wouldbe recognized by the hiding man.

Be that as it might, it was I who peered into a dark corner, andthen with a cocked gun leveled I said: "Come out!"

He came forth into the flare of lanterns, a tall, slim, dark-facedyouth, wearing dark sombrero, blouse and trousers. I collared himbefore any of the others could move, and I held the gun close enough tomake him shrink.

But he did not impress me as being frightened just then;nevertheless, he had a clammy face, the pallid look of a man who hadjust gotten over a shock. He peered into my face, then into that of thecowboy next to me, then into Wright's and if ever in my life I beheldrelief I saw it then.

That was all I needed to know, but I meant to find out more if Icould.

"Who're you?" I asked quietly.

He gazed rather arrogantly down at me. It always irritated me to belooked down at that way.

"Say, don't be gay with me or you'll get it good," I yelled,prodding him in the side with the cocked gun. "Who are you? Quick!"

"Bo Snecker," he said.

"Any relation to Bill Snecker?"

"His son."

"What'd you hide here for?"

He appeared to grow sullen.

"Reckoned I'd be as safe in Sampson's as anywheres."

"Ahuh! You're taking a long chance," I replied, and he never knew,or any of the others, just how long a chance that was.

Sight of Steele's bloody breast remained with me, and I hadsomething sinister to combat. This was no time for me to reveal myselfor to show unusual feeling or interest for Steele.

As Steele had abandoned his search, I had nothing to do now but letthe others decide what disposition was to be made of Snecker.

"Wright, what'll you do with him?" I queried, as if uncertain, nowthe capture was made. I let Snecker go and sheathed my weapon.

That seemed a signal for him to come to life. I guessed he had notmuch fancied the wide and somewhat variable sweep of that cockedgun.

"I'll see to that," replied Wright gruffly, and he pushed Snecker infront of him into the hall. I followed them out into the court at theback of the house.

As I had very little further curiosity I did not wait to see wherethey went, but hurried back to relieve Miss Sampson and Sally.

I found them as I had left them—Sally quiet, pale, MissSampson nervous and distressed. I soon calmed their fears of anyfurther trouble or possible disturbance. Miss Sampson then becamecurious and wanted to know who the rustler was.

"How strange he should come here," she said several times.

"Probably he'd run this way or thought he had a better chance tohide where there was dancing and confusion," I replied glibly.

I wondered how much longer I would find myself keen to shunt hermind from any channel leading to suspicion.

"Would papa have arrested him?" she asked.

"Colonel Sampson might have made it hot for him," I replied frankly,feeling that if what I said had a double meaning it still was nolie.

"Oh, I forgot—the Ranger!" she exclaimed suddenly. "That awfulsight—the whole front of him bloody! Russ, how could he stand upunder such a wound? Do you think it'll kill him?"

"That's hard to say. A man like Steele can stand a lot."

"Russ, please go find him! See how it is with him!" she said, almostpleadingly.

I started, glad of the chance and hurried down toward the town.

There was a light in the little adobe house where he lived, andproceeding cautiously, so as to be sure no one saw me, I went close andwhistled low in a way he would recognize. Then he opened the door and Iwent in.

"Hello, son!" he said. "You needn't have worried. Sling a blanketover that window so no one can see in."

He had his shirt off and had been in the act of bandaging a woundthat the bullet had cut in his shoulder.

"Let me tie that up," I said, taking the strips of linen. "Ahuh!Shot you from behind, didn't he?"

"How else, you locoed lady-charmer? It's a wonder I didn't have totell you that."

"Tell me about it."

Steele related a circumstance differing little from other attemptsat his life, and concluded by saying that Snecker was a good runner ifhe was not a good shot.

I finished the bandaging and stood off, admiring Steele'smagnificent shoulders. I noted, too, on the fine white skin more thanone scar made by bullets. I got an impression that his strength andvitality were like his spirit—unconquerable!

"So you knew it was Bill Snecker's son?" I asked when I had told himabout finding the rustler.

"Sure. Jim Hoden pointed him out to me yesterday. Both the Sneckersare in town. From now on we're going to be busy, Russ."

"It can't come too soon for me," I replied. "Shall I chuck my job?Come out from behind these cowboy togs?"

"Not yet. We need proof, Russ. We've got to be able to prove things.Hang on at the ranch yet awhile."

"This Bo Snecker was scared stiff till he recognized Wright. Isn'tthat proof?"

"No, that's nothing. We've got to catch Sampson and Wrightred-handed."

"I don't like the idea of you trailing along alone," I protested."Remember what Neal told me. I'm to kick. It's time for me to hanground with a couple of guns. You'll never use one."

"The hell I won't," he retorted, with a dark glance of passion. Iwas surprised that my remark had angered him. "You fellows are allwrong. I knowwhen to throw a gun. You ought to remember thatRangers have a bad name for wanting to shoot. And I'm afraid it'sdeserved."

"Did you shoot at Snecker?" I queried.

"I could have got him in the back. But that wouldn't do. I shotthree times at his legs—tried to let him down. I'd have made himtell everything he knew, but he ran. He was too fast for me."

"Shooting at his legs! No wonder he ran. He savvied your game allright. It's funny, Vaughn, how these rustlers and gunmen don't mindbeing killed. But to cripple them, rope them, jail them—that'shell to them! Well, I'm to go on, up at the ranch, falling further inlove with that sweet kid instead of coming out straight to face thingswith you?"

Steele had to laugh, yet he was more thoughtful of myinsistence.

"Russ, you think you have patience, but you don't know what patienceis. I won't be hurried on this job. But I'll tell you what: I'll hangunder cover most of the time when you're not close to me. See? That canbe managed. I'll watch for you when you come in town. We'll go in thesame places. And in case I get busy you can stand by and trail alongafter me. That satisfy you?"

"Fine!" I said, both delighted and relieved. "Well, I'll have torustle back now to tell Miss Sampson you're all right."

Steele had about finished pulling on a clean shirt, exercising carenot to disarrange the bandages; and he stopped short to turn squarelyand look at me with hungry eyes.

"Russ, did she—show sympathy?"

"She was all broken up about it. Thought you were going to die."

"Did she send you?"

"Sure. And she said hurry," I replied.

I was not a little gleeful over the apparent possibility of Steelebeing in the same boat with me.

"Do you think she would have cared if—if I had been shot upbad?"

The great giant of a Ranger asked this like a boy, hesitatingly,with color in his face.

"Care! Vaughn, you're as thickheaded as you say I'm locoed. DianeSampson has fallen in love with you! That's all. Love at first sight!She doesn't realize it. But I know."

There he stood as if another bullet had struck him, this timestraight through the heart. Perhaps one had—and I repented alittle of my overconfident declaration.

Still, I would not go back on it. I believed it.

"Russ, for God's sake! What a terrible thing to say!" he ejaculatedhoarsely.

"No. It's not terrible tosay it—only the fact isterrible," I went on. I may be wrong. But I swear I'm right. When youopened your coat, showed that bloody breast—well, I'll neverforget her eyes.

"She had been furious. She showed passion—hate. Then all in asecond something wonderful, beautiful broke through. Pity, fear,agonized thought of your death! If that's not love, if—if she didnot betray love, then I never saw it. She thinks she hates you. But sheloves you."

"Get out of here," he ordered thickly.

I went, not forgetting to peep out at the door and to listen amoment, then I hurried into the open, up toward the ranch.

The stars were very big and bright, so calm, so cold, that itsomehow hurt me to look at them. Not like men's lives, surely!

What had fate done to Vaughn Steele and to me? I had a moment ofbitterness, an emotion rare with me.

Most Rangers put love behind them when they entered the Service andseldom found it after that. But love had certainly met me on the way,and I now had confirmation of my fear that Vaughn was hard hit.

Then the wildness, the adventurer in me stirred to the wonder of itall. It was in me to exult even in the face of fate. Steele and I,while balancing our lives on the hair-trigger of a gun, had certainlyfallen into a tangled web of circumstances not calculated in the roleof Rangers.

I went back to the ranch with regret, remorse, sorrow knocking at myheart, but notwithstanding that, tingling alive to the devilishexcitement of the game.

I knew not what it was that prompted me to sow the same seed inDiane Sampson's breast that I had sown in Steele's; probably it wasjust a propensity for sheer mischief, probably a certainty of the truthand a strange foreshadowing of a coming event.

If Diane Sampson loved, through her this event might be less tragic.Somehow love might save us all.

That was the shadowy portent flitting in the dark maze of mymind.

At the ranch dancing had been resumed. There might never have beenany interruption of the gaiety. I found Miss Sampson on the lookout forme and she searched my face with eyes that silenced my one last qualmof conscience.

"Let's go out in the patio," I suggested. "I don't want any one tohear what I say."

Outside in the starlight she looked white and very beautiful. I felther tremble. Perhaps my gravity presaged the worst. So it did in oneway—poor Vaughn!

"I went down to Steele's 'dobe, the little place where he lives." Ibegan, weighing my words. "He let me in—was surprised. He hadbeen shot high in the shoulder, not a dangerous wound. I bandaged itfor him. He was grateful—said he had no friends."

"Poor fellow! Oh, I'm glad it—it isn't bad," said MissSampson. Something glistened in her eyes.

"He looked strange, sort of forlorn. I think your words—whatyou said hurt him more than the bullet. I'm sure of that, MissSampson."

"Oh, I saw that myself! I was furious. But I—I meant what Isaid."

"You wronged Steele. I happen to know. I know his record along theRio Grande. It's scarcely my place, Miss Sampson, to tell you whatyou'll find out for yourself, sooner or later."

"What shall I find out?" she demanded.

"I've said enough."

"No. You mean my father and cousin George are misinformed or wrongabout Steele? I've feared it this last hour. It was his look. Thatpierced me. Oh, I'd hate to be unjust. You say I wronged him, Russ?Then you take sides with him against my father?"

"Yes," I replied very low.

She was keenly hurt and seemed, despite an effort, to shrink fromme.

"It's only natural you should fight for your father," I went on."Perhaps you don't understand. He has ruled here for long. He'sbeen—well, let's say, easy with the evil-doers. But times arechanging. He opposed the Ranger idea, which is also natural, I suppose.Still, he's wrong about Steele, terribly wrong, and it meanstrouble."

"Oh, I don't know what to believe!"

"It might be well for you to think things out for yourself."

"Russ, I feel as though I couldn't. I can't make head or tail oflife out here. My father seems so strange. Though, of course, I've onlyseen him twice a year since I was a little girl. He has two sides tohim. When I come upon that strange side, the one I never knew, he'slike a man I never saw.

"I want to be a good and loving daughter. I want to help him fighthis battles. But he doesn't—he doesn'tsatisfy me. He'sgrown impatient and wants me to go back to Louisiana. That gives me afeeling of mystery. Oh, it'sall mystery!"

"True, you're right," I replied, my heart aching for her. "It's allmystery—and trouble for you, too. Perhaps you'd do well to gohome."

"Russ, you suggest I leave here—leave my father?" sheasked.

"I advise it. You struck a—a rather troublesome time. Lateryou might return if—"

"Never. I came to stay, and I'll stay," she declared, and there hertemper spoke.

"Miss Sampson," I began again, after taking a long, deep breath, "Iought to tell you one thing more about Steele."

"Well, go on."

"Doesn't he strike you now as being the farthest removed from aranting, brutal Ranger?"

"I confess he was at least a gentleman."

"Rangers don't allow anything to interfere with the discharge oftheir duty. He was courteous after you defamed him. He respected yourwish. He did not break up the dance.

"This may not strike you particularly. But let me explain thatSteele was chasing an outlaw who had shot him. Under ordinarycircumstances he would have searched your house. He would have beenlike a lion. He would have torn the place down around our ears to getthat rustler.

"But his action was so different from what I had expected, it amazedme. Just now, when I was with him, I learned, I guessed, what stayedhis hand. I believe you ought to know."

"Know what?" she asked. How starry and magnetic her eyes! A woman'sdivining intuition made them wonderful with swift-varying emotion.

They drew me on to the fatal plunge. What was I doing toher—to Vaughn? Something bound my throat, making speechdifficult.

"He's fallen in love with you," I hurried on in a husky voice. "Loveat first sight! Terrible! Hopeless! I saw it—felt it. I can'texplain how I know, but I do know.

"That's what stayed his hand here. And that's why I'm on his side.He's alone. He has a terrible task here without any handicaps. Everyman is against him. If he fails, you might be the force that weakenedhim. So you ought to be kinder in your thought of him. Wait before youjudge him further.

"If he isn't killed, time will prove him noble instead of vile. Ifhe is killed, which is more than likely, you'll feel the happier for agenerous doubt in favor of the man who loved you."

Like one stricken blind, she stood an instant; then, with her handsat her breast, she walked straight across the patio into the dark, opendoor of her room.

Chapter 5

CLEANING OUT LINROCK

Not much sleep visited me that night. In the morning, the youngladies not stirring and no prospects of duty for me, I rode down totown.

Sight of the wide street, lined by its hitching posts and saddledhorses, the square buildings with their ugly signs, unfinished yet old,the lounging, dust-gray men at every corner—these awoke in me asignificance that had gone into oblivion overnight.

That last talk with Miss Sampson had unnerved me, wrought strangelyupon me. And afterward, waking and dozing, I had dreamed, lived in awarm, golden place where there were music and flowers and Sally'sspritelike form leading me on after two tall, beautiful lovers, Dianeand Vaughn, walking hand in hand.

Fine employment of mind for a Ranger whose single glance down aquiet street pictured it with darkgarbed men in grim action, gunsspouting red, horses plunging!

In front of Hoden's restaurant I dismounted and threw my bridle. Jimwas unmistakably glad to see me.

"Where've you been? Morton was in an' powerful set on seein' you. Isteered him from goin' up to Sampson's. What kind of a game was yougivin' Frank?"

"Jim, I just wanted to see if he was a safe rancher to make a stockdeal for me."

"He says you told him he didn't have no yellow streak an' that hewas a rustler. Frank can't git over them two hunches. When he sees youhe's goin' to swear he's no rustler, but hehas got a yellowstreak, unless..."

This little, broken-down Texan had eyes like flint strikingfire.

"Unless?" I queried sharply.

Jim breathed a deep breath and looked around the room before hisgaze fixed again on mine.

"Wal," he replied, speaking low, "Me and Frank allows you've pickedthe right men. It was me that sent them letters to the Ranger captainat Austin. Now who in hell are you?"

It was my turn to draw a deep breath.

I had taken six weeks to strike fire from a Texan whom Iinstinctively felt had been prey to the power that shadowed Linrock.There was no one in the room except us, no one passing, nor near.

Reaching into the inside pocket of my buckskin vest, I turned thelining out. A star-shaped, bright, silver object flashed as I shovedit, pocket and all, under Jim's hard eyes.

He could not help but read; United States Deputy Marshall.

"By golly," he whispered, cracking the table with his fist. "Russ,you sure rung true to me. But never as a cowboy!"

"Jim, the woods is full of us!"

Heavy footsteps sounded on the walk. Presently Steele's bulkdarkened the door.

"Hello," I greeted. "Steele, shake hands with Jim Hoden."

"Hello," replied Steele slowly. "Say, I reckon I know Hoden."

"Nit. Not this one. He's the old Hoden. He used to own the Hope Sosaloon. It was on the square when he ran it. Maybe he'll get it backpretty soon. Hope so!"

I laughed at my execrable pun. Steele leaned against the counter,his gray glance studying the man I had so oddly introduced.

Hoden in one flash associated the Ranger with me—a relation hehad not dreamed of. Then, whether from shock or hope or fear I knownot, he appeared about to faint.

"Hoden, do you know who's boss of this secret gang of rustlershereabouts?" asked Steele bluntly.

It was characteristic of him to come sharp to the point. His voice,something deep, easy, cool about him, seemed to steady Hoden.

"No," replied Hoden.

"Does anybody know?" went on Steele.

"Wal, I reckon there's not one honest native of Pecos whoknows."

"But you have your suspicions?"

"We have."

"You can keep your suspicions to yourself. But you can give me youridea about this crowd that hangs round the saloons, the regulars."

"Jest a bad lot," replied Hoden, with the quick assurance ofknowledge. "Most of them have been here years. Others have drifted in.Some of them work odd times. They rustle a few steer, steal, rob,anythin' for a little money to drink an' gamble. Jest a bad lot!

"But the strangers as are always comin' an' goin'—strangersthat never git acquainted—some of them are likely to bethe rustlers. Bill an' Bo Snecker are in town now. Bill's aknown cattle-thief. Bo's no good, the makin' of a gun-fighter. He headsthet way.

"They might be rustlers. But the boy, he's hardly careful enough forthis gang. Then there's Jack Blome. He comes to town often. He lives upin the hills. He always has three or four strangers with him. Blome'sthe fancy gun fighter. He shot a gambler here last fall. Then he was ina fight in Sanderson lately. Got two cowboys then.

"Blome's killed a dozen Pecos men. He's a rustler, too, but I reckonhe's not the brains of thet secret outfit, if he's in it at all."

Steele appeared pleased with Hoden's idea. Probably it coincidedwith the one he had arrived at himself.

"Now, I'm puzzled over this," said Steele. "Why do men, apparentlyhonest men, seem to be so close-mouthed here? Is that a fact or only myimpression?"

"It's sure a fact," replied Hoden darkly. "Men have lost cattle an'property in Linrock—lost them honestly or otherwise, as hasn'tbeen proved. An' in some cases when they talked—hinted alittle—they was found dead. Apparently held up an' robbed. Butdead. Dead men don't talk. Thet's why we're close-mouthed."

Steele's face wore a dark, somber sternness.

Rustling cattle was not intolerable. Western Texas had gone onprospering, growing in spite of the horde of rustlers ranging its vaststretches; but this cold, secret, murderous hold on a little strugglingcommunity was something too strange, too terrible for men to standlong.

It had waited for a leader like Steele, and now it could not last.Hoden's revived spirit showed that.

The ranger was about to speak again when the clatter of hoofsinterrupted him. Horses halted out in front.

A motion of Steele's hand caused me to dive through a curtained doorback of Hoden's counter. I turned to peep out and was in time to seeGeorge Wright enter with the red-headed cowboy called Brick.

That was the first time I had ever seen Wright come into Hoden's. Hecalled for tobacco.

If his visit surprised Jim he did not show any evidence. But Wrightshowed astonishment as he saw the Ranger, and then a dark glint flittedfrom the eyes that shifted from Steele to Hoden and back again.

Steele leaned easily against the counter, and he said good morningpleasantly. Wright deigned no reply, although he bent a curious andhard scrutiny upon Steele. In fact, Wright evinced nothing that wouldlead one to think he had any respect for Steele as a man or as aRanger.

"Steele, that was the second break of yours last night," he saidfinally. "If you come fooling round the ranch again there'll behell!"

It seemed strange that a man who had lived west of the Pecos for tenyears could not see in Steele something which forbade that kind oftalk.

It certainly was not nerve Wright showed; men of courage were seldomintolerant; and with the matchless nerve that characterized Steele orthe great gunmen of the day there went a cool, unobtrusive manner, aspeech brief, almost gentle, certainly courteous. Wright was ahot-headed Louisianian of French extraction; a man evidently who hadnever been crossed in anything, and who was strong, brutal, passionate,which qualities, in the face of a situation like this, made him simplya fool!

The way Steele looked at Wright was joy to me. I hated this smooth,dark-skinned Southerner. But, of course, an ordinary affront likeWright's only earned silence from Steele.

"I'm thinking you used your Ranger bluff just to get near DianeSampson," Wright sneered. "Mind you, if you come up there againthere'll be hell!"

"You're damn right there'll be hell!" retorted Steele, a kind ofhigh ring in his voice. I saw thick, dark red creep into his face.

Had Wright's incomprehensible mention of Diane Sampson been aninstinct of love—of jealousy? Verily, it had pierced into thedepths of the Ranger, probably as no other thrust could have.

"Diane Sampson wouldn't stoop to know a dirty blood-tracker likeyou," said Wright hotly. His was not a deliberate intention to rouseSteele; the man was simply rancorous. "I'll call you right, you cheapbluffer! You four-flush! You damned interfering conceited Ranger!"

Long before Wright ended his tirade Steele's face had lost the tingeof color, so foreign to it in moments like this; and the cool shade,the steady eyes like ice on fire, the ruthless lips had warned me, ifthey had not Wright.

"Wright, I'll not take offense, because you seem to be championingyour beautiful cousin," replied Steele in slow speech, biting. "But letme return your compliment. You're a fine Southerner! Why, you're only acheap four-flush—damned bull-headed—rustler"

Steele hissed the last word. Then for him—for me—forHoden—there was the truth in Wright's working passion-blackenedface.

Wright jerked, moved, meant to draw. But how slow! Steele lungedforward. His long arm swept up.

And Wright staggered backward, knocking table and chairs, to fallhard, in a half-sitting posture, against the wall.

"Don't draw!" warned Steele.

"Wright, get away from your gun!" yelled the cowboy Brick.

But Wright was crazed by fury. He tugged at his hip, his face cordedwith purple welts, malignant, murderous, while he got to his feet.

I was about to leap through the door when Steele shot. Wright's gunwent ringing to the floor.

Like a beast in pain Wright screamed. Frantically he waved a limparm, flinging blood over the white table-cloths. Steele had crippledhim.

"Here, you cowboy," ordered Steele; "take him out, quick!"

Brick saw the need of expediency, if Wright did not realize it, andhe pulled the raving man out of the place. He hurried Wright down thestreet, leaving the horses behind.

Steele calmly sheathed his gun.

"Well, I guess that opens the ball," he said as I came out.

Hoden seemed fascinated by the spots of blood on the table-cloths.It was horrible to see him rubbing his hands there like a ghoul!

"I tell you what, fellows," said Steele, "we've just had a fewpleasant moments with the man who has made it healthy to keepclose-mouthed in Linrock."

Hoden lifted his shaking hands.

"What'd you wing him for?" he wailed. "He was drawin' on you.Shootin' arms off men like him won't do out here."

I was inclined to agree with Hoden.

"That bull-headed fool will roar and butt himself with all his gangright into our hands. He's just the man I've needed to meet. Besides,shooting him would have been murder for me!"

"Murder!" exclaimed Hoden.

"He was a fool, and slow at that. Under such circumstances could Ikill him when I didn't have to?"

"Sure it'd been the trick." declared Jim positively. "I'm notallowin' for whether he's really a rustler or not. It just won't do,because these fellers out here ain't goin' to be afraid of you."

"See here, Hoden. If a man's going to be afraid of me at all, thattrick will make him more afraid of me. I know it. It works out. WhenWright cools down he'll remember, he'll begin to think, he'll realizethat I could more easily have killed him than risk a snapshot at hisarm. I'll bet you he goes pale to the gills next time he even seesme."

"That may be true, Steele. But if Wright's the man you think he ishe'll begin that secret underground bizness. It's been tolerablehealthy these last six months. You can gamble on this. If thet secretwork does commence you'll have more reason to suspect Wright. I won'tfeel very safe from now on.

"I heard you call him rustler. He knows thet. Why, Wright won'tsleep at night now. He an' Sampson have always been after me."

"Hoden, what are your eyes for?" demanded Steele. "Watch out. Andnow here. See your friend Morton. Tell him this game grows hot.Together you approach four or five men you know well and can absolutelytrust.

"Hello, there's somebody coming. You meet Russ and me to-night, outin the open a quarter of a mile, straight from the end of this street.You'll find a pile of stones. Meet us there to-night at teno'clock."

The next few days, for the several hours each day that I was intown, I had Steele in sight all the time or knew that he was safe undercover.

Nothing happened. His presence in the saloons or any place where mencongregated was marked by a certain uneasy watchfulness on the part ofalmost everybody, and some amusement on the part of a few.

It was natural to suppose that the lawless element would rise up ina mass and slay Steele on sight. But this sort of thing never happened.It was not so much that these enemies of the law awaited his next move,but just a slowness peculiar to the frontier.

The ranger was in their midst. He was interesting, if formidable. Hewould have been welcomed at card tables, at the bars, to play and drinkwith the men who knew they were under suspicion.

There was a rude kind of good humor even in their openhostility.

Besides, one Ranger, or a company of Rangers could not have held theundivided attention of these men from their games and drinks andquarrels except by some decided move. Excitement, greed, appetite wererife in them.

I marked, however, a striking exception to the usual run ofstrangers I had been in the habit of seeing. The Sneckers had gone orwere under cover. Again I caught a vague rumor of the coming of JackBlome, yet he never seemed to arrive.

Moreover, the goings-on among the habitues of the resorts and thecowboys who came in to drink and gamble were unusually mild incomparison with former conduct.

This lull, however, did not deceive Steele and me. It could notlast. The wonder was that it had lasted so long.

There was, of course, no post office in Linrock. A stage arrivedtwice a week from Sanderson, if it did not get held up on the way, andthe driver usually had letters, which he turned over to the elderlykeeper of a little store.

This man's name was Jones, and everybody liked him. On the eveningsthe stage arrived there was always a crowd at his store, which fact wasa source of no little revenue to him.

One night, so we ascertained, after the crowd had dispersed, twothugs entered his store, beat the old man and robbed him. He made nocomplaint; however, when Steele called him he rather reluctantly gavenot only descriptions of his assailants, but their names.

Steele straightaway went in search of the men and came across themin Lerett's place. I was around when it happened.

Steele strode up to a table which was surrounded by seven or eightmen and he tapped Sim Bass on the shoulder.

"Get up, I want you," he said.

Bass looked up only to see who had accosted him.

"The hell you say!" he replied impudently.

Steele's big hand shifted to the fellow's collar. One jerk,seemingly no effort at all, sent Bass sliding, chair and all, to crashinto the bar and fall in a heap. He lay there, wondering what hadstruck him.

"Miller, I want you. Get up," said Steele.

Miller complied with alacrity. A sharp kick put more life andunderstanding into Bass.

Then Steele searched these men right before the eyes of theircomrades, took what money and weapons they had, and marched them out,followed by a crowd that gathered more and more to it as they went downthe street. Steele took his prisoners into Jones' store, had themidentified; returned the money they had stolen, and then, pushing thetwo through the gaping crowd, he marched them down to his stone jailand locked them up.

Obviously the serious side of this incident was entirely lost uponthe highly entertained audience. Many and loud were the coarse jokescracked at the expense of Bass and Miller and after the rude door hadclosed upon them similar remarks were addressed to Steele's jailer andguard, who in truth, were just as disreputable looking as theirprisoners.

Then the crowd returned to their pastimes, leaving their erstwhilecomrades to taste the sweets of prison life.

When I got a chance I asked Steele if he could rely on his hiredhands, and with a twinkle in his eye which surprised me as much as hisreply, he said Miller and Bass would have flown the coop beforemorning.

He was right. When I reached the lower end of town next morning, thesame old crowd, enlarged by other curious men and youths, had come topay their respects to the new institution.

Jailer and guard were on hand, loud in their proclamations andexplanations. Naturally they had fallen asleep, as all other hardworking citizens had, and while they slept the prisoners made a holesomewhere and escaped.

Steele examined the hole, and then engaged a stripling of a youth tosee if he could crawl through. The youngster essayed the job, stuck inthe middle, and was with difficulty extricated.

Whereupon the crowd evinced its delight.

Steele, without more ado, shoved his jailer and guard inside hisjail, deliberately closed, barred and chained the iron bolted door, andput the key in his pocket. Then he remained there all day withoutgiving heed to his prisoners' threats.

Toward evening, having gone without drink infinitely longer than wascustomary, they made appeals, to which Steele was deaf.

He left the jail, however, just before dark, and when we met he toldme to be on hand to help him watch that night. We went around theoutskirts of town, carrying two heavy double-barreled shotguns Steelehad gotten somewhere and taking up a position behind bushes in the lotadjoining the jail; we awaited developments.

Steele was not above paying back these fellows.

All the early part of the evening, gangs of half a dozen men or morecame down the street and had their last treat at the expense of thejail guard and jailer. These prisoners yelled for drink—not waterbut drink, and the more they yelled the more merriment was loosed uponthe night air.

About ten o'clock the last gang left, to the despair of the hungryand thirsty prisoners.

Steele and I had hugely enjoyed the fun, and thought the best partof the joke for us was yet to come. The moon had arisen, and thoughsomewhat hazed by clouds, had lightened the night. We were hidden aboutsixty paces from the jail, a little above it, and we had a fine commandof the door.

About eleven o'clock, when all was still, we heard soft steps backof the jail, and soon two dark forms stole round in front. They laiddown something that gave forth a metallic clink, like a crowbar. Weheard whisperings and then, low, coarse laughs.

Then the rescuers, who undoubtedly were Miller and Bass, set to workto open the door. Softly they worked at first, but as that door hadbeen put there to stay, and they were not fond of hard work, they beganto swear and make noises.

Steele whispered to me to wait until the door had been opened, andthen when all four presented a good target, to fire both barrels. Wecould easily have slipped down and captured the rescuers, but that wasnot Steele's game.

A trick met by a trick; cunning matching craft would be the surestof all ways to command respect.

Four times the workers had to rest, and once they were so enraged atthe insistence of the prisoners, who wanted to delay proceedings tosend one of them after a bottle, that they swore they would go away andcut the job altogether.

But they were prevailed upon to stay and attack the stout door oncemore. Finally it yielded, with enough noise to have awakened sleepers ablock distant, and forth into the moonlight came rescuers and rescuedwith low, satisfied grunts of laughter.

Just then Steele and I each discharged both barrels, and the reportsblended as one in a tremendous boom.

That little compact bunch disintegrated like quicksilver. Twostumbled over; the others leaped out, and all yelled in pain andterror. Then the fallen ones scrambled up and began to hobble and limpand jerk along after their comrades.

Before the four of them got out of sight they had ceased theiryells, but were moving slowly, hanging on to one another in a way thatsatisfied us they would be lame for many a day.

Next morning at breakfast Dick regaled me with an elaborate storyabout how the Ranger had turned the tables on the jokers. Evidently ina night the whole town knew it.

Probably a desperate stand of Steele's even to the extreme ofkilling men, could not have educated these crude natives so quicklyinto the realization that the Ranger was not to be fooled with.

That morning I went for a ride with the girls, and both had heardsomething and wanted to know everything. I had become a news-carrier,and Miss Sampson never thought of questioning me in regard to my fundof information.

She showed more than curiosity. The account I gave of the jailaffair amused her and made Sally laugh heartily.

Diane questioned me also about a rumor that had come to herconcerning George Wright.

He had wounded himself with a gun, it seemed, and though notseriously injured, was not able to go about. He had not been up to theranch for days.

"I asked papa about him," said, Diane, "and papa laughedlike—well, like a regular hyena. I was dumbfounded. Papa's soqueer. He looked thunder-clouds at me.

"When I insisted, for I wanted to know, he ripped out: 'Yes, thedamn fool got himself shot, and I'm sorry it's not worse.'

"Now, Russ, what do you make of my dad? Cheerful and kind, isn'the?"

I laughed with Sally, but I disclaimed any knowledge of George'saccident. I hated the thought of Wright, let alone anything concerningthe fatal certainty that sooner or later these cousins of his were tosuffer through him.

Sally did not make these rides easy for me, for she was sweeter thananything that has a name. Since the evening of the dance I had tried toavoid her. Either she was sincerely sorry for her tantrum or she wasbent upon utterly destroying my peace.

I took good care we were never alone, for in that case, if she evergot into my arms again I would find the ground slipping from underme.

Despite, however, the wear and constant strain of resisting Sally, Ienjoyed the ride. There was a charm about being with these girls.

Then perhaps Miss Sampson's growing unconscious curiosity in regardto Steele was no little satisfaction to me.

I pretended a reluctance to speak of the Ranger, but when I did itwas to drop a subtle word or briefly tell of an action that suggestedsuch.

I never again hinted the thing that had been such a shock to her.What was in her mind I could not guess; her curiosity, perhaps thegreater part, was due to a generous nature not entirely satisfied withitself. She probably had not abandoned her father's estimate of theRanger but absolute assurance that this was just did not abide withher. For the rest she was like any other girl, a worshipper of the lionin a man, a weaver of romance, ignorant of her own heart.

Not the least talked of and speculated upon of all the details ofthe jail incident was the part played by Storekeeper Jones, who hadinformed upon his assailants. Steele and I both awaited results of thissignificant fact.

When would the town wake up, not only to a little nerve, but to theusefulness of a Ranger?

Three days afterward Steele told me a woman accosted him on thestreet. She seemed a poor, hardworking person, plain spoken andhonest.

Her husband did not drink enough to complain of, but he liked togamble and he had been fleeced by a crooked game in Jack Martin'ssaloon. Other wives could make the same complaints. It was God'sblessing for such women that Ranger Steele had come to Linrock.

Of course, he could not get back the lost money, but would it bepossible to close Martin's place, or at least break up the crookedgame?

Steele had asked this woman, whose name was Price, how much herhusband had lost, and, being told, he assured her that if he foundevidence of cheating, not only would he get back the money, but also hewould shut up Martin's place.

Steele instructed me to go that night to the saloon in question andget in the game. I complied, and, in order not to be overcarefullysized up by the dealer, I pretended to be well under the influence ofliquor.

By nine o'clock, when Steele strolled in, I had the game wellstudied, and a more flagrantly crooked one I had never sat in. It wasbarefaced robbery.

Steele and I had agreed upon a sign from me, because he was not soadept in the intricacies of gambling as I was. I was not in a hurry,however, for there was a little frecklefaced cattleman in the game, andhe had been losing, too. He had sold a bunch of stock that day and hadconsiderable money, which evidently he was to be deprived of before hegot started for Del Rio.

Steele stood at our backs, and I could feel his presence. Hethrilled me. He had some kind of effect on the others, especially thedealer, who was honest enough while the Ranger looked on.

When, however, Steele shifted his attention to other tables andplayers our dealer reverted to his crooked work. I was about to make adisturbance, when the little cattleman, leaning over, fire in his eyeand gun in hand, made it for me.

Evidently he was a keener and nervier gambler than he had been takenfor. There might have been gun-play right then if Steele had notinterfered.

"Hold on!" he yelled, leaping for our table. "Put up your gun!"

"Who are you?" demanded the cattleman, never moving. "Better keepout of this."

"I'm Steele. Put up your gun."

"You're thet Ranger, hey?" replied the other. "All right! But just aminute. I want this dealer to sit quiet. I've been robbed. And I wantmy money back."

Certainly the dealer and everyone else round the table sat quietwhile the cattleman coolly held his gun leveled.

"Crooked game?" asked Steele, bending over the table. "Show me."

It did not take the aggrieved gambler more than a moment to provehis assertion. Steele, however, desired corroboration from othersbeside the cattleman, and one by one he questioned them.

To my surprise, one of the players admitted his conviction that thegame was not straight.

"What do you say?" demanded Steele of me.

"Worse'n a hold-up, Mr. Ranger," I burst out. "Let me show you."

Deftly I made the dealer's guilt plain to all, and then I secondedthe cattleman's angry claim for lost money. The players from othertables gathered round, curious, muttering.

And just then Martin strolled in. His appearance was notprepossessing.

"What's this holler?" he asked, and halted as he saw the cattleman'sgun still in line with the dealer.

"Martin, you know what it's for," replied Steele. "Take your dealerand dig—unless you want to see me clean out your place."

Sullen and fierce, Martin stood looking from Steele to the cattlemanand then the dealer. Some men in the crowd muttered, and that was asignal for Steele to shove the circle apart and get out, back to thewall.

The cattleman rose slowly in the center, pulling another gun, and hecertainly looked business to me.

"Wal, Ranger, I reckon I'll hang round an' see you ain't botherednone," he said. "Friend," he went on, indicating me with a slight waveof one extended gun, "jest rustle the money in sight. We'll square upafter the show."

I reached out and swept the considerable sum toward me, and,pocketing it, I too rose, ready for what might come.

"You-all give me elbow room!" yelled Steele at Martin and his cowedcontingent.

Steele looked around, evidently for some kind of implement, and,espying a heavy ax in a corner, he grasped it, and, sweeping it to andfro as if it had been a buggy-whip, he advanced on the faro layout. Thecrowd fell back, edging toward the door.

One crashing blow wrecked the dealer's box and table, sending themsplintering among the tumbled chairs. Then the giant Ranger began tospread further ruin about him.

Martin's place was rough and bare, of the most primitive order, andlike a thousand other dens of its kind, consisted of a large room withadobe walls, a rude bar of boards, piles of kegs in a corner, a stove,and a few tables with chairs.

Steele required only one blow for each article he struck, and hedemolished it. He stove in the head of each keg.

When the dark liquor gurgled out, Martin cursed, and the crowdfollowed suit. That was a loss!

The little cattleman, holding the men covered, backed them out ofthe room, Martin needing a plain, stern word to put him out entirely. Iwent out, too, for I did not want to miss any moves on the part of thatgang.

Close behind me came the cattleman, the kind of cool, nervy Texan Iliked. He had Martin well judged, too, for there was no evidence of anybold resistance.

But there were shouts and loud acclamations; and these, with thecrashing blows of Steele's ax, brought a curious and growing additionto the crowd.

Soon sodden thuds from inside the saloon and red dust pouring outthe door told that Steele was attacking the walls of Martin's place.Those adobe bricks when old and crumbly were easily demolished.

Steele made short work of the back wall, and then he smashed outhalf of the front of the building. That seemed to satisfy him.

When he stepped out of the dust he was wet with sweat, dirty, anddisheveled, hot with his exertion—a man whose great stature andmuscular development expressed a wonderful physical strength andenergy. And his somber face, with the big gray eyes, like openfurnaces, expressed a passion equal to his strength.

Perhaps only then did wild and lawless Linrock grasp the realsignificance of this Ranger.

Steele threw the ax at Martin's feet.

"Martin, don't reopen here," he said curtly. "Don't start anotherplace in Linrock. If you do—jail at Austin for years."

Martin, livid and scowling, yet seemingly dazed with what hadoccurred, slunk away, accompanied by his cronies. Steele took the moneyI had appropriated, returned to me what I had lost, did likewise withthe cattleman, and then, taking out the sum named by Mrs. Price, hedivided the balance with the other players who had been in thegame.

Then he stalked off through the crowd as if he knew that men whoslunk from facing him would not have nerve enough to attack him evenfrom behind.

"Wal, damn me!" ejaculated the little cattleman in mingledadmiration and satisfaction. "So thet's that Texas Ranger, Steele, hey?Never seen him before. All Texas, thet Ranger!"

I lingered downtown as much to enjoy the sensation as to gain thedifferent points of view.

No doubt about the sensation! In one hour every male resident ofLinrock and almost every female had viewed the wreck of Martin's place.A fire could not have created half the excitement.

And in that excitement both men and women gave vent to speech theymight not have voiced at a calmer moment. The women, at least, were notafraid to talk, and I made mental note of the things they said.

"Did he do it all alone?"

"Thank God aman's come to Linrock."

"Good for Molly Price!"

"Oh, it'll make bad times for Linrock."

It almost seemed that all the women were glad, and this was initself a vindication of the Ranger's idea of law.

The men, however—Blandy, proprietor of the Hope So, and othersof his ilk, together with the whole brood of idle gaming loungers, andin fact even storekeepers, ranchers, cowboys—all shook theirheads sullenly or doubtfully.

Striking indeed now was the absence of any joking. Steele had showedhis hand, and, as one gambler said: "It's a hard hand to call."

The truth was, this Ranger Service was hateful to the free-and-easyTexan who lived by anything except hard and honest work, and it wasdamnably hateful to the lawless class. Steele's authority, now obviousto all, was unlimited; it could go as far as he had power to carryit.

From present indications that power might be considerable. The workof native sheriffs and constables in western Texas had been a farce, anutter failure. If an honest native of a community undertook to be asheriff he became immediately a target for rowdy cowboys and othervicious elements.

Many a town south and west of San Antonio owed its peace andprosperity to Rangers, and only to them. They had killed or driven outthe criminals. They interpreted the law for themselves, and it was onlysuch an attitude toward law—the stern, uncompromising, implacableextermination of the lawless—that was going to do for all Texaswhat it had done for part.

Steele was the driving wedge that had begun to splitLinrock—split the honest from dominance by the dishonest. To besure, Steele might be killed at any moment, and that contingency wasvoiced in the growl of one sullen man who said: "Wot the hell are we upagainst? Ain't somebody goin' to plug this Ranger?"

It was then that the thing for which Steele stood, the RangerService—to help, to save, to defend, to punish, with such sombermenace of death as seemed embodied in his cold attitude towardresistance—took hold of Linrock and sunk deep into both black andhonest hearts.

It was what was behind Steele that seemed to make him more than anofficer—a man.

I could feel how he began to loom up, the embodiment of a powerfulforce—the Ranger Service—the fame of which, long known tothis lawless Pecos gang, but scouted as a vague and distant thing, nowbecame an actuality, a Ranger in the flesh, whose surprising attributesincluded both the law and the enforcement of it.

When I reached the ranch the excitement had preceded me. MissSampson and Sally, both talking at once, acquainted me with the factthat they had been in a store on the main street a block or more fromMartin's place.

They had seen the crowd, heard the uproar; and, as they had beenhurriedly started toward home by their attendant Dick, they hadencountered Steele stalking by.

"He looked grand!" exclaimed Sally.

Then I told the girls the whole story in detail.

"Russ, is it true, just as you tell it?" inquired Dianeearnestly.

"Absolutely. I know Mrs. Price went to Steele with her trouble. Iwas in Martin's place when he entered. Also I was playing in thecrooked game. And I saw him wreck Martin's place. Also, I heard himforbid Martin to start another place in Linrock."

"Then he does do splendid things," she said softly, as if affirmingto herself.

I walked on then, having gotten a glimpse of Colonel Sampson in thebackground. Before I reached the corrals Sally came running after me,quite flushed and excited.

"Russ, my uncle wants to see you," she said. "He's in a bad temper.Don't lose yours, please."

She actually took my hand. What a child she was, in all ways exceptthat fatal propensity to flirt. Her statement startled me out of anyfurther thought of her. Why did Sampson want to see me? He nevernoticed me. I dreaded facing him—not from fear, but because Imust see more and more of the signs of guilt in Diane's father.

He awaited me on the porch. As usual, he wore riding garb, butevidently he had not been out so far this day. He looked worn. Therewas a furtive shadow in his eyes. The haughty, imperious temper,despite Sally's conviction, seemed to be in abeyance.

"Russ, what's this I hear about Martin's saloon being cleaned out?"he asked. "Dick can't give particulars."

Briefly and concisely I told the colonel exactly what had happened.He chewed his cigar, then spat it out with an unintelligibleexclamation.

"Martin's no worse than others," he said. "Blandy leans to crookedfaro. I've tried to stop that, anyway. If Steele can, more power tohim!"

Sampson turned on his heel then and left me with a queer feeling ofsurprise and pity.

He had surprised me before, but he had never roused the leastsympathy. It was probably that Sampson was indeed powerless, no matterwhat his position.

I had known men before who had become involved in crime, yet weretoo manly to sanction a crookedness they could not help.

Miss Sampson had been standing in her door. I could tell she hadheard; she looked agitated. I knew she had been talking to herfather.

"Russ, he hates the Ranger," she said. "That's what I fear. It'llbring trouble on us. Besides, like everybody here, he's biased. Hecan't see anything good in Steele. Yet he says: 'More power to him!'I'm mystified, and, oh, I'm between two fires!"

Steele's next noteworthy achievement was as new to me as it wasstrange to Linrock. I heard a good deal about it from my acquaintances,some little from Steele, and the concluding incident I saw and heardmyself.

Andy Vey was a broken-down rustler whose activity had ceased and whospent his time hanging on at the places frequented by younger andbetter men of his kind. As he was a parasite, he was often thrown outof the dens.

Moreover, it was an open secret that he had been a rustler, and themen with whom he associated had not yet, to most of Linrock, becomeknown as such.

One night Vey had been badly beaten in some back room of a saloonand carried out into a vacant lot and left there. He lay there all thatnight and all the next day. Probably he would have died there had notSteele happened along.

The Ranger gathered up the crippled rustler, took him home, attendedto his wounds, nursed him, and in fact spent days in the little adobehouse with him.

During this time I saw Steele twice, at night out in our rendezvous.He had little to communicate, but was eager to hear when I had seen JimHoden, Morton, Wright, Sampson, and all I could tell about them, andthe significance of things in town.

Andy Vey recovered, and it was my good fortune to be in the Hope Sowhen he came in and addressed a crowd of gamesters there.

"Fellers," he said, "I'm biddin' good-by to them as was once myfriends. I'm leavin' Linrock. An' I'm askin' some of you to take thetgood-by an' a partin' word to them as did me dirt.

"I ain't a-goin' to say if I'd crossed the trail of this Rangeryears ago thet I'd of turned round an' gone straight. But mebbe Iwould—mebbe. There's a hell of a lot a man doesn't know till toolate. I'm old now, ready fer the bone pile, an' it doesn't matter. ButI've got a head on me yet, an' I want to give a hunch to thet gang whodone me. An' that hunch wants to go around an' up to the big guns ofPecos.

"This Texas Star Ranger was the feller who took me in. I'd of diedlike a poisoned coyote but fer him. An' he talked to me. He gave memoney to git out of Pecos. Mebbe everybody'll think he helped mebecause he wanted me to squeal. To squeal who's who round these rustlerdiggin's. Wal, he never asked me. Mebbe he seen I wasn't a squealer.But I'm thinkin' he wouldn't ask a feller thet nohow.

"An' here's my hunch. Steele has spotted the outfit. Thet ain't somuch, mebbe. But I've been with him, an' I'm old figgerin' men. Jest assure as God made little apples he's a goin' to put thet outfitthrough—or he's a-goin' to kill them!"

Chapter 6

ENTER JACK BLOME

Strange that the narrating of this incident made Diane Sampsonunhappy.

When I told her she exhibited one flash of gladness, such as anywoman might have shown for a noble deed and then she became thoughtful,almost gloomy, sad. I could not understand her complex emotions.Perhaps she contrasted Steele with her father; perhaps she wanted tobelieve in Steele and dared not; perhaps she had all at once seen theRanger in his true light, and to her undoing.

She bade me take Sally for a ride and sought her room. I had mymisgivings when I saw Sally come out in that trim cowgirl suit and lookat me as if to say this day would be my Waterloo.

But she rode hard and long ahead of me before she put anymachinations into effect. The first one found me with a respectfuldemeanor but an internal conflict.

"Russ, tighten my cinch," she said when I caught up with her.

Dismounting, I drew the cinch up another hole and fastened it.

"My boot's unlaced, too," she added, slipping a shapely foot out ofthe stirrup.

To be sure, it was very much unlaced. I had to take off my gloves tolace it up, and I did it heroically, with bent head and outward calm,when all the time I was mad to snatch the girl out of the saddle andhold her tight or run off with her or do some other fool thing.

"Russ, I believe Diane's in love with Steele," she said soberly,with the sweet confidence she sometimes manifested in me.

"Small wonder. It's in the air," I replied.

She regarded me doubtfully.

"It was," she retorted demurely.

"The fickleness of women is no new thing to me. I didn't expectWaters to last long."

"Certainly not when there are nicer fellows around. One, anyway,when he cares."

A little brown hand slid out of its glove and dropped to myshoulder.

"Make up. You've been hateful lately. Make up with me."

It was not so much what she said as the sweet tone of her voice andthe nearness of her that made a tumult within me. I felt the bloodtingle to my face.

"Why should I make up with you?" I queried in self defense. "You areonly flirting. You won't—you can't ever be anything to me,really."

Sally bent over me and I had not the nerve to look up.

"Never mind things—really," she replied. "The future's faroff. Let it alone. We're together. I—I like you, Russ. And I'vegot to be—to be loved. There. I never confessed that to any otherman. You've been hateful when we might have had such fun. The rides inthe sun, in the open with the wind in our faces. The walks at night inthe moonlight. Russ, haven't you missed something?"

The sweetness and seductiveness of her, the little luring devil ofher, irresistible as they were, were no more irresistible than thenaturalness, the truth of her.

I trembled even before I looked up into her flushed face and archeyes; and after that I knew if I could not frighten her out of thisdaring mood I would have to yield despite my conviction that she onlytrifled. As my manhood, as well as duty to Steele, forced me to beunyielding, all that was left seemed to be to frighten her.

The instant this was decided a wave of emotion—love, regret,bitterness, anger—surged over me, making me shake. I felt theskin on my face tighten and chill. I grasped her with strength thatmight have need to hold a plunging, unruly horse. I hurt her. I heldher as in a vise.

And the action, the feel of her, her suddenly uttered cry wroughtagainst all pretense, hurt me as my brutality hurt her, and then Ispoke what was hard, passionate truth.

"Girl, you're playing with fire!" I cried out hoarsely. "I loveyou—love you as I'd want my sister loved. I asked you to marryme. That was proof, if it was foolish. Even if you were on the square,which you're not, we couldn't ever be anything to each other.Understand? There's a reason, besides your being above me. I can'tstand it. Stop playing with me or I'll—I'll..."

Whatever I meant to say was not spoken, for Sally turned deathlywhite, probably from my grasp and my looks as well as my threat.

I let go of her, and stepping back to my horse choked down myemotion.

"Russ!" she faltered, and there was womanliness and regret tremblingwith the fear in her voice. "I—I am on the square."

That had touched the real heart of the girl.

"If you are, then play the game square," I replied darkly.

"I will, Russ, I promise. I'll never tease or coax you again. If Ido, then I'll deserve what you—what I get. But, Russ, don't thinkme a—a four-flush."

All the long ride home we did not exchange another word. Thetraveling gait of Sally's horse was a lope, that of mine a trot; andtherefore, to my relief, she was always out in front.

As we neared the ranch, however, Sally slowed down until I caught upwith her; and side by side we rode the remainder of the way. At thecorrals, while I unsaddled, she lingered.

"Russ, you didn't tell me if you agreed with me about Diane," shesaid finally.

"Maybe you're right. I hope she's fallen in love with Steele. Lordknows I hope so," I blurted out.

I bit my tongue. There was no use in trying to be as shrewd withwomen as I was with men. I made no reply.

"Misery loves company. Maybe that's why," she added. "You told meSteele lost his head over Diane at first sight. Well, we all havecompany. Good night, Russ."

That night I told Steele about the singular effect the story of histreatment of Vey had upon Miss Sampson. He could not conceal hisfeelings. I read him like an open book.

If she was unhappy because he did something really good, then shewas unhappy because she was realizing she had wronged him.

Steele never asked questions, but the hungry look in his eyes wasenough to make even a truthful fellow exaggerate things.

I told him how Diane was dressed, how her face changed with eachemotion, how her eyes burned and softened and shadowed, how her voicehad been deep and full when she admitted her father hated him, how muchshe must have meant when she said she was between two fires. I divinedhow he felt and I tried to satisfy in some little measure his cravingfor news of her.

When I had exhausted my fund and stretched my imagination I wasrewarded by being told that I was a regular old woman for gossip.

Much taken back by this remarkable statement I could but gape at mycomrade. Irritation had followed shortly upon his curiosity andpleasure, and then the old sane mind reasserted itself, the old sternlook, a little sad now, replaced the glow, the strange eagerness ofyouth on his face.

"Son, I beg your pardon," he said, with his hand on my shoulder."We're Rangers, but we can't help being human. To speak right out, itseems two sweet and lovable girls have come, unfortunately for us all,across the dark trail we're on. Let us find what solace we can in thehope that somehow, God only knows how, in doing our duty as Rangers wemay yet be doing right by these two innocent girls. I ask you, as myfriend, please do not speak again to me of—Miss Sampson."

I left him and went up the quiet trail with the thick shadows allaround me and the cold stars overhead; and I was sober in thought, sickat heart for him as much as for myself, and I tortured my mind infruitless conjecture as to what the end of this strange and fatefuladventure would be.

I discovered that less and less the old wild spirit abided with meand I become conscious of a dull, deep-seated ache in my breast, a pangin the bone.

From that day there was a change in Diane Sampson. She becamefeverishly active. She wanted to ride, to see for herself what wasgoing on in Linrock, to learn of that wild Pecos county life at firsthand.

She made such demands on my time now that I scarcely ever found anhour to be with or near Steele until after dark. However, as he wasplaying a waiting game on the rustlers, keeping out of the resorts forthe present, I had not great cause for worry. Hoden was slowlygathering men together, a band of trustworthy ones, and until thisorganization was complete and ready, Steele thought better to goslow.

It was of little use for me to remonstrate with Miss Sampson whenshe refused to obey a distracted and angry father. I began to feelsorry for Sampson. He was an unscrupulous man, but he loved thisdaughter who belonged to another and better and past side of hislife.

I heard him appeal to her to go back to Louisiana; to let him takeher home, giving as urgent reason the probability of trouble for him.She could not help, could only handicap him.

She agreed to go, provided he sold his property, took the best ofhis horses and went with her back to the old home to live there therest of their lives. He replied with considerable feeling that hewished he could go, but it was impossible. Then that settled the matterfor her, she averred.

Failing to persuade her to leave Linrock, he told her to keep to theranch. Naturally, in spite of his anger, Miss Sampson refused to obey;and she frankly told him that it was the free, unfettered life of thecountry, the riding here and there that appealed so much to her.

Sampson came to me a little later and his worn face showed traces ofinternal storm.

"Russ, for a while there I wanted to get rid of you," he said. "I'vechanged. Diane always was a spoiled kid. Now she's a woman. Something'sfired her blood. Maybe it's this damned wild country. Anyway, she's gotthe bit between her teeth. She'll run till she's run herself out.

"Now, it seems the safety of Diane, and Sally, too, has fallen intoyour hands. The girls won't have one of my cowboys near them. Latelythey've got shy of George, too. Between you and me I want to tell youthat conditions here in Pecos are worse than they've seemed sinceyou-all reached the ranch. But bad work will break out again—it'scoming soon.

"I can't stop it. The town will be full of the hardest gang inwestern Texas. My daughter and Sally would not be safe if left alone togo anywhere. With you, perhaps, they'll be safe. Can I rely onyou?"

"Yes, Sampson, you sure can," I replied. "I'm on pretty good termswith most everybody in town. I think I can say none of the tough setwho hang out down there would ever made any move while I'm with thegirls. But I'll be pretty careful to avoid them, and particularlystrange fellows who may come riding in.

"And if any of them do meet us and start trouble, I'm going for mygun, that's all. There won't be any talk."

"Good! I'll back you," Sampson replied. "Understand, Russ, I didn'twant you here, but I always had you sized up as a pretty hard nut, aman not to be trifled with. You've got a bad name. Diane insists thename's not deserved. She'd trust you with herself under anycircumstances. And the kid, Sally, she'd be fond of you if it wasn'tfor the drink. Have you been drunk a good deal? Straight now, betweenyou and me."

"Not once," I replied.

"George's a liar then. He's had it in for you since that day atSanderson. Look out you two don't clash. He's got a temper, and whenhe's drinking he's a devil. Keep out of his way."

"I've stood a good deal from Wright, and guess I can standmore."

"All right, Russ," he continued, as if relieved. "Chuck the drinkand cards for a while and keep an eye on the girls. When my affairsstraighten out maybe I'll make you a proposition."

Sampson left me material for thought. Perhaps it was not only thepresence of a Ranger in town that gave him concern, nor the wilfulnessof his daughter. There must be internal strife in the rustler gang withwhich we had associated him.

Perhaps a menace of publicity, rather than risk, was the cause ofthe wearing strain on him. I began to get a closer insight intoSampson, and in the absence of any conclusive evidence of his personalbaseness I felt pity for him.

In the beginning he had opposed me just because I did not happen tobe a cowboy he had selected. This latest interview with me, amountingin some instances to confidence, proved absolutely that he had not theslightest suspicion that I was otherwise than the cowboy I pretended tobe.

Another interesting deduction was that he appeared to be out ofpatience with Wright. In fact, I imagined I sensed something of fearand distrust in this spoken attitude toward his relative. Notimprobably here was the internal strife between Sampson and Wright, andthere flashed into my mind, absolutely without reason, an idea that theclash was over Diane Sampson.

I scouted this intuitive idea as absurd; but, just the same, itrefused to be dismissed.

As I turned my back on the coarse and exciting life in the saloonsand gambling hells, and spent all my time except when sleeping, out inthe windy open under blue sky and starry heaven, my spirit had anuplift.

I was glad to be free of that job. It was bad enough to have to gointo these dens to arrest men, let alone living with them, almost beingone.

Diane Sampson noted a change in me, attributed it to the absence ofthe influence of drink, and she was glad. Sally made no attempt toconceal her happiness; and to my dismay, she utterly failed to keep herpromise not to tease or tempt me further.

She was adorable, distracting.

We rode every day and almost all day. We took our dinner and wentclear to the foothills to return as the sun set. We visited outlyingranches, water-holes, old adobe houses famous in one way or another asscenes of past fights of rustlers and ranchers.

We rode to the little village of Sampson, and half-way to Sanderson,and all over the country.

There was no satisfying Miss Sampson with rides, new places, newfaces, new adventures. And every time we rode out she insisted on firstriding through Linrock; and every time we rode home she insisted ongoing back that way.

We visited all the stores, the blacksmith, the wagon shop, the feedand grain houses—everywhere that she could find excuse forvisiting. I had to point out to her all the infamous dens in town, andall the lawless and lounging men we met.

She insisted upon being shown the inside of the Hope So, to theextreme confusion of that bewildered resort.

I pretended to be blind to this restless curiosity. Sally understoodthe cause, too, and it divided her between a sweet gravity and anaughty humor.

The last, however, she never evinced in sight or hearing ofDiane.

It seemed that we were indeed fated to cross the path of VaughnSteele. We saw him working round his adobe house; then we saw him onhorseback. Once we met him face to face in a store.

He gazed steadily into Diane Sampson's eyes and went his way withoutany sign of recognition. There was red in her face when he passed andwhite when he had gone.

That day she rode as I had never seen her, risking her life,unmindful of her horse.

Another day we met Steele down in the valley, where, inquirydiscovered to us, he had gone to the home of an old cattleman who livedalone and was ill.

Last and perhaps most significant of all these meetings was the onewhen we were walking tired horses home through the main street ofLinrock and came upon Steele just in time to see him in action.

It happened at a corner where the usual slouchy, shirt-sleevedloungers were congregated. They were in high glee over the predicamentof one ruffian who had purchased or been given a poor, emaciated littleburro that was on his last legs. The burro evidently did not want to gowith its new owner, who pulled on a halter and then viciously swung theend of the rope to make welts on the worn and scarred back.

If there was one thing that Diane Sampson could not bear it was tosee an animal in pain. She passionately loved horses, and hated thesight of a spur or whip.

When we saw the man beating the little burro she cried out tome:

"Make the brute stop!"

I might have made a move had I not on the instant seen Steeleheaving into sight round the corner.

Just then the fellow, whom I now recognized to be a despicablecharacter named Andrews, began to bestow heavy and brutal kicks uponthe body of the little burro. These kicks sounded deep, hollow, almostlike the boom of a drum.

The burro uttered the strangest sound I ever heard issue from anybeast and it dropped in its tracks with jerking legs that told anyhorseman what had happened. Steele saw the last swings of Andrews'heavy boot. He yelled. It was a sharp yell that would have made anyonestart. But it came too late, for the burro had dropped.

Steele knocked over several of the jeering men to get to Andrews. Hekicked the fellow's feet from under him, sending him hard to theground.

Then Steele picked up the end of the halter and began to swing itpowerfully. Resounding smacks mingled with hoarse bellows of fury andpain. Andrews flopped here and there, trying to arise, but every timethe heavy knotted halter beat him down.

Presently Steele stopped. Andrews rose right in front of the Ranger,and there, like the madman he was, he went for his gun.

But it scarcely leaped from its holster when Steele's swift handintercepted it. Steele clutched Andrews' arm.

Then came a wrench, a cracking of bones, a scream of agony.

The gun dropped into the dust; and in a moment of wrestling furyAndrews, broken, beaten down, just able to moan, lay beside it.

Steele, so cool and dark for a man who had acted with suchpassionate swiftness, faced the others as if to dare them to move. Theyneither moved nor spoke, and then he strode away.

Miss Sampson did not speak a word while we were riding the rest ofthe way home, but she was strangely white of face and dark of eye.Sally could not speak fast enough to say all she felt.

And I, of course, had my measure of feelings. One of them was thatas sure as the sun rose and set it was written that Diane Sampson wasto love Vaughn Steele.

I could not read her mind, but I had a mind of my own.

How could any woman, seeing this maligned and menaced Ranger, whoselife was in danger every moment he spent on the streets, in the lightof his action on behalf of a poor little beast, help but wonder andbrood over the magnificent height he might reach if he hadlove—passion—a woman for his inspiration?

It was the day after this incident that, as Sally, Diane, and I wereriding homeward on the road from Sampson, I caught sight of a group ofdark horses and riders swiftly catching up with us.

We were on the main road, in plain sight of town and passing byranches; nevertheless, I did not like the looks of the horsemen andgrew uneasy. Still, I scarcely thought it needful to race our horsesjust to reach town a little ahead of these strangers.

Accordingly, they soon caught up with us.

They were five in number, all dark-faced except one, dark-clad andsuperbly mounted on dark bays and blacks. They had no pack animals and,for that matter, carried no packs at all.

Four of them, at a swinging canter, passed us, and the fifth pulledhis horse to suit our pace and fell in between Sally and me.

"Good day," he said pleasantly to me. "Don't mind my ridin' in withyou-all, I hope?"

Considering his pleasant approach, I could not but be civil.

He was a singularly handsome fellow, at a quick glance, under fortyyears, with curly, blond hair, almost gold, a skin very fair for thatcountry, and the keenest, clearest, boldest blue eyes I had ever seenin a man.

"You're Russ, I reckon," he said. "Some of my men have seen youridin' round with Sampson's girls. I'm Jack Blome."

He did not speak that name with any flaunt or flourish. He merelystated it.

Blome, the rustler! I grew tight all over.

Still, manifestly there was nothing for me to do but return hispleasantry. I really felt less uneasiness after he had made himselfknown to me. And without any awkwardness, I introduced him to thegirls.

He took off his sombrero and made gallant bows to both.

Miss Sampson had heard of him and his record, and she could not helpa paleness, a shrinking, which, however, he did not appear to notice.Sally had been dying to meet a real rustler, and here he was, a veryprince of rascals.

But I gathered that she would require a little time before she couldbe natural. Blome seemed to have more of an eye for Sally than forDiane. "Do you like Pecos?" he asked Sally.

"Out here? Oh, yes, indeed!" she replied.

"Like ridin'?"

"I love horses."

Like almost every man who made Sally's acquaintance, he hit upon thesubject best calculated to make her interesting to free-riding, outdoorWestern men.

That he loved a thoroughbred horse himself was plain. He spokenaturally to Sally with interest, just as I had upon first meeting her,and he might not have been Jack Blome, for all the indication he gaveof the fact in his talk.

But the look of the man was different. He was a desperado, one ofthe dashing, reckless kind—more famous along the Pecos and RioGrande than more really desperate men. His attire proclaimed a vanityseldom seen in any Westerner except of that unusual brand, yet it wasneither gaudy or showy.

One had to be close to Blome to see the silk, the velvet, the gold,the fine leather. When I envied a man's spurs then they were indeedworth coveting.

Blome had a short rifle and a gun in saddle-sheaths. My sharp eye,running over him, caught a row of notches on the bone handle of the bigColt he packed.

It was then that the marshal, the Ranger in me, went hot under thecollar. The custom that desperadoes and gun-fighters had of cutting anotch on their guns for every man killed was one of which the meremention made my gorge rise.

At the edge of town Blome doffed his sombrero again, said"Adios," and rode on ahead of us. And it was then I was hard putto it to keep track of the queries, exclamations, and other wild talkof two very much excited young ladies. I wanted to think; Ineeded to think.

"Wasn't he lovely? Oh, I could adore him!" rapturously uttered MissSally Langdon several times, to my ultimate disgust.

Also, after Blome had ridden out of sight, Miss Sampson lost theevident effect of his sinister presence, and she joined Miss Langdon inpaying the rustler compliments, too. Perhaps my irritation was anindication of the quick and subtle shifting of my mind to harsherthought.

"Jack Blome!" I broke in upon their adulations. "Rustler and gunman.Did you see the notches on his gun? Every notch for a man he's killed!For weeks reports have come to Linrock that soon as he could get roundto it he'd ride down and rid the community of that bothersome fellow,that Texas Ranger! He's come to kill Vaughn Steele!"

Chapter 7

DIANE AND VAUGHN

Then as gloom descended on me with my uttered thought, my heartsmote me at Sally's broken: "Oh, Russ! No! No!" Diane Sampson bentdark, shocked eyes upon the hill and ranch in front of her; but theywere sightless, they looked into space and eternity, and in them I readthe truth suddenly and cruelly revealed to her—she lovedSteele!

I found it impossible to leave Miss Sampson with the impression Ihad given. My own mood fitted a kind of ruthless pleasure in seeing hersuffer through love as I had intimation I was to suffer.

But now, when my strange desire that she should love Steele had itsfulfilment, and my fiendish subtleties to that end had been crownedwith success, I was confounded in pity and the enormity of my crime.For it had been a crime to make, or help to make, this noble andbeautiful woman love a Ranger, the enemy of her father, and surely theauthor of her coming misery. I felt shocked at my work. I tried to hangan excuse on my old motive that through her love we might all be saved.When it was too late, however, I found that this motive was wrong andperhaps without warrant.

We rode home in silence. Miss Sampson, contrary to her usual customof riding to the corrals or the porch, dismounted at a path leading inamong the trees and flowers. "I want to rest, to think before I go in,"she said.

Sally accompanied me to the corrals. As our horses stopped at thegate I turned to find confirmation of my fears in Sally's wet eyes.

"Russ," she said, "it's worse than we thought."

"Worse? I should say so," I replied.

"It'll about kill her. She never cared that way for any man. Whenthe Sampson women love, they love."

"Well, you're lucky to be a Langdon," I retorted bitterly.

"I'm Sampson enough to be unhappy," she flashed back at me, "and I'mLangdon enough to have some sense. You haven't any sense or kindness,either. Why'd you want to blurt out that Jack Blome was here to killSteele?"

"I'm ashamed, Sally," I returned, with hanging head. "I've been abrute. I've wanted her to love Steele. I thought I had a reason, butnow it seems silly. Just now I wanted to see how much she did care.

"Sally, the other day you said misery loved company. That's thetrouble. I'm sore—bitter. I'm like a sick coyote that snaps ateverything. I've wanted you to go into the very depths of despair. ButI couldn't send you. So I took out my spite on poor Miss Sampson. Itwas a damn unmanly thing for me to do."

"Oh, it's not so bad as all that. But you might have been lessabrupt. Russ, you seem to take an—an awful tragic view ofyour—your own case."

"Tragic? Hah!" I cried like the villain in the play. "What other waycould I look at it? I tell you I love you so I can't sleep or doanything."

"That's not tragic. When you've no chance,then that'stragic."

Sally, as swiftly as she had blushed, could change into that deadlysweet mood. She did both now. She seemed warm, softened, agitated. Howcould this be anything but sincere? I felt myself slipping; so Ilaughed harshly.

"Chance! I've no chance on earth."

"Try!" she whispered.

But I caught myself in time. Then the shock of bitter renunciationmade it easy for me to simulate anger.

"You promised not to—not to—" I began, choking. My voicewas hoarse and it broke, matters surely far removed from pretense.

I had seen Sally Langdon in varying degrees of emotion, but never asshe appeared now. She was pale and she trembled a little. If it was notfright, then I could not tell what it was. But there were contritionand earnestness about her, too.

"Russ, I know. I promised not to—to tease—to tempt youanymore," she faltered. "I've broken it. I'm ashamed. I haven't playedthe game square. But I couldn't—I can't help myself. I've gotsense enough not to engage myself to you, but I can't keep from lovingyou. I can't let you alone. There—if you want it on the square!What's more, I'll go on as I have done unless you keep away from me. Idon't care what I deserve—what you do—I will—Iwill!"

She had begun falteringly and she ended passionately.

Somehow I kept my head, even though my heart pounded like a hammerand the blood drummed in my ears. It was the thought of Steele thatsaved me. But I felt cold at the narrow margin. I had reached a point,I feared, where a kiss, one touch from this bewildering creature offire and change and sweetness would make me put her before Steele andmy duty.

"Sally, if you dare break your promise again, you'll wish you neverhad been born," I said with all the fierceness at my command.

"I wish that now. And you can't bluff me, Mr. Gambler. I may have nohand to play, but you can't make me lay it down," she replied.

Something told me Sally Langdon was finding herself; that presentlyI could not frighten her, and then—then I would be doomed.

"Why, if I got drunk, I might do anything," I said cool and hardnow. "Cut off your beautiful chestnut hair for bracelets for myarms."

Sally laughed, but she was still white. She was indeed findingherself. "If you ever get drunk again you can't kiss me any more. Andif you don't—you can."

I felt myself shake and, with all of the iron will I could assert, Ihid from her the sweetness of this thing that was my weakness and herstrength.

"I might lasso you from my horse, drag you through the cactus," Iadded with the implacability of an Apache.

"Russ!" she cried. Something in this last ridiculous threat hadfound a vital mark. "After all, maybe those awful stories Joe Harpertold about you were true."

"They sure were," I declared with great relief. "And now to forgetourselves. I'm more than sorry I distressed Miss Sampson; more thansorry because what I said wasn't on the square. Blome, no doubt, hascome to Linrock after Steele. His intention is to kill him. I saidthat—let Miss Sampson think it all meant fatality to the Ranger.But, Sally, I don't believe that Blome can kill Steele any morethan—than you can."

"Why?" she asked; and she seemed eager, glad.

"Because he's not man enough. That's all, without details. You neednot worry; and I wish you'd go tell Miss Sampson—"

"Go yourself," interrupted Sally. "I think she's afraid of my eyes.But she won't fear you'd guess her secret.

"Go to her, Russ. Find some excuse to tell her. Say you thought itover, believed she'd be distressed about what might never happen.Go—and afterward pray for your sins, you queer, good-natured,love-meddling cowboy-devil, you!"

For once I had no retort ready for Sally. I hurried off as quicklyas I could walk in chaps and spurs.

I found Miss Sampson sitting on a bench in the shade of a tree. Herpallor and quiet composure told of the conquering and passing of thestorm. Always she had a smile for me, and now it smote me, for I in asense, had betrayed her.

"Miss Sampson," I began, awkwardly yet swiftly, "I—I got tothinking it over, and the idea struck me, maybe you felt bad about thisgun-fighter Blome coming down here to kill Steele. At first I imaginedyou felt sick just because there might be blood spilled. Then I thoughtyou've showed interest in Steele—naturally his kind of Rangerwork is bound to appeal to women—you might be sorry it couldn'tgo on, you might care."

"Russ, don't beat about the bush," she said interrupting myfloundering. "You know I care."

How wonderful her eyes were then—great dark, sad gulfs withthe soul of a woman at the bottom! Almost I loved her myself; I didlove her truth, the woman in her that scorned any subterfuge.

Instantly she inspired me to command over myself. "Listen," I said."Jack Blome has come here to meet Steele. There will be a fight. ButBlome can't kill Steele."

"How is that? Why can't he? You said this Blome was a killer of men.You spoke of notches on his gun. I've heard my father and my cousin,too, speak of Blome's record. He must be a terrible ruffian. If hisintent is evil, why will he fail in it?"

"Because, Miss Sampson, when it comes to the last word, Steele willbe on the lookout and Blome won't be quick enough on the draw to killhim. That's all."

"Quick enough on the draw? I understand, but I want to knowmore."

"I doubt if there's a man on the frontier to-day quick enough tokill Steele in an even break. That means a fair fight. This Blome isconceited. He'll make the meeting fair enough. It'll come off aboutlike this, Miss Sampson.

"Blome will send out his bluff—he'll begin to blow—tolook for Steele. But Steele will avoid him as long aspossible—perhaps altogether, though that's improbable. If they domeet, then Blome must force the issue. It's interesting to figure onthat. Steele affects men strangely. It's all very well for this Blometo rant about himself and to hunt Steele up. But the test'll come whenhe faces the Ranger. He never saw Steele. He doesn't know what he's upagainst. He knows Steele's reputation, but I don't mean that. I meanSteele in the flesh, his nerve, the something that's in his eyes.

"Now, when it comes to handling a gun the man doesn't breathe whohas anything on Steele. There was an outlaw, Duane, who might havekilled Steele, had they ever met. I'll tell you Duane's story some day.A girl saved him, made a Ranger of him, then got him to go far awayfrom Texas."

"That was wise. Indeed, I'd like to hear the story," she replied."Then, after all, Russ, in this dreadful part of Texas life, when manfaces man, it's all in the quickness of hand?"

"Absolutely. It's the draw. And Steele's a wonder. See here. Look atthis."

I stepped back and drew my gun.

"I didn't see how you did that," she said curiously. "Try itagain."

I complied, and still she was not quick enough of eye to see mydraw. Then I did it slowly, explaining to her the action of hand andthen of finger. She seemed fascinated, as a woman might have been bythe striking power of a rattlesnake.

"So men's lives depend on that! How horrible for me to beinterested—to ask about it—to watch you! But I'm out hereon the frontier now, caught somehow in its wildness, and I feel arelief, a gladness to know Vaughn Steele has the skill you claim. Thankyou, Russ."

She seemed about to dismiss me then, for she rose and half turnedaway. Then she hesitated. She had one hand at her breast, the other onthe bench. "Have you been with him—talked to him lately?" sheasked, and a faint rose tint came into her cheeks. But her eyes weresteady, dark, and deep, and peered through and far beyond me.

"Yes, I've met him a few times, around places."

"Did he ever speak of—of me?"

"Once or twice, and then as if he couldn't help it."

"What did he say?"

"Well, the last time he seemed hungry to hear something about you.He didn't exactly ask, but, all the same, he was begging. So I toldhim."

"What?"

"Oh, how you were dressed, how you looked, what you said, what youdid—all about you. Don't be offended with me, Miss Sampson. Itwas real charity. I talk too much. It's my weakness. Please don't beoffended."

She never heard my apology or my entreaty. There was a kind of gloryin her eyes. Looking at her, I found a dimness hazing my sight, andwhen I rubbed it away it came back.

"Then—what did he say?" This was whispered, almost shyly, andI could scarcely believe the proud Miss Sampson stood before me.

"Why, he flew into a fury, called me an—" Hastily I caughtmyself. "Well, he said if I wanted to talk to him any more not to speakof you. He was sure unreasonable."

"Russ—you think—you told me once—he—youthink he still—" She was not facing me at all now. She had herhead bent. Both hands were at her breast, and I saw it heave. Her cheekwas white as a flower, her neck darkly, richly red with mountingblood.

I understood. And I pitied her and hated myself and marveled at thisthing, love. It made another woman out of Diane Sampson. I couldscarcely comprehend that she was asking me, almost beseechingly, forfurther assurance of Steele's love. I knew nothing of women, but thisseemed strange. Then a thought sent the blood chilling back to myheart. Had Diane Sampson guessed the guilt of her father? Was it morefor his sake than for her own that she hoped—for surely shehoped—that Steele loved her?

Here was more mystery, more food for reflection. Only a powerfulmotive or a self-leveling love could have made a woman of DianeSampson's pride ask such a question. Whatever her reason, I determinedto assure her, once and forever, what I knew to be true. Accordingly, Itold her in unforgettable words, with my own regard for her and lovefor Sally filling my voice with emotion, how I could see that Steeleloved her, how madly he was destined to love her, how terribly hardthat was going to make his work in Linrock.

There was a stillness about her then, a light on her face, whichbrought to my mind thought of Sally when I had asked her to marryme.

"Russ, I beg you—bring us together," said Miss Sampson. "Bringabout a meeting. You are my friend." Then she went swiftly away throughthe flowers, leaving me there, thrilled to my soul at her betrayal ofherself, ready to die in her service, yet cursing the fatal day VaughnSteele had chosen me for his comrade in this tragic game.

That evening in the girls' sitting-room, where they invited me, Iwas led into a discourse upon the gun-fighters, outlaws, desperadoes,and bad men of the frontier. Miss Sampson and Sally had been, beforetheir arrival in Texas, as ignorant of such characters as any girls inthe North or East. They were now peculiarly interested, fascinated, andat the same time repelled.

Miss Sampson must have placed the Rangers in one of those classes,somewhat as Governor Smith had, and her father, too. Sally thought shewas in love with a cowboy whom she had been led to believe had as bad arecord as any. They were certainly a most persuasive and appreciativeaudience. So as it was in regard to horses, if I knew any subject well,it was this one of dangerous and bad men. Texas, and the wholedeveloping Southwest, was full of such characters. It was a verydifficult thing to distinguish between fighters who were bad men andfighters who were good men. However, it was no difficult thing for oneof my calling to tell the difference between a real bad man and theimitation "four-flush."

Then I told the girls the story of Buck Duane, famous outlaw andRanger. And I narrated the histories of Murrell, most terrible ofblood-spillers ever known to Texas; of Hardin, whose long career ofcrime ended in the main street in Huntsville when he faced Buck Duane;of Sandobal, the Mexican terror; of Cheseldine, Bland, Alloway, andother outlaws of the Rio Grande; of King Fisher and Thompson andSterrett, all still living and still busy adding notches to theirguns.

I ended my little talk by telling the story of Amos Clark, acriminal of a higher type than most bad men, yet infinitely moredangerous because of that. He was a Southerner of good family. Afterthe war he went to Dimmick County and there developed and prosperedwith the country. He became the most influential citizen of his townand the richest in that section. He held offices. He was energetic inhis opposition to rustlers and outlaws. He was held in high esteem byhis countrymen. But this Amos Clark was the leader of a band ofrustlers, highwaymen, and murderers.

Captain Neal and some of his Rangers ferreted out Clark's relationto this lawless gang, and in the end caught him red-handed. He wasarrested and eventually hanged. His case was unusual, and it furnishedan example of what was possible in that wild country. Clark had a sonwho was honest and a wife whom he dearly loved, both of whom had beenutterly ignorant of the other and wicked side of life. I told this laststory deliberately, yet with some misgivings. I wanted to see—Iconvinced myself it was needful for me to see—if Miss Sampson hadany suspicion of her father. To look into her face then was no easytask. But when I did I experienced a shock, though not exactly the kindI had prepared myself for.

She knew something; maybe she knew actually more than Steele or I;still, if it were a crime, she had a marvelous control over her truefeelings.

Jack Blome and his men had been in Linrock for several days; oldSnecker and his son Bo had reappeared, and other hard-lookingcustomers, new to me if not to Linrock. These helped to create acharged and waiting atmosphere. The saloons did unusual business andwere never closed. Respectable citizens of the town were awakened inthe early dawn by rowdies carousing in the streets.

Steele kept pretty closely under cover. He did not entertain theopinion, nor did I, that the first time he walked down the street hewould be a target for Blome and his gang. Things seldom happened thatway, and when they did happen so it was more accident than design.Blome was setting the stage for his little drama.

Meanwhile Steele was not idle. He told me he had met Jim Hoden,Morton and Zimmer, and that these men had approached others of likecharacter; a secret club had been formed and all the members were readyfor action. Steele also told me that he had spent hours at nightwatching the house where George Wright stayed when he was not up atSampson's. Wright had almost recovered from the injury to his arm, buthe still remained most of the time indoors. At night he was visited, orat least his house was, by strange men who were swift, stealthy,mysterious—all men who formerly would not have been friends orneighbors.

Steele had not been able to recognize any of these night visitors,and he did not think the time was ripe for a bold holding up of one ofthem.

Jim Hoden had forcibly declared and stated that some deviltry wasafoot, something vastly different from Blome's open intention ofmeeting the Ranger.

Hoden was right. Not twenty-four hours after his last talk withSteele, in which he advised quick action, he was found behind thelittle room of his restaurant, with a bullet hole in his breast, dead.No one could be found who had heard a shot.

It had been deliberate murder, for behind the bar had been left apiece of paper rudely scrawled with a pencil:

"All friends of Ranger Steele look for the same."

Later that day I met Steele at Hoden's and was with him when helooked at the body and the written message which spoke so tersely ofthe enmity toward him. We left there together, and I hoped Steele wouldlet me stay with him from that moment.

"Russ, it's all in the dark," he said. "I feel Wright's hand inthis."

I agreed. "I remember his face at Hoden's that day you winged him.Because Jim swore you were wrong not to kill instead of wing him. Youwere wrong."

"No, Russ, I never let feeling run wild with my head. We can't provea thing on Wright."

"Come on; let's hunt him up. I'll bet I can accuse him and make himshow his hand. Come on!"

That Steele found me hard to resist was all the satisfaction I gotfor the anger and desire to avenge Jim Hoden that consumed me.

"Son, you'll have your belly full of trouble soon enough," repliedSteele. "Hold yourself in. Wait. Try to keep your eye on Sampson atnight. See if anyone visits him. Spy on him. I'll watch Wright."

"Don't you think you'd do well to keep out of town, especially whenyou sleep?"

"Sure. I've got blankets out in the brush, and I go there everynight late and leave before daylight. But I keep a light burning in the'dobe house and make it look as if I were there."

"Good. That worried me. Now, what's this murder of Jim Hoden goingto do to Morton, Zimmer, and their crowd?"

"Russ, they've all got blood in their eyes. This'll make them seered. I've only to say the word and we'll have all the backing weneed."

"Have you run into Blome?"

"Once. I was across the street. He came out of the Hope So with someof his gang. They lined up and watched me. But I went right on."

"He's here looking for trouble, Steele."

"Yes; and he'd have found it before this if I just knew his relationto Sampson and Wright."

"Do you think Blome a dangerous man to meet?"

"Hardly. He's a genuine bad man, but for all that he's not much tobe feared. If he were quietly keeping away from trouble, then that'd bedifferent. Blome will probably die in his boots, thinking he's theworst man and the quickest one on the draw in the West."

That was conclusive enough for me. The little shadow of worry thathad haunted me in spite of my confidence vanished entirely.

"Russ, for the present help me do something for Jim Hoden's family,"went on Steele. "His wife's in bad shape. She's not a strong woman.There are a lot of kids, and you know Jim Hoden was poor. She told meher neighbors would keep shy of her now. They'd be afraid. Oh, it'stough! But we can put Jim away decently and help his family."

Several days after this talk with Steele I took Miss Sampson andSally out to see Jim Hoden's wife and children. I knew Steele would bethere that afternoon, but I did not mention this fact to Miss Sampson.We rode down to the little adobe house which belonged to Mrs. Hoden'speople, and where Steele and I had moved her and the children after JimHoden's funeral. The house was small, but comfortable, and the yardgreen and shady.

If this poor wife and mother had not been utterly forsaken byneighbors and friends it certainly appeared so, for to my knowledge noone besides Steele and me visited her. Miss Sampson had packed a bigbasket full of good things to eat, and I carried this in front of me onthe pommel as we rode. We hitched our horses to the fence and wentround to the back of the house. There was a little porch with a stoneflooring, and here several children were playing. The door stood open.At my knock Mrs. Hoden bade me come in. Evidently Steele was not there,so I went in with the girls.

"Mrs. Hoden, I've brought Miss Sampson and her cousin to see you," Isaid cheerfully.

The little room was not very light, there being only one window andthe door; but Mrs. Hoden could be seen plainly enough as she lay,hollow-cheeked and haggard, on a bed. Once she had evidently been awoman of some comeliness. The ravages of trouble and grief were thereto read in her worn face; it had not, however, any of the hard andbitter lines that had characterized her husband's.

I wondered, considering that Sampson had ruined Hoden, how Mrs.Hoden was going to regard the daughter of an enemy.

"So you're Roger Sampson's girl?" queried the woman, with her brightblack eyes fixed on her visitor.

"Yes," replied Miss Sampson, simply. "This is my cousin, SallyLangdon. We've come to nurse you, take care of the children, help youin any way you'll let us."

There was a long silence.

"Well, you look a little like Sampson," finally said Mrs. Hoden,"but you're not at all like him. You must take after your mother. MissSampson, I don't know if I can—if Iought to acceptanything from you. Your father ruined my husband."

"Yes, I know," replied the girl sadly. "That's all the more reasonyou should let me help you. Pray don't refuse. It will—mean somuch to me."

If this poor, stricken woman had any resentment it speedily meltedin the warmth and sweetness of Miss Sampson's manner. My idea was thatthe impression of Diane Sampson's beauty was always swiftly succeededby that of her generosity and nobility. At any rate, she had startedwell with Mrs. Hoden, and no sooner had she begun to talk to thechildren than both they and the mother were won.

The opening of that big basket was an event. Poor, starved littlebeggars! I went out on the porch to get away from them. My feelingsseemed too easily aroused. Hard indeed would it have gone with JimHoden's slayer if I could have laid my eyes on him then. However, MissSampson and Sally, after the nature of tender and practical girls, didnot appear to take the sad situation to heart. The havoc had alreadybeen wrought in that household. The needs now were cheerfulness,kindness, help, action, and these the girls furnished with a spiritthat did me good.

"Mrs. Hoden, who dressed this baby?" presently asked Miss Sampson. Ipeeped in to see a dilapidated youngster on her knees. That sight, ifany other was needed, completed my full and splendid estimate of DianeSampson.

"Mr. Steele," replied Mrs. Hoden.

"Mr. Steele!" exclaimed Miss Sampson.

"Yes; he's taken care of us all since—since—" Mrs. Hodenchoked.

"Oh, so you've had no help but his," replied Miss Sampson hastily."No women? Too bad! I'll send someone, Mrs. Hoden, and I'll comemyself."

"It'll be good of you," went on the older woman. "You see, Jim hadfew friends—that is, right in town. And they've been afraid tohelp us—afraid they'd get what poor Jim—"

"That's awful!" burst out Miss Sampson passionately. "A brave lot offriends! Mrs. Hoden, don't you worry any more. We'll take care of you.Here, Sally help me. Whatever is the matter with baby's dress?"Manifestly Miss Sampson had some difficulty in subduing heremotion.

"Why, it's on hind side before," declared Sally. "I guess Mr. Steelehasn't dressed many babies."

"He did the best he could," said Mrs. Hoden. "Lord only knows whatwould have become of us! He brought your cowboy, Russ, who's been verygood too."

"Mr. Steele, then is—is something more than a Ranger?" queriedMiss Sampson, with a little break in her voice.

"He's more than I can tell," replied Mrs. Hoden. "He buried Jim. Hepaid our debts. He fetched us here. He bought food for us. He cookedfor us and fed us. He washed and dressed the baby. He sat with me thefirst two nights after Jim's death, when I thought I'd die myself.

"He's so kind, so gentle, so patient. He has kept me up just bybeing near. Sometimes I'd wake from a doze an', seeing him there, I'dknow how false were all these tales Jim heard about him and believed atfirst. Why, he plays with the children just—just like any goodman might. When he has the baby up I just can't believe he's a bloodygunman, as they say.

"He's good, but he isn't happy. He has such sad eyes. He looks faroff sometimes when the children climb round him. They love him. I thinkhe must have loved some woman. His life is sad. Nobody need tellme—he sees the good in things. Once he said somebody had to be aRanger. Well, I say, thank God for a Ranger like him!"

After that there was a long silence in the little room, broken onlyby the cooing of the baby. I did not dare to peep in at Miss Sampsonthen.

Somehow I expected Steele to arrive at that moment, and his step didnot surprise me. He came round the corner as he always turned anycorner, quick, alert, with his hand down. If I had been an enemywaiting there with a gun I would have needed to hurry. Steele wasinstinctively and habitually on the defense.

"Hello, son! How are Mrs. Hoden and the youngster to-day?" heasked.

"Hello yourself! Why, they're doing fine! I brought the girlsdown—"

Then in the semishadow of the room, across Mrs. Hoden's bed, DianeSampson and Steele faced each other.

That was a moment! Having seen her face then I would not have missedsight of it for anything I could name; never so long as memory remainedwith me would I forget. She did not speak. Sally, however, bowed andspoke to the Ranger. Steele, after the first start, showed no unusualfeeling. He greeted both girls pleasantly.

"Russ, that was thoughtful of you," he said. "It was womankindneeded here. I could do so little—Mrs. Hoden, you look betterto-day. I'm glad. And here's baby, all clean and white. Baby, what atime I had trying to puzzle out the way your clothes went on! Well,Mrs. Hoden, didn't I tell you friends would come? So will the brighterside."

"Yes; I've more faith than I had," replied Mrs. Hoden. "RogerSampson's daughter has come to me. There for a while after Jim's deathI thought I'd sink. We have nothing. How could I ever take care of mylittle ones? But I'm gaining courage."

"Mrs. Hoden, do not distress yourself any more," said Miss Sampson."I shall see you are well cared for. I promise you."

"Miss Sampson, that's fine!" exclaimed Steele, with a ring in hisvoice. "It's what I'd have hoped—expected of you..."

It must have been sweet praise to her, for the whiteness of her faceburned in a beautiful blush.

"And it's good of you, too, Miss Langdon, to come," added Steele."Let me thank you both. I'm glad I have you girls as allies in part ofmy lonely task here. More than glad, for the sake of this good womanand the little ones. But both of you be careful. Don't stir withoutRuss. There's risk. And now I'll be going. Good-by. Mrs. Hoden, I'lldrop in again to-night. Good-by!"

Steele backed to the door, and I slipped out before him.

"Mr. Steele—wait!" called Miss Sampson as he stepped out. Heuttered a little sound like a hiss or a gasp or an intake of breath, Idid not know what; and then the incomprehensible fellow bestowed a kickupon me that I thought about broke my leg. But I understood and gamelyendured the pain. Then we were looking at Diane Sampson. She was whiteand wonderful. She stepped out of the door, close to Steele. She didnot see me; she cared nothing for my presence. All the world would nothave mattered to her then.

"I have wronged you!" she said impulsively.

Looking on, I seemed to see or feel some slow, mighty forcegathering in Steele to meet this ordeal. Then he appeared asalways—yet, to me, how different!

"Miss Sampson, how can you say that?" he returned.

"I believed what my father and George Wright said aboutyou—that bloody, despicable record! Now I donot believe.I see—I wronged you."

"You make me very glad when you tell me this. It was hard to haveyou think so ill of me. But, Miss Sampson, please don't speak ofwronging me. I am a Ranger, and much said of me is true. My duty ishard on others—sometimes on those who are innocent, alas! But Godknows that duty is hard, too, on me."

"I did wrong you. In thought—in word. I ordered you from myhome as if you were indeed what they called you. But I was deceived. Isee my error. If you entered my home again I would think it an honor.I—"

"Please—please don't, Miss Sampson," interrupted poor Steele.I could see the gray beneath his bronze and something that was likegold deep in his eyes.

"But, sir, my conscience flays me," she went on. There was no othersound like her voice. If I was all distraught with emotion, what mustSteele have been? "I make amends. Will you take my hand? Will youforgive me?" She gave it royally, while the other was there pressing ather breast.

Steele took the proffered hand and held it, and did not release it.What else could he have done? But he could not speak. Then it seemed todawn upon Steele there was more behind this white, sweet, nobleintensity of her than just making amends for a fancied or real wrong.For myself, I thought the man did not live on earth who could haveresisted her then. And there was resistance; I felt it; she must havefelt it. It was poor Steele's hard fate to fight the charm andeloquence and sweetness of this woman when, for some reason unknown tohim, and only guessed at by me, she was burning with all the fire andpassion of her soul.

"Mr. Steele, I honor you for your goodness to this unfortunatewoman," she said, and now her speech came swiftly. "When she was allalone and helpless you were her friend. It was the deed of a man. ButMrs. Hoden isn't the only unfortunate woman in the world. I, too, amunfortunate. Ah, how I may soon need a friend!

"Vaughn Steele, the man whom I need most to be my friend—wantmost to lean upon—is the one whose duty is to stab me to theheart, to ruin me. You! Will you be my friend? If you knew DianeSampson you would know she would never ask you to be false to yourduty. Be true to us both! I'm so alone—no one but Sally loves me.I'll need a friend soon—soon.

"Oh, I know—I know what you'll find out sooner or later. Iknownow! I want to help you. Let us save life, if not honor.Must I stand alone—all alone? Will you—will yoube—"

Her voice failed. She was swaying toward Steele. I expected to seehis arms spread wide and enfold her in their embrace.

"Diane Sampson, I love you!" whispered Steele hoarsely, white now tohis lips. "I must be true to my duty. But if I can't be true to you,then by God, I want no more of life!" He kissed her hand and rushedaway.

She stood a moment as if blindly watching the place where he hadvanished, and then as a sister might have turned to a brother, shereached for me.

Chapter 8

THE EAVESDROPPER

We silently rode home in the gathering dusk. Miss Sampson dismountedat the porch, but Sally went on with me to the corrals. I felt heavyand somber, as if a catastrophe was near at hand.

"Help me down," said Sally. Her voice was low and tremulous.

"Sally, did you hear what Miss Sampson said to Steele?" I asked.

"A little, here and there. I heard Steele tell her he loved her.Isn't this a terrible mix?"

"It sure is. Did you hear—do you understand why she appealedto Steele, asked him to be her friend?"

"Did she? No, I didn't hear that. I heard her say she had wrongedhim. Then I tried not to hear any more. Tell me."

"No Sally; it's not my secret. I wish I could dosomething—help them somehow. Yes, it's sure a terrible mix. Idon't care so much about myself."

"Nor me," Sally retorted.

"You! Oh, you're only a shallow spoiled child! You'd cease to loveanything the moment you won it. And I—well, I'm no good, you say.But their love! My God, what a tragedy! You've no idea, Sally. They'vehardly spoken to each other, yet are ready to be overwhelmed."

Sally sat so still and silent that I thought I had angered oroffended her. But I did not care much, one way or another. Hercoquettish fancy for me and my own trouble had sunk intoinsignificance. I did not look up at her, though she was so close Icould feel her little, restless foot touching me. The horses in thecorrals were trooping up to the bars. Dusk had about given place tonight, although in the west a broad flare of golden sky showed brightbehind dark mountains.

"So I say you're no good?" asked Sally after a long silence. Thenher voice and the way her hand stole to my shoulder should have beenwarning for me. But it was not, or I did not care.

"Yes, you said that, didn't you?" I replied absently.

"I can change my mind, can't I? Maybe you're only wild and recklesswhen you drink. Mrs. Hoden said such nice things about you. They mademe feel so good."

I had no reply for that and still did not look up at her. I heardher swing herself around in the saddle. "Lift me down," she said.

Perhaps at any other time I would have remarked that this requestwas rather unusual, considering the fact that she was very light andsure of action, extremely proud of it, and likely to be insulted by anoffer of assistance. But my spirit was dead. I reached for her hands,but they eluded mine, slipped up my arms as she came sliding out of thesaddle, and then her face was very close to mine. "Russ!" shewhispered. It was torment, wistfulness, uncertainty, and yet tendernessall in one little whisper. It caught me off guard or indifferent toconsequences. So I kissed her, without passion, with all regret andsadness. She uttered a little cry that might have been mingledexultation and remorse for her victory and her broken faith. Certainlythe instant I kissed her she remembered the latter. She trembledagainst me, and leaving unsaid something she had meant to say, sheslipped out of my arms and ran. She assuredly was frightened, and Ithought it just as well that she was.

Presently she disappeared in the darkness and then the swift littleclinks of her spurs ceased. I laughed somewhat ruefully and hoped shewould be satisfied. Then I put away the horses and went in for mysupper.

After supper I noisily bustled around my room, and soon stole outfor my usual evening's spying. The night was dark, without starlight,and the stiff wind rustled the leaves and tore through the vines on theold house. The fact that I had seen and heard so little during myconstant vigilance did not make me careless or the task monotonous. Ihad so much to think about that sometimes I sat in one place for hoursand never knew where the time went.

This night, the very first thing, I heard Wright's well-knownfootsteps, and I saw Sampson's door open, flashing a broad bar of lightinto the darkness. Wright crossed the threshold, the door closed, andall was dark again outside. Not a ray of light escaped from the window.This was the first visit of Wright for a considerable stretch of time.Little doubt there was that his talk with Sampson would be interestingto me.

I tiptoed to the door and listened, but I could hear only a murmurof voices. Besides, that position was too risky. I went round thecorner of the house. Some time before I had made a discovery that Iimagined would be valuable to me. This side of the big adobe house wasof much older construction than the back and larger part. There was anarrow passage about a foot wide between the old and new walls, andthis ran from the outside through to the patio. I had discovered theentrance by accident, as it was concealed by vines and shrubbery. Icrawled in there, upon an opportune occasion, with the intention ofboring a small hole through the adobe bricks. But it was not necessaryto do that, for the wall was cracked; and in one place I could see intoSampson's room. This passage now afforded me my opportunity, and Idecided to avail myself of it in spite of the very great danger.Crawling on my hands and knees very stealthily, I got under theshrubbery to the entrance of the passage. In the blackness a faintstreak of light showed the location of the crack in the wall.

I had to slip in sidewise. It was a tight squeeze, but I enteredwithout the slightest sound. If my position were to be betrayed itwould not be from noise. As I progressed the passage grew a very littlewider in that direction, and this fact gave rise to the thought that incase of a necessary and hurried exit I would do best by working towardthe patio. It seemed a good deal of time was consumed in reaching myvantage-point. When I did get there the crack was a foot over my head.If I had only been tall like Steele! There was nothing to do but findtoe-holes in the crumbling walls, and by bracing knees on one side,back against the other, hold myself up to the crack.

Once with my eye there I did not care what risk I ran. Sampsonappeared disturbed; he sat stroking his mustache; his brow was clouded.Wright's face seemed darker, more sullen, yet lighted by someindomitable resolve.

"We'll settle both deals to-night," Wright was saying. "That's whatI came for. That's why I've asked Snecker and Blome to be here."

"But suppose I don't choose to talk here?" protested Sampsonimpatiently. "I never before made my house a place to—"

"We've waited long enough. This place's as good as any. You've lostyour nerve since that Ranger hit the town. First, now, will you giveDiane to me?"

"George, you talk like a spoiled boy. Give Diane to you! Why, she'sa woman and I'm finding out that she's got a mind of her own. I toldyou I was willing for her to marry you. I tried to persuade her. ButDiane hasn't any use for you now. She liked you at first; but now shedoesn't. So what can I do?"

"You can make her marry me," replied Wright.

"Make that girl do what she doesn't want to? It couldn't be done,even if I tried. And I don't believe I'll try. I haven't the highestopinion of you as a prospective son-in-law, George. But if Diane lovedyou I would consent. We'd all go away together before this damnedmiserable business is out. Then she'd never know. And maybe you mightbe more like you used to be before the West ruined you. But as mattersstand you fight your own game with her; and I'll tell you now, you'lllose."

"What'd you want to let her come out here for?" demanded Wrighthotly. "It was a dead mistake. I've lost my head over her. I'll haveher or die. Don't you think if she was my wife I'd soon pull myselftogether? Since she came we've none of us been right. And the gang hasput up a holler. No, Sampson, we've got to settle things to-night."

"Well, we can settle what Diane's concerned in right now," repliedSampson, rising. "Come on; we'll go ask her. See where you stand."

They went out, leaving the door open. I dropped down to rest myselfand to wait. I would have liked to hear Miss Sampson's answer to him.But I could guess what it would be. Wright appeared to be all I hadthought of him, and I believed I was going to find out presently thathe was worse. Just then I wanted Steele as never before. Still, he wastoo big to worm his way into this place.

The men seemed to be absent a good while, though that feeling mighthave been occasioned by my interest and anxiety. Finally I heard heavysteps. Wright came in alone. He was leaden-faced, humiliated. Thensomething abject in him gave place to rage. He strode the room; hecursed.

Sampson returned, now appreciably calmer. I could not but decidethat he felt relief at the evident rejection of Wright's proposal."Don't fume about it, George," he said. "You see I can't help it. We'repretty wild out here, but I can't rope my daughter and give her to youas I would an unruly steer."

"Sampson, I canmake her marry me," declared Wrightthickly.

"How?"

"You know the hold I got on you—the deal that made you boss ofthis rustler gang?"

"It isn't likely I'd forget," replied Sampson grimly.

"I can go to Diane—tell her that—make her believe I'dtell it broadcast, tell this Ranger Steele, unless she'd marry me!"Wright spoke breathlessly, with haggard face and shadowed eyes. He hadno shame. He was simply in the grip of passion. Sampson gazed withdark, controlled fury at his relative. In that look I saw a strong,unscrupulous man fallen into evil ways, but still a man. It betrayedWright to be the wild and passionate weakling.

I seemed to see also how, during all the years of association, thisstrong man had upheld the weak one. But that time had gone forever,both in intent on Sampson's part and in possibility. Wright, like thegreat majority of evil and unrestrained men on the border, had reacheda point where influence was futile. Reason had degenerated. He saw onlyhimself.

"But, George, Diane's the one person on earth who must never knowI'm a rustler, a thief, a red-handed ruler of the worst gang on theborder," replied Sampson impressively.

George bowed his head at that, as if the significance had justoccurred to him. But he was not long at a loss. "She's going to find itout sooner or later. I tell you she knows now there's something wrongout here. She's got eyes. And that meddling cowboy of hers is smarterthan you give him credit for. They're always together. You'll regretthe day Russ ever straddled a horse on this ranch. Mark what Isay."

"Diane's changed, I know; but she hasn't any idea yet that herdaddy's a boss rustler. Diane's concerned about what she calls my dutyas mayor. Also I think she's not satisfied with my explanations inregard to certain property."

Wright halted in his restless walk and leaned against the stonemantelpiece. He squared himself as if this was his last stand. Helooked desperate, but on the moment showed an absence of his usualnervous excitement. "Sampson, that may well be true," he said. "Nodoubt all you say is true. But it doesn't help me. I want the girl. IfI don't get her I reckon we'll all go to hell!" He might have meantanything, probably meant the worst. He certainly had something more inmind.

Sampson gave a slight start, barely perceptible like the twitch ofan awakening tiger. He sat there, head down, stroking his mustache.Almost I saw his thought. I had long experience in reading men understress of such emotion. I had no means to vindicate my judgment, but myconviction was that Sampson right then and there decided that the thingto do was to kill Wright. For my part, I wondered that he had not cometo such a conclusion before. Not improbably the advent of his daughterhad put Sampson in conflict with himself.

Suddenly he threw off a somber cast of countenance and began totalk. He talked swiftly, persuasively, yet I imagined he was talking tosmooth Wright's passion for the moment. Wright no more caught thefateful significance of a line crossed, a limit reached, a decreedecided, than if he had not been present. He was obsessed withhimself.

How, I wondered, had a man of his mind ever lived so long and goneso far among the exacting conditions of Pecos County? The answer wasperhaps, that Sampson had guided him, upheld him, protected him. Thecoming of Diane Sampson had been the entering wedge of dissension.

"You're too impatient," concluded Sampson. "You'll ruin any chanceof happiness if you rush Diane. She might be won. If you told her who Iam she'd hate you forever. She might marry you to save me, but she'dhate you.

"That isn't the way. Wait. Play for time. Be different with her. Cutout your drinking. She despises that. Let's plan to sell out here,stock, ranch, property, and leave the country. Then you'd have a showwith her."

"I told you we've got to stick," growled Wright. "The gang won'tstand for our going. It can't be done unless you want to sacrificeeverything."

"You mean double-cross the men? Go without their knowing? Leave themhere to face whatever comes?"

"I mean just that."

"I'm bad enough, but not that bad," returned Sampson. "If I can'tget the gang to let me off I'll stay and face the music. All the same,Wright, did it ever strike you that most of our deals the last fewyears have been yours?"

"Yes. If I hadn't rung them in, there wouldn't have been any. You'vehad cold feet, Owens says, especially since this Ranger Steele has beenhere."

"Well, call it cold feet if you like. But I call it sense. Wereached our limit long ago. We began by rustling a few cattle at a timewhen rustling was laughed at. But as our greed grew so did ourboldness. Then came the gang, the regular trips, and one thing andanother till, before we knew it—beforeI knew it, we hadshady deals, hold-ups, and murders on our record. Then we had to go on.Too late to turn back!"

"I reckon we've all said that. None of the gang wants to quit. Theyall think, and I think, we can't be touched. We may be blamed, butnothing can be proved. We're too strong."

"There's where you're dead wrong," rejoined Sampson, emphatically."I imagined that once, not long ago. I was bull-headed. Who would everconnect Roger Sampson with a rustler gang? I've changed my mind. I'vebegun to think. I've reasoned out things. We're crooked and we can'tlast. It's the nature of life, even in wild Pecos, for conditions togrow better. The wise deal for us would be to divide equally and leavethe country, all of us."

"But you and I have all the stock—all the gain," protestedWright.

"I'll split mine."

"I won't—that settles that," added Wright instantly.

Sampson spread wide his hands as if it was useless to try toconvince this man. Talking had not increased his calmness, and he nowshowed more than impatience. A dull glint gleamed deep in his eyes."Your stock and property will last a long time—do you lots ofgood when Steele—"

"Bah!" hoarsely croaked Wright. The Ranger's name was a matchapplied to powder. "Haven't I told you he'd be dead soon same as Hodenis?"

"Yes, you mentioned the supposition," replied Sampson sarcastically."I inquired, too just how that very desired event was to be broughtabout."

"Blome's here to kill Steele."

"Bah!" retorted Sampson in turn. "Blome can't kill this Ranger. Hecan't face him with a ghost of a show—he'll never get a chance atSteele's back. The man don't live on this border who's quick and smartenough to kill Steele."

"I'd like to know why?" demanded Wright sullenly.

"You ought to know. You've seen the Ranger pull a gun."

"Who told you?" queried Wright, his face working.

"Oh, I guessed it, if that'll do you."

"If Jack doesn't kill this damned Ranger I will," replied Wright,pounding the table.

Sampson laughed contemptuously. "George, don't make so much noise.And don't be a fool. You've been on the border for ten years. You'vepacked a gun and you've used it. You've been with Blome and Sneckerwhen they killed their men. You've been present at many fights. But younever saw a man like Steele. You haven't got sense enough to see himright if you had a chance. Neither has Blome. The only way to get ridof Steele is for the gang to draw on him, all at once. And even thenhe's going to drop some of them."

"Sampson, you say that like a man who wouldn't care much if Steeledid drop some of them," declared Wright, and now he was sarcastic.

"To tell you the truth I wouldn't," returned the other bluntly. "I'mpretty sick of this mess."

Wright cursed in amaze. His emotions were out of all proportion tohis intelligence. He was not at all quick-witted. I had never seen avainer or more arrogant man. "Sampson, I don't like your talk," hesaid.

"If you don't like the way I talk you know what you can do," repliedSampson quickly. He stood up then, cool and quiet, with flash of eyesand set of lips that told me he was dangerous.

"Well, after all, that's neither here nor there," went on Wright,unconsciously cowed by the other. "The thing is, do I get thegirl?"

"Not by any means, except her consent."

"You'll not make her marry me?"

"No. No," replied Sampson, his voice still cold, low-pitched.

"All right. Then I'll make her."

Evidently Sampson understood the man before him so well that hewasted no more words. I knew what Wright never dreamed of, and that wasthat Sampson had a gun somewhere within reach and meant to use it.

Then heavy footsteps sounded outside, tramping upon the porch. Imight have been mistaken, but I believed those footsteps saved Wright'slife.

"There they are," said Wright, and he opened the door. Five maskedmen entered. About two of them I could not recognize anything familiar.I thought one had old Snecker's burly shoulders and another BoSnecker's stripling shape. I did recognize Blome in spite of his mask,because his fair skin and hair, his garb and air of distinction madeplain his identity. They all wore coats, hiding any weapons. The bigman with burly shoulders shook hands with Sampson and the others stoodback.

The atmosphere of that room had changed. Wright might have been anonentity for all he counted. Sampson was another man—a strangerto me. If he had entertained a hope of freeing himself from his band,of getting away to a safer country, he abandoned it at the very sightof these men. There was power here and he was bound.

The big man spoke in low, hoarse whispers, and at this all theothers gathered round him, close to the table. There were evidentlysome signs of membership not plain to me. Then all the heads were bentover the table. Low voices spoke, queried, answered, argued. Bystraining my ears I caught a word here and there. They were planning. Idid not attempt to get at the meaning of the few words and phrases Idistinguished, but held them in mind so to piece all togetherafterward. Before the plotters finished conferring I had an involuntaryflashed knowledge of much and my whirling, excited mind made receptiondifficult.

When these rustlers finished whispering I was in a cold sweat.Steele was to be killed as soon as possible by Blome, or by the ganggoing to Steele's house at night. Morton had been seen with the Ranger.He was to meet the same fate as Hoden, dealt by Bo Snecker, whoevidently worked in the dark like a ferret. Any other person known tobe communing with Steele, or interested in him, or suspected of either,was to be silenced. Then the town was to suffer a short deadly spell ofviolence, directed anywhere, for the purpose of intimidating thosepeople who had begun to be restless under the influence of the Ranger.After that, big herds of stock were to be rustled off the ranches tothe north and driven to El Paso.

Then the big man, who evidently was the leader of the presentconvention, got up to depart. He went as swiftly as he had come, andwas followed by the slender fellow. As far as it was possible for me tobe sure, I identified these two as Snecker and his son. The others,however, remained. Blome removed his mask, which action was duplicatedby the two rustlers who had stayed with him. They were both young,bronzed, hard of countenance, not unlike cowboys. Evidently this wasnow a social call on Sampson. He set out cigars and liquors for hisguests, and a general conversation ensued, differing little from whatmight have been indulged in by neighborly ranchers. There was not aword spoken that would have caused suspicion.

Blome was genial, gay, and he talked the most. Wright alone seemeduncommunicative and unsociable. He smoked fiercely and drankcontinually. All at once he straightened up as if listening. "What'sthat?" he called suddenly.

The talking and laughter ceased. My own strained ears were pervadedby a slight rustling sound.

"Must be a rat," replied Sampson in relief. Strange how any suddenor unknown thing weighed upon him.

The rustling became a rattle.

"Sounds like a rattlesnake to me," said Blome.

Sampson got up from the table and peered round the room. Just atthat instant I felt an almost inappreciable movement of the adobe wallwhich supported me. I could scarcely credit my senses. But the rattleinside Sampson's room was mingling with little dull thuds of fallingdirt. The adobe wall, merely dried mud was crumbling. I distinctly felta tremor pass through it. Then the blood gushed with sickening coldnessback to my heart and seemingly clogged it.

"What in the hell!" exclaimed Sampson.

"I smell dust," said Blome sharply.

That was the signal for me to drop down from my perch, yet despitemy care I made a noise.

"Did you hear a step?" queried Sampson.

Then a section of the wall fell inward with a crash. I began tosqueeze my body through the narrow passage toward the patio.

"Hear him!" yelled Wright. "This side."

"No, he's going that way," yelled someone else. The tramp of heavyboots lent me the strength and speed of desperation. I was not shirkinga fight, but to be cornered like a trapped coyote was another matter. Ialmost tore my clothes off in that passage. The dust nearly stifledme.

When I burst into the patio it was not one single instant too soon.But one deep gash of breath revived me, and I was up, gun in hand,running for the outlet into the court. Thumping footsteps turned meback. While there was a chance to get away I did not want to meet oddsin a fight. I thought I heard some one running into the patio from theother end. I stole along, and coming to a door, without any idea ofwhere it might lead, I softly pushed it open a little way and slippedin.

Chapter 9

IN FLAGRANTE DELICTO

A low cry greeted me. The room was light. I saw Sally Langdonsitting on her bed in her dressing gown. Shaking my gun at her with afierce warning gesture to be silent, I turned to close the door. It wasa heavy door, without bolt or bar, and when I had shut it I felt safeonly for the moment. Then I gazed around the room. There was one windowwith blind closely drawn. I listened and seemed to hear footstepsretreating, dying away. Then I turned to Sally. She had slipped off thebed to her knees and was holding out trembling hands as if both tosupplicate mercy and to ward me off. She was as white as the pillow onher bed. She was terribly frightened. Again with warning handcommanding silence I stepped softly forward, meaning to reassureher.

"Russ! Russ!" she whispered wildly, and I thought she was going tofaint. When I got close and looked into her eyes I understood thestrange dark expression in them. She was terrified because she believedI meant to kill her, or do worse, probably worse. She had believed manya hard story about me and had cared for me in spite of them. Iremembered, then, that she had broken her promise, she had tempted me,led me to kiss her, made a fool out of me. I remembered, also how I hadthreatened her. This intrusion of mine was the wild cowboy'svengeance.

I verily believed she thought I was drunk. I must have looked prettyhard and fierce, bursting into her room with that big gun in hand. Myfirst action then was to lay the gun on her bureau.

"You poor kid!" I whispered, taking her hands and trying to raiseher. But she stayed on her knees and clung to me.

"Russ! It was vile of me," she whispered. "I know it. I deserveanything—anything! But I am only a kid. Russ, I didn't break myword—I didn't make you kiss me just for, vanity's sake. I swear Ididn't. I wanted you to. For I care, Russ, I can't help it. Pleaseforgive me. Please let me off this time. Don't—don't—"

"Will you shut up!" I interrupted, half beside myself. And I usedforce in another way than speech. I shook her and sat her on the bed."You little fool, I didn't come in here to kill you or do some otherawful thing, as you think. For God's sake, Sally, what do you take mefor?"

"Russ, you swore you'd do something terrible if I tempted youanymore," she faltered. The way she searched my face with doubtful,fearful eyes hurt me.

"Listen," and with the word I seemed to be pervaded by peace. "Ididn't know this was your room. I came in here to get away—tosave my life. I was pursued. I was spying on Sampson and his men. Theyheard me, but did not see me. They don't know who was listening.They're after me now. I'm Special United States Deputy MarshalSittell—Russell Archibald Sittell. I'm a Ranger. I'm here assecret aid to Steele."

Sally's eyes changed from blank gulfs to dilating, shadowing,quickening windows of thought. "Russ-ell Archi-bald Sittell," sheechoed. "Ranger! Secret aid to Steele!"

"Yes."

"Then you're no cowboy?"

"No."

"Only a make-believe one?"

"Yes."

"And the drinking, the gambling, the association with those lowmen—that was all put on?"

"Part of the game, Sally. I'm not a drinking man. And I sure hatethose places I had to go in, and all that pertains to them."

"Oh, sothat's it! I knew there was something. Howglad—how glad I am!" Then Sally threw her arms around my neck,and without reserve or restraint began to kiss me and love me. It musthave been a moment of sheer gladness to feel that I was notdisreputable, a moment when something deep and womanly in her wasvindicated. Assuredly she was entirely different from what she had everbeen before.

There was a little space of time, a sweet confusion of senses, whenI could not but meet her half-way in tenderness. Quite as suddenly,then she began to cry. I whispered in her ear, cautioning her to becareful, that my life was at stake; and after that she cried silently,with one of her arms round my neck, her head on my breast, and her handclasping mine. So I held her for what seemed a long time. Indistinctvoices came to me and footsteps seemingly a long way off. I heard thewind in the rose-bush outside. Some one walked down the stony court.Then a shrill neigh of a horse pierced the silence. A rider wasmounting out there for some reason. With my life at stake I grasped allthe sweetness of that situation. Sally stirred in my arms, raised ared, tear-stained yet happy face, and tried to smile. "It isn't anytime to cry," she whispered. "But I had to. You can't understand whatit made me feel to learn you're no drunkard, no desperado, but aman—a man like that Ranger!" Very sweetly and seriouslyshe kissed me again. "Russ, if I didn't honestly and truly love youbefore, I do now."

Then she stood up and faced me with the fire and intelligence of awoman in her eyes. "Tell me now. You were spying on my uncle?"

Briefly I told her what had happened before I entered her room, notomitting a terse word as to the character of the men I had watched.

"My God! So it's Uncle Roger! I knew something was very wronghere—with him, with the place, the people. And right off I hatedGeorge Wright. Russ, does Diane know?"

"She knows something. I haven't any idea how much."

"This explains her appeal to Steele. Oh, it'll kill her! You don'tknow how proud, how good Diane is. Oh, it'll kill her!"

"Sally, she's no baby. She's got sand, that girl—"

The sound of soft steps somewhere near distracted my attention,reminded me of my peril, and now, what counted more with me, made clearthe probability of being discovered in Sally's room. "I'll have to getout of here," I whispered.

"Wait," she replied, detaining me. "Didn't you say they were huntingfor you?"

"They sure are," I returned grimly.

"Oh! Then you mustn't go. They might shoot you before you got away.Stay. If we hear them you can hide under my bed. I'll turn out thelight. I'll meet them at the door. You can trust me. Stay, Russ. Waittill all quiets down, if we have to wait till morning. Then you canslip out."

"Sally, I oughtn't to stay. I don't want to—I won't," Ireplied perplexed and stubborn.

"But you must. It's the only safe way. They won't come here."

"Suppose they should? It's an even chance Sampson'll search everyroom and corner in this old house. If they found me here I couldn'tstart a fight. You might be hurt. Then—the fact of my beinghere—" I did not finish what I meant, but instead made a steptoward the door.

Sally was on me like a little whirlwind, white of face and dark ofeye, with a resoluteness I could not have deemed her capable of. Shewas as strong and supple as a panther, too. But she need not have beeneither resolute or strong, for the clasp of her arms, the feel of herwarm breast as she pressed me back were enough to make me weak aswater. My knees buckled as I touched the chair, and I was glad to sitdown. My face was wet with perspiration and a kind of cold ripple shotover me. I imagined I was losing my nerve then. Proof beyond doubt thatSally loved me was so sweet, so overwhelming a thing, that I could notresist, even to save her disgrace.

"Russ, the fact of your being here is the very thing to saveyou—if they come," Sally whispered softly. "What do I care whatthey think?" She put her arms round my neck. I gave up then and heldher as if she indeed were my only hope. A noise, a stealthy sound, astep, froze that embrace into stone.

"Up yet, Sally?" came Sampson's clear voice, too strained, too eagerto be natural.

"No. I'm in bed, reading. Good night, Uncle," instantly repliedSally, so calmly and naturally that I marveled at the differencebetween man and woman. Perhaps that was the difference between love andhate.

"Are you alone?" went on Sampson's penetrating voice, coldernow.

"Yes," replied Sally.

The door swung inward with a swift scrape and jar. Sampson halfentered, haggard, flaming-eyed. His leveled gun did not have to move aninch to cover me. Behind him I saw Wright and indistinctly, anotherman.

"Well!" gasped Sampson. He showed amazement. "Hands up, Russ!"

I put up my hands quickly, but all the time I was calculating whatchance I had to leap for my gun or dash out the light. I was trapped.And fury, like the hot teeth of a wolf, bit into me. That leveled gun,the menace in Sampson's puzzled eyes, Wright's dark and hateful face,these loosened the spirit of fight in me. If Sally had not been there Iwould have made some desperate move.

Sampson barred Wright from entering, which action showed control aswell as distrust.

"You lied!" said Sampson to Sally. He was hard as flint, yetdoubtful and curious, too.

"Certainly I lied," snapped Sally in reply. She was cool, almostflippant. I awakened to the knowledge that she was to be reckoned within this situation. Suddenly she stepped squarely between Sampson andme.

"Move aside," ordered Sampson sternly.

"I won't! What do I care for your old gun? You shan't shoot Russ ordo anything else to him. It's my fault he's here in my room. I coaxedhim to come."

"You little hussy!" exclaimed Sampson, and he lowered the gun.

If I ever before had occasion to glory in Sally I had it then. Shebetrayed not the slightest fear. She looked as if she could fight likea little tigress. She was white, composed, defiant.

"How long has Russ been in here?" demanded Sampson.

"All evening. I left Diane at eight o'clock. Russ came right afterthat."

"But you'd undressed for bed!" ejaculated the angry and perplexeduncle.

"Yes." That simple answer was so noncommittal, so above subterfuge,so innocent, and yet so confounding in its provocation of thought thatSampson just stared his astonishment. But I started as if I had beenstruck.

"See here Sampson—" I began, passionately.

Like a flash Sally whirled into my arms and one hand crossed mylips. "It's my fault. I will take the blame," she cried, and now theagony of fear in her voice quieted me. I realized I would be wise to besilent. "Uncle," began Sally, turning her head, yet still clinging tome, "I've tormented Russ into loving me. I've flirted withhim—teased him—tempted him. We love each other now. We'reengaged. Please—please don't—" She began to falter and Ifelt her weight sag a little against me.

"Well, let go of him," said Sampson. "I won't hurt him. Sally, howlong has this affair been going on?"

"For weeks—I don't know how long."

"Does Diane know?"

"She knows we love each other, but not that we met—didthis—" Light swift steps, the rustle of silk interrupted Sampson,and made my heart sink like lead.

"Is that you, George?" came Miss Sampson's deep voice, nervous,hurried. "What's all this commotion? I hear—"

"Diane, go on back," ordered Sampson.

Just then Miss Sampson's beautiful agitated face appeared besideWright. He failed to prevent her from seeing all of us.

"Papa! Sally!" she exclaimed, in consternation. Then she swept intothe room. "What has happened?"

Sampson, like the devil he was, laughed when it was too late. He hadgood impulses, but they never interfered with his sardonic humor. Hepaced the little room, shrugging his shoulders, offering noexplanation. Sally appeared about ready to collapse and I could nothave told Sally's lie to Miss Sampson to save my life.

"Diane, your father and I broke in on a little Romeo and Julietscene," said George Wright with a leer. Then Miss Sampson's dark gazeswept from George to her father, then to Sally's attire and her shamedface, and finally to me. What effect the magnificent wrath and outragedtrust in her eyes had upon me!

"Russ, do they dare insinuate you came to Sally's room?" For myselfI could keep silent, but for Sally I began to feel a hot clamoringoutburst swelling in my throat.

"Sally confessed it, Diane," replied Wright.

"Sally!" A shrinking, shuddering disbelief filled Miss Sampson'svoice.

"Diane, I told you I loved him—didn't I?" replied Sally. Shemanaged to hold up her head with a ghost of her former defiantspirit.

"Miss Sampson, it's a—" I burst out.

Then Sally fainted. It was I who caught her. Miss Sampson hurried toher side with a little cry of distress.

"Russ, your hand's called," said Sampson. "Of course you'll swearthe moon's green cheese. And I like you the better for it. But we knownow, and you can save your breath. If Sally hadn't stuck up so gamelyfor you I'd have shot you. But at that I wasn't looking for you. Nowclear out of here." I picked up my gun from the bureau and dropped itin its sheath. For the life of me I could not leave without anotherlook at Miss Sampson. The scorn in her eyes did not wholly hide thesadness. She who needed friends was experiencing the bitterness ofmisplaced trust. That came out in the scorn, but the sadness—Iknew what hurt her most was her sorrow.

I dropped my head and stalked out.

Chapter 10

A SLAP IN THE FACE

When I got out into the dark, where my hot face cooled in the wind,my relief equaled my other feelings. Sampson had told me to clear out,and although I did not take that as a dismissal I considered I would bewise to leave the ranch at once. Daylight might disclose my footprintsbetween the walls, but even if it did not, my work there was finished.So I went to my room and packed my few belongings.

The night was dark, windy, stormy, yet there was no rain. I hoped assoon as I got clear of the ranch to lose something of the pain I felt.But long after I had tramped out into the open there was a lump in mythroat and an ache in my breast. And all my thought centered roundSally.

What a game and loyal little girl she had turned out to be! I wasabsolutely at a loss concerning what the future held in store for us. Iseemed to have a vague but clinging hope that, after the trouble wasover, there might be—theremust be—something morebetween us.

Steele was not at our rendezvous among the rocks. The hour was toolate. Among the few dim lights flickering on the outskirts of town Ipicked out the one of his little adobe house but I knew almost to acertainty that he was not there. So I turned my way into the darkness,not with any great hope of finding Steele out there, but with theintention of seeking a covert for myself until morning.

There was no trail and the night was so black that I could see onlythe lighter sandy patches of ground. I stumbled over the little clumpsof brush, fell into washes, and pricked myself on cactus. By and bymesquites and rocks began to make progress still harder for me. Iwandered around, at last getting on higher ground and here in spite ofthe darkness, felt some sense of familiarity with things. I wasprobably near Steele's hiding place.

I went on till rocks and brush barred further progress, and then Iventured to whistle. But no answer came. Whereupon I spread my blanketin as sheltered a place as I could find and lay down. The coyotes wereon noisy duty, the wind moaned and rushed through the mesquites. Butdespite these sounds and worry about Steele, and the never-absenthaunting thought of Sally, I went to sleep.

A little rain had fallen during the night, as I discovered uponwaking; still it was not enough to cause me any discomfort. The morningwas bright and beautiful, yet somehow I hated it. I had work to do thatdid not go well with that golden wave of grass and brush on the windyopen.

I climbed to the highest rock of that ridge and looked about. It wasa wild spot, some three miles from town. Presently I recognizedlandmarks given to me by Steele and knew I was near his place. Iwhistled, then halloed, but got no reply. Then by working back andforth across the ridge I found what appeared to be a faint trail. ThisI followed, lost and found again, and eventually, still higher up onanother ridge, with a commanding outlook, I found Steele's hidingplace. He had not been there for perhaps forty-eight hours. I wonderedwhere he had slept.

Under a shelving rock I found a pack of food, carefully protected bya heavy slab. There was also a canteen full of water. I lost no timegetting myself some breakfast, and then, hiding my own pack, I set offat a rapid walk for town.

But I had scarcely gone a quarter of a mile, had, in fact, justreached a level, when sight of two horsemen halted me and made me taketo cover. They appeared to be cowboys hunting for a horse or a steer.Under the circumstances, however, I was suspicious, and I watched themclosely, and followed them a mile or so round the base of the ridges,until I had thoroughly satisfied myself they were not tracking Steele.They were a long time working out of sight, which further retarded myventuring forth into the open.

Finally I did get started. Then about half-way to town more horsemenin the flat caused me to lie low for a while, and make a wide detour toavoid being seen.

Somewhat to my anxiety it was afternoon before I arrived in town.For my life I could not have told why I knew something had happenedsince my last visit, but I certainly felt it; and was proportionatelycurious and anxious.

The first person I saw whom I recognized was Dick, and he handed mea note from Sally. She seemed to take it for granted that I had beenwise to leave the ranch. Miss Sampson had softened somewhat when shelearned Sally and I were engaged, and she had forgiven my deceit. Sallyasked me to come that night after eight, down among the trees andshrubbery, to a secluded spot we knew. It was a brief note and all tothe point. But there was something in it that affected me strangely. Ihad imagined the engagement an invention for the moment. But afterdanger to me was past Sally would not have carried on a pretense, noteven to win back Miss Sampson's respect. The fact was, Sally meant thatengagement. If I did the right thing now I would not lose her.

But what was the right thing?

I was sorely perplexed and deeply touched. Never had I a harder taskthan that of the hour—to put her out of my mind. I went boldly toSteele's house. He was not there. There was nothing by which I couldtell when he had been there. The lamp might have been turned out ormight have burned out. The oil was low. I saw a good many tracks roundin the sandy walks. I did not recognize Steele's.

As I hurried away I detected more than one of Steele's nearestneighbors peering at me from windows and doors. Then I went to Mrs.Hoden's. She was up and about and cheerful. The children were playing,manifestly well cared for and content. Mrs. Hoden had not seen Steelesince I had. Miss Samson had sent her servant. There was a very decidedchange in the atmosphere of Mrs. Hoden's home, and I saw that for herthe worst was past, and she was bravely, hopefully facing thefuture.

From there, I hurried to the main street of Linrock and to thatsection where violence brooded, ready at any chance moment to lift itshydra head. For that time of day the street seemed unusually quiet. Fewpedestrians were abroad and few loungers. There was a row of saddledhorses on each side of the street, the full extent of the block.

I went into the big barroom of the Hope So. I had never seen theplace so full, nor had it ever seemed so quiet. The whole long bar waslined by shirt-sleeved men, with hats slouched back and vests flappingwide. Those who were not drinking were talking low. Half a dozen tablesheld as many groups of dusty, motley men, some silent, others speakingand gesticulating, all earnest.

At first glance I did not see any one in whom I had especialinterest. The principal actors of my drama did not appear to bepresent. However, there were rough characters more in evidence than atany other time I had visited the saloon. Voices were too low for me tocatch, but I followed the direction of some of the significantgestures. Then I saw that these half dozen tables were rather closelygrouped and drawn back from the center of the big room. Next my quicksight took in a smashed table and chairs, some broken bottles on thefloor, and then a dark sinister splotch of blood.

I had no time to make inquiries, for my roving eye caught FrankMorton in the doorway, and evidently he wanted to attract my attention.He turned away and I followed. When I got outside, he was leaningagainst the hitching-rail. One look at this big rancher was enough forme to see that he had been told my part in Steele's game, and that hehimself had roused to the Texas fighting temper. He had a clouded brow.He looked somber and thick. He seemed slow, heavy, guarded.

"Howdy, Russ," he said. "We've been wantin' you."

"There's ten of us in town, all scattered round, ready. It's goin'to start to-day."

"Where's Steele?" was my first query.

"Saw him less'n hour ago. He's somewhere close. He may show up anytime."

"Is he all right?"

"Wai, he was pretty fit a little while back," replied Mortonsignificantly.

"What's come off? Tell me all."

"Wai, the ball opened last night, I reckon. Jack Blome cameswaggerin' in here askin' for Steele. We all knew what he was in townfor. But last night he came out with it. Every man in the saloons,every man on the streets heard Blome's loud an' longin' call for theRanger. Blome's pals took it up and they all enjoyed themselvessome."

"Drinking hard?" I queried.

"Nope—they didn't hit it up very hard. But they laidfoundations." Of course, Steele was not to be seen last night. Thismorning Blome and his gang were out pretty early. But they traveledalone. Blome just strolled up and down by himself. I watched him walkup this street on one side and then down the other, just a matter ofthirty-one times. I counted them. For all I could see maybe Blome didnot take a drink. But his gang, especially Bo Snecker, sure looked onthe red liquor.

"By eleven o'clock everybody in town knew what was coming off. Therewas no work or business, except in the saloons. Zimmer and I weretogether, and the rest of our crowd in pairs at different places. Ireckon it was about noon when Blome got tired parading up and down. Hewent in the Hope So, and the crowd followed. Zimmer stayed outside soto give Steele a hunch in case he came along. I went in to see theshow.

"Wai, it was some curious to me, and I've lived all my life inTexas. But I never before saw a gunman on the job, so to say. Blome's ahandsome fellow, an' he seemed different from what I expected. Sure, Ithought he'd yell an' prance round like a drunken fool. But he was coolan' quiet enough. The bio win' an' drinkin' was done by his pals. Butafter a little while it got to me that Blome gloried in this situation.I've seen a man dead-set to kill another, all dark, sullen, restless.But Blome wasn't that way. He didn't seem at all like a bloody devil.He was vain, cocksure. He was revelin' in the effect he made. I had himfigured all right.

"Blome sat on the edge of a table an' he faced the door. Of course,there was a pard outside, ready to pop in an' tell him if Steele wascomin'. But Steele didn't come in that way. He wasn't on the streetjust before that time, because Zimmer told me afterward. Steele musthave been in the Hope So somewhere. Any way, just like he dropped fromthe clouds he came through the door near the bar. Blome didn't see himcome. But most of the gang did, an' I want to tell you that big roomwent pretty quiet.

"'Hello Blome, I hear you're lookin' for me,' called out Steele.

"I don't know if he spoke ordinary or not, but his voice drew me upsame as it did the rest, an' damn me! Blome seemed to turn to stone. Hedidn't start or jump. He turned gray. An' I could see that he wastryin' to think in a moment when thinkin' was hard. Then Blome turnedhis head. Sure he expected to look into a six-shooter. But Steele wasstandin' back there in his shirt sleeves, his hands on his hips, and helooked more man than any one I ever saw. It's easy to remember the lookof him, but how he made me feel, that isn't easy.

"Blome was at a disadvantage. He was half sittin' on a table, an'Steele was behind an' to the left of him. For Blome to make a move thenwould have been a fool trick. He saw that. So did everybody. The crowdslid back without noise, but Bo Snecker an' a rustler named March stucknear Blome. I figured this Bo Snecker as dangerous as Blome, an'results proved I was right.

"Steele didn't choose to keep his advantage, so far as position inregard to Blome went. He just walked round in front of the rustler. Butthis put all the crowd in front of Steele, an' perhaps he had an eyefor that.

"'I hear you've been looking for me,' repeated the Ranger.

"Blome never moved a muscle but he seemed to come to life. It struckme that Steele's presence had made an impression on Blome which was newto the rustler.

"'Yes, I have,' replied Blome.

"'Well, here I am. What do you want?'

"When everybody knew what Blome wanted and had intended, thisquestion of Steele's seemed strange on one hand. An' yet on the other,now that the Ranger stood there, it struck me as natural enough.

"'If you heard I was lookin' for you, you sure heard what for,'replied Blome.

"'Blome, my experience with such men as you is that you all brag onething behind my back an' you mean different when I show up. I've calledyou now. What do you mean?'

"'I reckon you know what Jack Blome means.'

"'Jack Blome! That name means nothin' to me. Blome, you've beenbraggin' around that you'd meet me—kill me! You thought you meantit, didn't you?'

"'Yes—I did mean it.'

"'All right. Go ahead!'

"The barroom became perfectly still, except for the slow breaths Iheard. There wasn't any movement anywhere. That queer gray came toBlome's face again. He might again have been stone. I thought, an' I'llgamble every one else watchin' thought, Blome would draw an' get killedin the act. But he never moved. Steele had cowed him. If Blome had beenheated by drink, or mad, or anythin' but what he was just then, maybehe might have throwed a gun. But he didn't. I've heard of really bravemen gettin' panicked like that, an' after seein' Steele I didn't wonderat Blome.

"'You see, Blome, you don't want to meet me, for all your talk,'went on the Ranger. 'You thought you did, but that was before you facedthe man you intended to kill. Blome, you're one of these dandy,cock-of-the-walk four-flushers. I'll tell you how I know. Because I'vemet the real gun-fighters, an' there never was one of them yet whobragged or talked. Now don't you go round blowin' any more.'

"Then Steele deliberately stepped forward an' slapped Blome on oneside of his face an' again on the other.

"'Keep out of my way after this or I'm liable to spoil some of yourdandy looks.'

"Blome got up an' walked straight out of the place. I had my eyes onhim, kept me from seein' Steele. But on hearin' somethin', I don't knowwhat, I turned back an' there Steele had got a long arm on Bo Snecker,who was tryin' to throw a gun.

"But he wasn't quick enough. The gun banged in the air an' then itwent spinnin' away, while Snecker dropped in a heap on the floor. Thetable was overturned, an' March, the other rustler, who was on thatside, got up, pullin' his gun. But somebody in the crowd killed himbefore he could get goin'. I didn't see who fired that shot, an'neither did anybody else. But the crowd broke an' run. Steele draggedBo Snecker down to jail an' locked him up."

Morton concluded his narrative, and then evidently somewhat dry oftongue, he produced knife and tobacco and cut himself a huge quid."That's all, so far, to-day, Russ, but I reckon you'll agree with me onthe main issue—Steele's game's opened."

I had felt the rush of excitement, the old exultation at theprospect of danger, but this time there was something lacking in them.The wildness of the boy that had persisted in me was gone.

"Yes, Steele has opened it and I'm ready to boost the game along.Wait till I see him! But Morton, you say someone you don't know playeda hand in here and killed March."

"I sure do. It wasn't any of our men. Zimmer was outside. The otherswere at different places."

"The fact is, then, Steele has more friends than we know, perhapsmore than he knows himself."

"Right. An' it's got the gang in the air. There'll be hellto-night."

"Steele hardly expects to keep Snecker in jail, does he?"

"I can't say. Probably not. I wish Steele had put both Blome andSnecker out of the way. We'd have less to fight."

"Maybe. I'm for the elimination method myself. But Steele doesn'tfollow out the gun method. He will use one only when he's driven. It'shard to make him draw. You know, after all, these desperate men aren'tafraid of guns or fights. Yet they are afraid of Steele. Perhaps it'shis nerve, the way he faces them, the things he says, the fact that hehas mysterious allies."

"Russ, we're all with him, an' I'll gamble that the honest citizensof Linrock will flock to him in another day. I can see signs of that.There were twenty or more men on Hoden's list, but Steele didn't wantso many."

"We don't need any more. Morton, can you give me any idea whereSteele is?"

"Not the slightest."

"All right. I'll hunt for him. If you see him tell him to hole up,and then you come after me. Tell him I've got our men spotted."

"Russ, if you Ranger fellows ain't wonders!" exclaimed Morton, withshining eyes.

Steele did not show himself in town again that day. Here his cunningwas manifest. By four o'clock that afternoon Blome was drunk and he andhis rustlers went roaring up and down the street. There was someshooting, but I did not see or hear that any one got hurt. The lawlesselement, both native to Linrock and the visitors, followed in Blome'stracks from saloon to saloon. How often had I seen this sort ofprocession, though not on so large a scale, in many towns of wildTexas!

The two great and dangerous things in Linrock at the hour werewhisky and guns. Under such conditions the rustlers were capable of anymad act of folly.

Morton and his men sent word flying around town that a fight wasimminent and all citizens should be prepared to defend their homesagainst possible violence. But despite his warning I saw manyrespectable citizens abroad whose quiet, unobtrusive manner andwatchful eyes and hard faces told me that when trouble began theywanted to be there. Verily Ranger Steele had built his house of serviceupon a rock. It did not seem too much to say that the next few days,perhaps hours, would see a great change in the character and aproportionate decrease in number of the inhabitants of this corner ofPecos County.

Morton and I were in the crowd that watched Blome, Snecker, and adozen other rustlers march down to Steele's jail. They had crowbars andthey had cans of giant powder, which they had appropriated from ahardware store. If Steele had a jailer he was not in evidence. The doorwas wrenched off and Bo Snecker, evidently not wholly recovered,brought forth to his cheering comrades. Then some of the rustlers beganto urge back the pressing circle, and the word given out acted as aspur to haste. The jail was to be blown up.

The crowd split and some men ran one way, some another. Morton and Iwere among those who hurried over the vacant ground to a little ridgethat marked the edge of the open country. From this vantage point weheard several rustlers yell in warning, then they fled for theirlives.

It developed that they might have spared themselves such headlongflight. The explosion appeared to be long in coming. At length we sawthe lifting of the roof in a cloud of red dust, and then heard anexceedingly heavy but low detonation. When the pall of dust driftedaway all that was left of Steele's jail was a part of the stone walls.The building that stood nearest, being constructed of adobe, had beenbadly damaged.

However, this wreck of the jail did not seem to satisfy Blome andhis followers, for amid wild yells and huzzahs they set to work withcrowbars and soon laid low every stone. Then with young Snecker in thefore they set off up town; and if this was not a gang in fit mood forany evil or any ridiculous celebration I greatly missed my guess.

It was a remarkable fact, however, and one that convinced me ofdeviltry afoot, that the crowd broke up, dispersed, and actuallydisappeared off the streets of Linrock. The impression given was thatthey were satisfied. But this impression did not remain with me. Mortonwas scarcely deceived either. I told him that I would almost certainlysee Steele early in the evening and that we would be out of harm's way.He told me that we could trust him and his men to keep sharp watch onthe night doings of Blome's gang. Then we parted.

It was almost dark. By the time I had gotten something to eat anddrink at the Hope So, the hour for my meeting with Sally was about due.On the way out I did not pass a lighted house until I got to the end ofthe street; and then strange to say, that one was Steele's. I walkeddown past the place, and though I was positive he would not be there Iwhistled low. I halted and waited. He had two lights lit, one in thekitchen, and one in the big room. The blinds were drawn. I saw a long,dark shadow cross one window and then, a little later, cross the other.This would have deceived me had I not remembered Steele's device forcasting the shadow. He had expected to have his house attacked atnight, presumably while he was at home; but he had felt that it was notnecessary for him to stay there to make sure. Lawless men of this classwere sometimes exceedingly simple and gullible.

Then I bent my steps across the open, avoiding road and path, to thefoot of the hill upon which Sampson's house stood. It was dark enoughunder the trees. I could hardly find my way to the secluded nook andbench where I had been directed to come. I wondered if Sally would beable to find it. Trust that girl! She might have a few qualms and comeshaking a little, but she would be there on the minute.

I had hardly seated myself to wait when my keen ears detectedsomething, then slight rustlings, then soft steps, and a dark formemerged from the blackness into the little starlit glade. Sally cameswiftly towards me and right into my arms. That was sure a sweetmoment. Through the excitement and dark boding thoughts of the day, Ihad forgotten that she would do just this thing. And now I anticipatedtears, clingings, fears. But I was agreeably surprised.

"Russ, are you all right?" she whispered.

"Just at this moment I am," I replied.

Sally gave me another little hug, and then, disengaging herself frommy arms, she sat down beside me.

"I can only stay a minute. Oh, it's safe enough. But I told Diane Iwas to meet you and she's waiting to hear if Steeleis—is—"

"Steele's safe so far," I interrupted.

"There were men coming and going all day. Uncle Roger never appearedat meals. He didn't eat, Diane said. George tramped up and down,smoking, biting his nails, listening for these messengers. When they'dleave he'd go in for another drink. We heard him roar some one had beenshot and we feared it might be Steele."

"No," I replied, steadily.

"Did Steele shoot anybody?"

"No. A rustler named March tried to draw on Steele, and someone inthe crowd killed March."

"Someone? Russ, was it you?"

"It sure wasn't. I didn't happen to be there."

"Ah! Then Steele has other men like you around him. I might haveguessed that."

"Sally, Steele makes men his friends. It's because he's on the sideof justice."

"Diane will be glad to hear that. She doesn't think only of Steele'slife. I believe she has a secret pride in his work. And I've an ideawhat she fears most is some kind of a clash between Steele and herfather."

"I shouldn't wonder. Sally, what does Diane know about herfather?"

"Oh, she's in the dark. She got hold of papers that made her ask himquestions. And his answers made her suspicious. She realizes he's notwhat he has pretended to be all these years. But she never dreams herfather is a rustler chief. When she finds that out—" Sally brokeoff and I finished the sentence in thought.

"Listen, Sally," I said, suddenly. "I've an idea that Steele's housewill be attacked by the gang to-night, and destroyed, same as the jailwas this afternoon. These rustlers are crazy. They'll expect to killhim while he's there. But he won't be there. If you and Diane hearshooting and yelling to-night don't be frightened. Steele and I will besafe."

"Oh, I hope so. Russ, I must hurry back. But, first, can't youarrange a meeting between Diane and Steele? It's her wish. She beggedme to. She must see him."

"I'll try," I promised, knowing that promise would be hard tokeep.

"We could ride out from the ranch somewhere. You remember we used torest on the high ridge where there was a shady place—such abeautiful outlook? It was there I—I—"

"My dear, you needn't bring up painful memories. I rememberwhere."

Sally laughed softly. She could laugh in the face of the gloomiestprospects. "Well, to-morrow morning, or the next, or any morning soon,you tie your red scarf on the dead branch of that high mesquite. I'lllook every morning with the glass. If I see the scarf, Diane and I willride out."

"That's fine. Sally, you have ideas in your pretty little head. Andonce I thought it held nothing but—" She put a hand on my mouth."I must go now," she said and rose. She stood close to me and put herarms around my neck. "One thing more, Russ. It—it wasdif—difficult telling Diane we—we were engaged. I lied toUncle. But what else could I have told Diane?I—I—Oh—was it—" She faltered.

"Sally, you lied to Sampson to save me. But you must have acceptedme before you could have told Diane the truth."

"Oh, Russ, I had—in my heart! But it has been some time sinceyou asked me—and—and—"

"You imagined my offer might have been withdrawn. Well, itstands."

She slipped closer to me then, with that soft sinuousness of awoman, and I believed she might have kissed me had I not held back,toying with my happiness.

"Sally, do you love me?"

"Ever so much. Since the very first."

"I'm a marshal, a Ranger like Steele, a hunter of criminals. It's ahard life. There's spilling of blood. And any time I—Imight—All the same, Sally—will you be my wife?"

"Oh, Russ! Yes. But let me tell you when your duty's done here thatI will have a word to say about your future. It'll be news to you tolearn I'm an orphan. And I'm not a poor one. I own a plantation inLouisiana. I'll make a planter out of you. There!"

"Sally! You're rich?" I exclaimed.

"I'm afraid I am. But nobody can ever say you married me for mymoney."

"Well, no, not if you tell of my abject courtship when I thought youa poor relation on a visit. My God! Sally, if I only could see thisRanger job through safely and to success!"

"You will," she said softly.

Then I took a ring from my little finger and slipped it on hers."That was my sister's. She's dead now. No other girl ever wore it. Letit be your engagement ring. Sally, I pray I may somehow get throughthis awful Ranger deal to make you happy, to become worthy of you!"

"Russ, I fear only one thing," she whispered.

"And what's that?"

"There will be fighting. And you—oh, I saw into your eyes theother night when you stood with your hands up. You would kill anybody,Russ. It's awful! But don't think me a baby. I can conceive what yourwork is, what a man you must be. I can love you and stick to you, too.But if you killed a blood relative of mine I would have to give you up.I'm a Southerner, Russ, and blood is thick. I scorn my uncle and I hatemy cousin George. And I love you. But don't you kill one of my family,I—Oh, I beg of you go as far as you dare to avoid that!"

I could find no voice to answer her, and for a long moment we werelocked in an embrace, breast to breast and lips to lips, an embrace ofsweet pain.

Then she broke away, called a low, hurried good-by, and stole like ashadow into the darkness.

An hour later I lay in the open starlight among the stones andbrush, out where Steele and I always met. He lay there with me, butwhile I looked up at the stars he had his face covered with his hands.For I had given him my proofs of the guilt of Diane Sampson'sfather.

Steele had made one comment: "I wish to God I'd sent for some foolwho'd have bungled the job!"

This was a compliment to me, but it showed what a sad pass Steelehad come to. My regret was that I had no sympathy to offer him. Ifailed him there. I had trouble of my own. The feel of Sally's clingingarms around my neck, the warm, sweet touch of her lips remained onmine. What Steele was enduring I did not know, but I felt that it wasagony.

Meanwhile time passed. The blue, velvety sky darkened as the starsgrew brighter. The wind grew stronger and colder. I heard sand blowingagainst the stones like the rustle of silk. Otherwise it was asingularly quiet night. I wondered where the coyotes were and longedfor their chorus. By and by a prairie wolf sent in his lonely lamentfrom the distant ridges. That mourn was worse than the silence. It madethe cold shudders creep up and down my back. It was just the cry thatseemed to be the one to express my own trouble. No one hearing thatlong-drawn, quivering wail could ever disassociate it from tragedy. Byand by it ceased, and then I wished it would come again. Steele laylike the stone beside him. Was he ever going to speak? Among thevagaries of my mood was a petulant desire to have him sympathize withme.

I had just looked at my watch, making out in the starlight that thehour was eleven, when the report of a gun broke the silence.

I jumped up to peer over the stone. Steele lumbered up beside me,and I heard him draw his breath hard.

Chapter 11

THE FIGHT IN THE HOPE SO

I could plainly see the lights of his adobe house, but of course,nothing else was visible. There were no other lighted houses near.Several flashes gleamed, faded swiftly, to be followed by reports, andthen the unmistakable jingle of glass.

"I guess the fools have opened up, Steele," I said. His response wasan angry grunt. It was just as well, I concluded, that things had begunto stir. Steele needed to be roused.

Suddenly a single sharp yell pealed out. Following it came a hugeflare of light, a sheet of flame in which a great cloud of smoke ordust shot up. Then, with accompanying darkness, burst a low, deep,thunderous boom. The lights of the house went out, then came a crash.Points of light flashed in a half-circle and the reports of gunsblended with the yells of furious men, and all these were swallowed upin the roar of a mob.

Another and a heavier explosion momentarily lightened the darknessand then rent the air. It was succeeded by a continuous volley and asteady sound that, though composed of yells, screams, cheers, was notanything but a hideous roar of hate. It kept up long after there couldhave been any possibility of life under the ruins of that house. It wasmore than hate of Steele. All that was wild and lawless and violenthurled this deed at the Ranger Service.

Such events had happened before in Texas and other states; but,strangely, they never happened more than once in one locality. Theywere expressions, perhaps, that could never come but once.

I watched Steele through all that hideous din, that manifestation ofinsane rage at his life and joy at his death, and when silence oncemore reigned and he turned his white face to mine, I had a sensation ofdread. And dread was something particularly foreign to my nature.

"So Blome and the Sneckers think they've done for me," hemuttered.

"Pleasant surprise for them to-morrow, eh, old man?" I queried.

"To-morrow? Look, Russ, what's left of my old 'dobe house is onfire. The ruins can't be searched soon. And I was particular to fixthings so it'd look like I was home. I just wanted to give them achance. It's incomprehensible how easy men like them can be duped.Whisky-soaked! Yes, they'll be surprised!"

He lingered a while, watching the smoldering fire and the dimcolumns of smoke curling up against the dark blue. "Russ, do yousuppose they heard up at the ranch and think I'm—"

"They heard, of course," I replied. "But the girls know you're safewith me."

"Safe? I—I almost wish to God I was there under that heap ofruins, where the rustlers think they've left me."

"Well, Steele, old fellow, come on. We need some sleep." With Steelein the lead, we stalked away into the open.

Two days later, about the middle of the forenoon, I sat upon a greatflat rock in the shade of a bushy mesquite, and, besides enjoying thevast, clear sweep of gold and gray plain below, I was otherwisepleasantly engaged. Sally sat as close to me as she could get, holdingto my arm as if she never intended to let go. On the other side MissSampson leaned against me, and she was white and breathless, partlyfrom the quick ride out from the ranch, partly from agitation. She hadgrown thinner, and there were dark shadows under her eyes, yet sheseemed only more beautiful. The red scarf with which I had signaled thegirls waved from a branch of the mesquite. At the foot of the ridgetheir horses were halted in a shady spot.

"Take off your sombrero," I said to Sally. "You look hot. Besides,you're prettier with your hair flying." As she made no move, I took itoff for her. Then I made bold to perform the same office for MissSampson. She faintly smiled her thanks. Assuredly she had forgotten allher resentment. There were little beads of perspiration upon her whitebrow. What a beautiful mass of black-brown hair, with strands of red orgold! Pretty soon she would be bending that exquisite head and faceover poor Steele, and I, who had schemed this meeting, did not carewhat he might do to me.

Pretty soon, also, there was likely to be an interview that wouldshake us all to our depths, and naturally, I was somber at heart. Butthough my outward mood of good humor may have been pretense, itcertainly was a pleasure to be with the girls again way out in theopen. Both girls were quiet, and this made my task harder, and perhapsin my anxiety to ward off questions and appear happy for their ownsakes I made an ass of myself with my silly talk and familiarity. Hadever a Ranger such a job as mine?

"Diane, did Sally show you her engagement ring?" I went on, bound totalk.

Miss Sampson either did not notice my use of her first name or shedid not object. She seemed so friendly, so helplessly wistful. "Yes.It's very pretty. An antique. I've seen a few of them," shereplied.

"I hope you'll let Sally marry me soon."

"Let her? Sally Langdon? You haven't become acquainted withyour fiancee. But when—"

"Oh, next week, just as soon—"

"Russ!" cried Sally, blushing furiously.

"What's the matter?" I queried innocently.

"You're a little previous."

"Well, Sally, I don't presume to split hairs over dates. But, yousee, you've become extremely more desirable—in the light ofcertain revelations. Diane, wasn't Sally the deceitful thing? Anheiress all the time! And I'm to be a planter and smoke fine cigars anddrink mint juleps! No, there won't be any juleps."

"Russ, you're talking nonsense," reproved Sally. "Surely it's notime to be funny."

"All right," I replied with resignation. It was no task to discardthat hollow mask of humor. A silence ensued, and I waited for it to bebroken.

"Is Steele badly hurt?" asked Miss Sampson presently.

"No. Not what he or I'd call hurt at all. He's got a scalp wound,where a bullet bounced off his skull. It's only a scratch. Then he'sgot another in the shoulder; but it's not bad, either."

"Where is he now?"

"Look across on the other ridge. See the big white stone? There,down under the trees, is our camp. He's there."

"When may—I see him?" There was a catch in her low voice.

"He's asleep now. After what happened yesterday he was exhausted,and the pain in his head kept him awake till late. Let him sleep awhile yet. Then you can see him."

"Did he know we were coming?"

"He hadn't the slightest idea. He'll be overjoyed to see you. Hecan't help that. But he'll about fall upon me with harmful intent."

"Why?"

"Well, I know he's afraid to see you."

"Why?"

"Because it only makes his duty harder."

"Ah!" she breathed.

It seemed to me that my intelligence confirmed a hope of hers andgave her relief. I felt something terrible in the balance for Steele.And I was glad to be able to throw them together. The catastrophe mustfall, and now the sooner it fell the better. But I experienced atightening of my lips and a tugging at my heart-strings.

"Sally, what do you and Diane know about the goings-on in townyesterday?" I asked.

"Not much. George was like an insane man. I was afraid to go nearhim. Uncle wore a sardonic smile. I heard him curse George—oh,terribly! I believe he hates George. Same as day before yesterday,there were men riding in and out. But Diane and I heard only a little,and conflicting statements at that. We knew there was fighting. Dickand the servants, the cowboys, all brought rumors. Steele was killed atleast ten times and came to life just as many.

"I can't recall, don't want to recall, all we heard. But thismorning when I saw the red scarf flying in the wind—well, Russ, Iwas so glad I could not see through the glass any more. We knew thenSteele was all right or you wouldn't have put up the signal."

"Reckon few people in Linrock realize just whatdid comeoff," I replied with a grim chuckle.

"Russ, I want you to tell me," said Miss Sampson earnestly.

"What?" I queried sharply.

"About yesterday—what Steele did—what happened."

"Miss Sampson, I could tell you in a few short statements of fact orI could take two hours in the telling. Which do you prefer?"

"I prefer the long telling. I want to know all about him."

"But why, Miss Sampson? Consider. This is hardly a story for asensitive woman's ears."

"I am no coward," she replied, turning eyes to me that flashed likedark fire.

"But why?" I persisted. I wanted a good reason for calling up allthe details of the most strenuous and terrible day in my borderexperience. She was silent a moment. I saw her gaze turn to the spotwhere Steele lay asleep, and it was a pity he could not see her eyesthen. "Frankly, I don't want to tell you," I added, and I surely wouldhave been glad to get out of the job.

"I want to hear—because I glory in his work," she replieddeliberately.

I gathered as much from the expression of her face as from the deepring of her voice, the clear content of her statement. She loved theRanger, but that was not all of her reason.

"His work?" I echoed. "Do you want him to succeed in it?"

"With all my heart," she said, with a white glow on her face.

"My God!" I ejaculated. I just could not help it. I felt Sally'ssmall fingers clutching my arm like sharp pincers. I bit my lips tokeep them shut. What if Steele had heard her say that? Poor, noble,justice-loving, blind girl! She knew even less than I hoped. I forcedmy thought to the question immediately at hand. She gloried in theRanger's work. She wanted with all her heart to see him succeed in it.She had a woman's pride in his manliness. Perhaps, with a woman'scomplex, incomprehensible motive, she wanted Steele to be shown to herin all the power that made him hated and feared by lawless men. She hadfinally accepted the wild life of this border as something terrible andinevitable, but passing. Steele was one of the strange and great andmisunderstood men who were making that wild life pass.

For the first time I realized that Miss Sampson, through sharpenedeyes of love, saw Steele as he really was—a wonderful andnecessary violence. Her intelligence and sympathy had enabled her tosee through defamation and the false records following a Ranger; shehad had no choice but to love him; and then a woman's glory in a workthat freed men, saved women, and made children happy effaced foreverthe horror of a few dark deeds of blood.

"Miss Sampson, I must tell you first," I began, andhesitated—"that I'm not a cowboy. My wild stunts, my drinking andgaming—these were all pretense."

"Indeed! I am very glad to hear it. And was Sally in yourconfidence?"

"Only lately. I am a United States deputy marshal in the service ofSteele."

She gave a slight start, but did not raise her head.

"I have deceived you. But, all the same, I've been your friend. Iask you to respect my secret a little while. I'm telling you becauseotherwise my relation to Steele yesterday would not be plain. Now, ifyou and Sally will use this blanket, make yourselves more comfortableseats, I'll begin my story."

Miss Sampson allowed me to arrange a place for her where she couldrest at ease, but Sally returned to my side and stayed there. She wasan enigma to-day—pale, brooding, silent—and she neverlooked at me except when my face was half averted.

"Well," I began, "night before last Steele and I lay hidden amongthe rocks near the edge of town, and we listened to and watched thedestruction of Steele's house. It had served his purpose to leavelights burning, to have shadows blow across the window-blinds, and tohave a dummy in his bed. Also, he arranged guns to go off inside thehouse at the least jar. Steele wanted evidence against his enemies. Itwas not the pleasantest kind of thing to wait there listening to thatdrunken mob. There must have been a hundred men. The disturbance andthe intent worked strangely upon Steele. It made him different. In thedark I couldn't tell how he looked, but I felt a mood coming in himthat fairly made me dread the next day.

"About midnight we started for our camp here. Steele got in somesleep, but I couldn't. I was cold and hot by turns, eager and backward,furious and thoughtful. You see, the deal was such a complicated one,and to-morrow certainly was nearing the climax. By morning I was sick,distraught, gloomy, and uncertain. I had breakfast ready when Steeleawoke. I hated to look at him, but when I did it was like beingrevived.

"He said: 'Russ, you'll trail alongside me to-day and through therest of this mess.'

"That gave me another shock. I want to explain to you girls thatthis was the first time in my life I was backward at the prospects of afight. The shock was the jump of my pulse. My nerve came back. To lineup with Steele against Blome and his gang—that would begreat!

"'All right, old man,' I replied. 'We're going after them,then?'

"He only nodded.

"After breakfast I watched him clean and oil and reload his guns. Ididn't need to ask him if he expected to use them. I didn't need tourge upon him Captain Neal's command.

"'Russ,' said Steele, 'we'll go in together. But before we get totown I'll leave you and circle and come in at the back of the Hope So.You hurry on ahead, post Morton and his men, get the lay of the gang,if possible, and then be at the Hope So when I come in.'

"I didn't ask him if I had a free hand with my gun. I intended tohave that. We left camp and hurried toward town. It was near noon whenwe separated.

"I came down the road, apparently from Sampson's ranch. There was acrowd around the ruins of Steele's house. It was one heap of crumbled'dobe bricks and burned logs, still hot and smoking. No attempt hadbeen made to dig into the ruins. The curious crowd was certain thatSteele lay buried under all that stuff. One feature of that nightassault made me ponder. Daylight discovered the bodies of three deadmen, rustlers, who had been killed, the report went out, by randomshots. Other participants in the affair had been wounded. I believedMorton and his men, under cover of the darkness and in the melee, hadsent in some shots not calculated upon the program.

"From there I hurried to town. Just as I had expected, Morton andZimmer were lounging in front of the Hope So. They had company,disreputable and otherwise. As yet Morton's crowd had not come undersuspicion. He was wild for news of Steele, and when I gave it, andoutlined the plan, he became as cool and dark and grim as any man of mykind could have wished. He sent Zimmer to get the others of theirclique. Then he acquainted me with a few facts, although he wasnoncommittal in regard to my suspicion as to the strange killing of thethree rustlers.

"Blome, Bo Snecker, Hilliard, and Pickens, the ringleaders, hadpainted the town in celebration of Steele's death. They all gotgloriously drunk except old man Snecker. He had cold feet, they said.They were too happy to do any more shooting or mind what the oldrustler cautioned. It was two o'clock before they went to bed.

"This morning, after eleven, one by one they appeared with theirfollowers. The excitement had died down. Ranger Steele was out of theway and Linrock was once more wide open, free and easy. Blome aloneseemed sullen and spiritless, unresponsive to his comrades and theiradmirers. And now, at the time of my arrival, the whole gang, with theexception of old Snecker, were assembled in the Hope So.

"'Zimmer will be clever enough to drift his outfit along one or twoat a time?' I asked Morton, and he reassured me. Then we went into thesaloon.

"There were perhaps sixty or seventy men in the place, more thanhalf of whom were in open accord with Blome's gang. Of the rest therewere many of doubtful repute, and a few that might have been neutral,yet all the time were secretly burning to help any cause against theserustlers. At all events, I gathered that impression from the shadowedfaces, the tense bodies, the too-evident indication of anything butcareless presence there. The windows were open. The light was clear.Few men smoked, but all had a drink before them. There was the ordinarysubdued hum of conversation. I surveyed the scene, picked out myposition so as to be close to Steele when he entered, and saunteredround to it. Morton aimlessly leaned against a post.

"Presently Zimmer came in with a man and they advanced to the bar.Other men entered as others went out. Blome, Bo Snecker, Hilliard, andPickens had a table full in the light of the open windows. I recognizedthe faces of the two last-named, but I had not, until Morton informedme, known who they were. Pickens was little, scrubby, dusty, sandy,mottled, and he resembled a rattlesnake. Hilliard was big, gaunt,bronzed, with huge mustache and hollow, fierce eyes. I never had seen agrave-robber, but I imagined one would be like Hilliard. Bo Snecker wasa sleek, slim, slender, hard-looking boy, marked dangerous, because hewas too young and too wild to have caution or fear. Blome, the last ofthe bunch, showed the effects of a bad night.

"You girls remember how handsome he was, but he didn't look it now.His face was swollen, dark, red, and as it had been bright, now it wasdull. Indeed, he looked sullen, shamed, sore. He was sober now. Thoughtwas written on his clouded brow. He was awakening now to the truth thatthe day before had branded him a coward and sent him out to bolster upcourage with drink. His vanity had begun to bleed. He knew, if hisfaithful comrades had not awakened to it yet, that his prestige hadbeen ruined. For a gunman, he had suffered the last degradation. He hadbeen bidden to draw and he had failed of the nerve.

"He breathed heavily; his eyes were not clear; his hands were shaky.Almost I pitied this rustler who very soon must face an incrediblyswift and mercilessly fatal Ranger. Face him, too, suddenly, as if thegrave had opened to give up its dead.

"Friends and comrades of this center group passed to and fro, andthere was much lazy, merry, though not loud, talk. The whole crowd wasstill half-asleep. It certainly was an auspicious hour for Steele toconfront them, since that duty was imperative. No man knew the stunningparalyzing effect of surprise better than Steele. I, of course, musttake my cue from him, or the sudden development of events.

"But Jack Blome did not enter into my calculations. I gave him, atmost, about a minute to live after Steele entered the place. I meant tokeep sharp eyes all around. I knew, once with a gun out, Steele couldkill Blome's comrades at the table as quick as lightning, if he chose.I rather thought my game was to watch his outside partners. This wasright, and as it turned out, enabled me to save Steele's life.

"Moments passed and still the Ranger did not come. I began to getnervous. Had he been stopped? I scouted the idea. Who could havestopped him, then? Probably the time seemed longer than it really was.Morton showed the strain, also. Other men looked drawn, haggard,waiting as if expecting a thunderbolt. Once in my roving gaze I caughtBlandy's glinty eye on me. I didn't like the gleam. I said to myselfI'd watch him if I had to do it out of the back of my head. Blandy, bythe way, is—was—I should say, the Hope So bartender." Istopped to clear my throat and get my breath.

"Was," whispered Sally. She quivered with excitement. Miss Sampsonbent eyes upon me that would have stirred a stone man.

"Yes, he was once," I replied ambiguously, but mayhap my grimnessbetrayed the truth. "Don't hurry me, Sally. I guarantee you'll be sickenough presently.

"Well, I kept my eyes shifty. And I reckon I'll never forget thatroom. Likely I saw what wasn't really there. In the excitement, thesuspense, I must have made shadows into real substance. Anyway, therewas the half-circle of bearded, swarthy men around Blome's table. Therewere the four rustlers—Blome brooding, perhaps vaguely,spiritually, listening to a knock; there was Bo Snecker, recklessyouth, fondling a flower he had, putting the stem in his glass, then tohis lips, and lastly into the buttonhole of Blome's vest; there wasHilliard, big, gloomy, maybe with his cavernous eyes seeing the hellwhere I expected he'd soon be; and last, the little dusty, scalyPickens, who looked about to leap and sting some one.

"In the lull of the general conversation I heard Pickens say: 'Jack,drink up an' come out of it. Every man has an off day. You've gambledlong enough to know every feller gits called. An' as Steele has cashed,what the hell do you care?

"Hilliard nodded his ghoul's head and blinked his dead eyes. BoSnecker laughed. It wasn't any different laugh from any other boy's. Iremembered then that he killed Hoden. I began to sweat fire. WouldSteele ever come?

"'Jim, the ole man hed cold feet an' he's give 'em to Jack,' saidBo. 'It ain't nothin' to lose your nerve once. Didn't I run like ascared jack-rabbit from Steele? Watch me if he comes to life, as theole man hinted!'

"'About mebbe Steele wasn't in the 'dobe at all. Aw, thet's a joke!I seen him in bed. I seen his shadder. I heard his shots comin' fromthe room. Jack, you seen an' heerd same as me.'

"'Sure. I know the Ranger's cashed,' replied Blome. 'It's not that.I'm sore, boys.'

"'Deader 'n a door-nail in hell!' replied Pickens, louder, as helifted his glass. 'Here's to Lone Star Steele's ghost! An' if I seen itthis minnit I'd ask it to waltz with me!'

"The back door swung violently, and Steele, huge as a giant, plungedthrough and leaped square in front of that table.

"Some one of them let out a strange, harsh cry. It wasn't Blome orSnecker—probably Pickens. He dropped the glass he had lifted. Thecry had stilled the room, so the breaking of the glass was plainlyheard. For a space that must have been short, yet seemed long,everybody stood tight. Steele with both hands out and down, leaned alittle, in a way I had never seen him do. It was the position of agreyhound, but that was merely the body of him. Steele's nerve, hisspirit, his meaning was there, like lightning about to strike. Blomemaintained a ghastly, stricken silence.

"Then the instant was plain when he realized this was no ghost ofSteele, but the Ranger in the flesh. Blome's whole frame rippled asthought jerked him out of his trance. His comrades sat stone-still.Then Hilliard and Pickens dived without rising from the table. Theirhaste broke the spell.

"I wish I could tell it as quick as it happened. But Bo Snecker,turning white as a sheet, stuck to Blome. All the others failed him, ashe had guessed they would fail. Low curses and exclamations wereuttered by men sliding and pressing back, but the principals were mute.I was thinking hard, yet I had no time to get to Steele's side. I, likethe rest, was held fast. But I kept my eyes sweeping around, then backagain to that center pair.

"Blome slowly rose. I think he did it instinctively. Because if hehad expected his first movement to start the action he never would havemoved. Snecker sat partly on the rail of his chair, with both feetsquare on the floor, and he never twitched a muscle. There was astriking difference in the looks of these two rustlers. Snecker hadburning holes for eyes in his white face. At the last he was staunch,defiant, game to the core. He didn't think. But Blome faced death andknew it. It was infinitely more than the facing of foes, the taking ofstock, preliminary to the even break. Blome's attitude was that of atrapped wolf about to start into savage action; nevertheless, equallyit was the pitifully weak stand of a ruffian against ruthless andpowerful law.

"The border of Pecos County could have had no greater lesson thanthis—Blome face-to-face with the Ranger. That part of the borderpresent saw its most noted exponent of lawlessness a coward, almostpowerless to go for his gun, fatally sure of his own doom.

"But that moment, seeming so long, really so short, had to end.Blome made a spasmodic upheaval of shoulder and arm. Snecker a secondlater flashed into movement.

"Steele blurred in my sight. His action couldn't be followed. But Isaw his gun, waving up, flame red once—twice—and thereports almost boomed together.

"Blome bent forward, arm down, doubled up, and fell over the tableand slid to the floor.

"But Snecker's gun cracked with Steele's last shot. I heard thebullet strike Steele. It made me sick as if it had hit me. But Steelenever budged. Snecker leaped up, screaming, his gun sputtering to thefloor. His left hand swept to his right arm, which had been shatteredby Steele's bullet.

"Blood streamed everywhere. His screams were curses, and then ended,testifying to a rage hardly human. Then, leaping, he went down on hisknees after the gun.

"Don't pick it up," called Steele; his command would have checkedanyone save an insane man. For an instant it even held Snecker. On hisknees, right arm hanging limp, left extended, and face ghastly withagony and fiendish fury, he was certainly an appalling sight.

"'Bo, you're courtin' death,' called a hard voice from thecrowd.

"'Snecker, wait. Don't make me kill you!' cried Steele swiftly.'You're still a boy. Surrender! You'll outlive your sentence manyyears. I promise clemency. Hold, you fool!'

"But Snecker was not to be denied the last game move. He scrabbledfor his gun. Just then something, a breathtaking intuition—I'llnever know what—made me turn my head. I saw the bartenderdeliberately aim a huge gun at Steele. If he had not been so slow, Iwould have been too late. I whirled and shot. Talk about nick of time!Blandy pulled trigger just as my bullet smashed into his head.

"He dropped dead behind the bar and his gun dropped in front. But hehad hit Steele.

"The Ranger staggered, almost fell. I thought he was done, and,yelling, I sped to him.

"But he righted himself. Then I wheeled again. Someone in the crowdkilled Bo Snecker as he wobbled up with his gun. That was the signalfor a wild run for outdoors, for cover. I heard the crack of guns andwhistle of lead. I shoved Steele back of the bar, falling over Blandyas I did so.

"When I got up Steele was leaning over the bar with a gun in eachhand. There was a hot fight then for a minute or so, but I didn't firea shot. Morton and his crowd were busy. Men ran everywhere, shooting,ducking, cursing. The room got blue with smoke till you couldn't see,and then the fight changed to the street.

"Steele and I ran out. There was shooting everywhere. Morton's crowdappeared to be in pursuit of rustlers in all directions. I ran withSteele, and did not observe his condition until suddenly he fell rightdown in the street. Then he looked so white and so bloody I thoughthe'd stopped another bullet and—"

Here Miss Sampson's agitation made it necessary for me to halt mystory, and I hoped she had heard enough. But she was not sick, as Sallyappeared to me; she simply had been overcome by emotion. And presently,with a blaze in her eyes that showed how her soul was aflame withrighteous wrath at these rustlers and ruffians, and how, whether sheknew it or not, the woman in her loved a fight, she bade me go on. So Ipersevered, and, with poor little Sally sagging against me, I went onwith the details of that fight.

I told how Steele rebounded from his weakness and could no more havebeen stopped than an avalanche. For all I saw, he did not use his gunsagain. Here, there, everywhere, as Morton and his squad cornered arustler, Steele would go in, ordering surrender, promising protection.He seemed to have no thoughts of bullets. I could not hold him back,and it was hard to keep pace with him. How many times he was shot at Ihad no idea, but it was many. He dragged forth this and that rustler,and turned them all over to Morton to be guarded. More than once heprotected a craven rustler from the summary dealing Morton wanted tosee in order.

I told Miss Sampson particularly how Steele appeared to me, what hiseffect was on these men, how toward the end of the fight rustlers wereappealing to him to save them from these new-born vigilantes. Ibelieved I drew a picture of the Ranger that would live forever in herheart of hearts. If she were a hero-worshiper she would have herfill.

One thing that was strange to me—leaving fight, action, blood,peril out of the story—the singular exultation, for want of somebetter term, that I experienced in recalling Steele's look, hiswonderful cold, resistless, inexplicable presence, his unquenchablespirit which was at once deadly and merciful. Other men would havekilled where he saved. I recalled this magnificent spiritual somethingabout him, remembered it strongest in the ring of his voice as heappealed to Bo Snecker not to force him to kill. Then I told how weleft a dozen prisoners under guard and went back to the Hope So to findBlome where he had fallen. Steele's bullet had cut one of the petals ofthe rose Snecker had playfully put in the rustler's buttonhole. Brightand fatal target for an eye like Steele's! Bo Snecker lay clutching hisgun, his face set rigidly in that last fierce expression of his savagenature. There were five other dead men on the floor, and, significantof the work of Steele's unknown allies, Hilliard and Pickens were amongthem.

"Steele and I made for camp then," I concluded. "We didn't speak aword on the way out. When we reached camp all Steele said was for me togo off and leave him alone. He looked sick. I went off, only not veryfar. I knew what was wrong with him, and it wasn't bullet-wounds. I wasnear when he had his spell and fought it out.

"Strange how spilling blood affects some men! It never bothered memuch. I hope I'm human, too. I certainly felt an awful joy when I sentthat bullet into Blandy's bloated head in time. And I'll always feelthat way about it. But Steele's different."

Chapter 12

TORN TWO WAYS

Steele lay in a shady little glade, partly walled by the masses ofupreared rocks that we used as a lookout point. He was asleep, yet farfrom comfortable. The bandage I had put around his head had been madefrom strips of soiled towel, and, having collected sundry bloody spots,it was an unsightly affair. There was a blotch of dried blood down oneside of Steele's face. His shirt bore more dark stains, and in oneplace was pasted fast to his shoulder where a bandage marked thelocation of his other wound. A number of green flies were crawling overhim and buzzing around his head. He looked helpless, despite his giantsize; and certainly a great deal worse off than I had intimated, and,in fact, than he really was.

Miss Sampson gasped when she saw him and both her hands flew to herbreast.

"Girls, don't make any noise," I whispered. "I'd rather he didn'twake suddenly to find you here. Go round behind the rocks there. I'llwake him, and call you presently."

They complied with my wish, and I stepped down to Steele and gavehim a little shake. He awoke instantly.

"Hello!" I said, "Want a drink?"

"Water or champagne?" he inquired.

I stared at him. "I've some champagne behind the rocks," Iadded.

"Water, you locoed son of a gun!"

He looked about as thirsty as a desert coyote; also, he lookedflighty. I was reaching for the canteen when I happened to think whatpleasure it would be to Miss Sampson to minister to him, and I drewback. "Wait a little." Then with an effort I plunged. "Vaughn, listen.Miss Sampson and Sally are here."

I thought he was going to jump up, he started so violently, and Ipressed him back.

"She—Why, she's been here all the time—Russ, you haven'tdouble-crossed me?"

"Steele!" I exclaimed. He was certainly out of his head.

"Pure accident, old man."

He appeared to be half stunned, yet an eager, strange, haunting lookshone in his eyes. "Fool!" he exclaimed.

"Can't you make the ordeal easier for her?" I asked.

"This'll be hard on Diane. She's got to be told things!"

"Ah!" breathed Steele, sinking back. "Make it easier forher—Russ, you're a damned schemer. You have given me thedouble-cross. You have and she's going to."

"We're in bad, both of us," I replied thickly. "I've ideas, crazyenough maybe. I'm between the devil and the deep sea, I tell you. I'mabout ready to show yellow. All the same, I say, see Miss Sampson andtalk to her, even if you can't talk straight."

"All right, Russ," he replied hurriedly. "But, God, man, don't Ilook a sight! All this dirt and blood!"

"Well, old man, if she takes that bungled mug of yours in her lap,you can be sure you're loved. You needn't jump out of your boots! Braceup now, for I'm going to bring the girls." As I got up to go I heardhim groan. I went round behind the stones and found the girls. "Comeon," I said. "He's awake now, but a little queer. Feverish. He getsthat way sometimes. It won't last long." I led Miss Sampson and Sallyback into the shade of our little camp glade.

Steele had gotten worse all in a moment. Also, the fool had pulledthe bandage off his head; his wound had begun to bleed anew, and theflies were paying no attention to his weak efforts to brush them away.His head rolled as we reached his side, and his eyes were certainlywild and wonderful and devouring enough. "Who's that?" he demanded.

"Easy there, old man," I replied. "I've brought the girls." MissSampson shook like a leaf in the wind.

"So you've come to see me die?" asked Steele in a deep and hollowvoice. Miss Sampson gave me a lightning glance of terror.

"He's only off his head," I said. "Soon as we wash and bathe hishead, cool his temperature, he'll be all right."

"Oh!" cried Miss Sampson, and dropped to her knees, flinging hergloves aside. She lifted Steele's head into her lap. When I saw hertears falling upon his face I felt worse than a villain. She bent overhim for a moment, and one of the tender hands at his cheeks met theflow of fresh blood and did not shrink. "Sally," she said, "bring thescarf out of my coat. There's a veil too. Bring that. Russ, you get mesome water—pour some in the pan there."

"Water!" whispered Steele.

She gave him a drink. Sally came with the scarf and veil, and thenshe backed away to the stone, and sat there. The sight of blood hadmade her a little pale and weak. Miss Sampson's hands trembled and hertears still fell, but neither interfered with her tender and skillfuldressing of that bullet wound.

Steele certainly said a lot of crazy things. "But why'd youcome—why're you so good—when you don't love me?"

"Oh, but—I do—love you," whispered Miss Sampsonbrokenly.

"How do I know?"

"I am here. I tell you."

There was a silence, during which she kept on bathing his head, andhe kept on watching her. "Diane!" he broke out suddenly.

"Yes—yes."

"That won't stop the pain in my head."

"Oh, I hope so."

"Kiss me—that will," he whispered. She obeyed as a child mighthave, and kissed his damp forehead close to the red furrow where thebullet cut.

"Not there," Steele whispered.

Then blindly, as if drawn by a magnet, she bent to his lips. I couldnot turn away my head, though my instincts were delicate enough. Ibelieve that kiss was the first kiss of love for both Diane Sampson andVaughn Steele. It was so strange and so long, and somehow beautiful.Steele looked rapt. I could only see the side of Diane's face, and thatwas white, like snow. After she raised her head she seemed unable, fora moment, to take up her task where it had been broken off, and Steelelay as if he really were dead. Here I got up, and seating myself besideSally, I put an arm around her. "Sally dear, there are others," Isaid.

"Oh, Russ—what's to come of it all?" she faltered, and thenshe broke down and began to cry softly. I would have been only too gladto tell her what hung in the balance, one way or another, had I known.But surely, catastrophe! Then I heard Steele's voice again and itshuskiness, its different tone, made me fearful, made me strain my earswhen I tried, or thought I tried, not to listen.

"Diane, you know how hard my duty is, don't you?"

"Yes, I know—I think I know."

"You've guessed—about your father?"

"I've seen all along you must clash. But it needn't be so bad. If Ican only bring you two together—Ah! please don't speak any more.You're excited now, just not yourself."

"No, listen. We must clash, your father and I. Diane, he'snot—"

"Not what he seems! Oh, I know, to my sorrow."

"What do you know?" She seemed drawn by a will stronger than herown. "To my shame I know. He has been greedy, crafty,unscrupulous—dishonest."

"Diane, if he were only that! That wouldn't make my duty torture.That wouldn't ruin your life. Dear, sweet girl, forgive me—yourfather's—"

"Hush, Vaughn. You're growing excited. It will not do.Please—please—"

"Diane, your father's—chief of this—gang that I came tobreak up."

"My God, hear him! How dare you—Oh, Vaughn, poor, poor boy,you're out of your mind! Sally, Russ, what shall we do? He's worse.He's saying the most dreadful things! I—I can't bear to hearhim!"

Steele heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. I walked away with Sally,led her to and fro in a shady aisle beyond the rocks, and tried tocomfort her as best I could. After a while, when we returned to theglade, Miss Sampson had considerable color in her cheeks, and Steelewas leaning against the rock, grave and sad. I saw that he hadrecovered and he had reached the critical point. "Hello, Russ," hesaid. "Sprung a surprise on me, didn't you? Miss Sampson says I've beena little flighty while she bandaged me up. I hope I wasn't bad. Icertainly feel better now. I seem to—to have dreamed."

Miss Sampson flushed at his concluding words. Then silence ensued. Icould not think of anything to say and Sally was dumb. "You all seemvery strange," said Miss Sampson.

When Steele's face turned gray to his lips I knew the moment hadcome. "No doubt. We all feel so deeply for you," he said.

"Me? Why?"

"Because the truth must no longer be concealed."

It was her turn to blanch, and her eyes, strained, dark as night,flashed from one of us to the other.

"The truth! Tell it then." She had more courage than any of us.

"Miss Sampson, your father is the leader of this gang of rustlers Ihave been tracing. Your cousin George Wright, is his right-handman."

Miss Sampson heard, but she did not believe.

"Tell her, Russ," Steele added huskily, turning away. Wildly shewhirled to me. I would have given anything to have been able to lie toher. As it was I could not speak. But she read the truth in my face.And she collapsed as if she had been shot. I caught her and laid her onthe grass. Sally, murmuring and crying, worked over her. I helped. ButSteele stood aloof, dark and silent, as if he hoped she would neverreturn to consciousness.

When she did come to, and began to cry, to moan, to talkfrantically, Steele staggered away, while Sally and I made futileefforts to calm her. All we could do was to prevent her doing herselfviolence. Presently, when her fury of emotion subsided, and she beganto show a hopeless stricken shame, I left Sally with her and went off alittle way myself. How long I remained absent I had no idea, but it wasno inconsiderable length of time. Upon my return, to my surprise andrelief, Miss Sampson had recovered her composure, or at least,self-control. She stood leaning against the rock where Steele had been,and at this moment, beyond any doubt, she was supremely more beautifulthan I had ever seen her. She was white, tragic, wonderful. "Where isMr. Steele?" she asked. Her tone and her look did not seem at allsuggestive of the mood I expected to find her in—one ofbeseeching agony, of passionate appeal to Steele not to ruin herfather.

"I'll find him," I replied turning away.

Steele was readily found and came back with me. He was as unlikehimself as she was strange. But when they again faced each other, thenthey were indeed new to me.

"I want to know—what you must do," she said. Steele told herbriefly, and his voice was stern.

"Those—those criminals outside of my own family don't concernme now. But can my father and cousin be taken without bloodshed? I wantto know the absolute truth." Steele knew that they could not be, but hecould not tell her so. Again she appealed to me. Thus my part in thesituation grew harder. It hurt me so that it made me angry, and myanger made me cruelly frank.

"No. It can't be done. Sampson and Wright will be desperately hardto approach, which'll make the chances even. So, if you must know thetruth, it'll be your father and cousin to go under, or it'll be Steeleor me, or any combination luck breaks—or all of us!"

Her self-control seemed to fly to the four winds. Swift as light sheflung herself down before Steele, against his knees, clasped her armsround him. "Good God! Miss Sampson, you mustn't do that!" imploredSteele. He tried to break her hold with shaking hands, but he couldnot.

"Listen! Listen!" she cried, and her voice made Steele, and Sallyand me also, still as the rock behind us. "Hear me! Do you think I begyou to let my father go, for his sake? No! No! I have gloried in yourRanger duty. I have loved you because of it. But some awful tragedythreatens here. Listen, Vaughn Steele. Do not you deny me, as I kneelhere. I love you. I never loved any other man. But not for my love do Ibeseech you.

"There is no help here unless you forswear your duty. Forswear it!Do not kill my father—the father of the woman who loves you.Worse and more horrible it would be to let my father kill you! It's Iwho make this situation unnatural, impossible. You must forswear yourduty. I can live no longer if you don't. I pray you—" Her voicehad sunk to a whisper, and now it failed. Then she seemed to get intohis arms, to wind herself around him, her hair loosened, her faceupturned, white and spent, her arms blindly circling his neck. She wasall love, all surrender, all supreme appeal, and these, without herbeauty, would have made her wonderful. But her beauty! Would not Steelehave been less than a man or more than a man had he been impervious toit? She was like some snow-white exquisite flower, broken, and suddenlyblighted. She was a woman then in all that made a womanhelpless—in all that made her mysterious, sacred, absolutely andunutterably more than any other thing in life. All this time my gazehad been riveted on her only. But when she lifted her white face, triedto lift it, rather, and he drew her up, and then when both white facesmet and seemed to blend in something rapt, awesome, tragic aslife—then I saw Steele.

I saw a god, a man as beautiful as she was. They might have stood,indeed, they did stand alone in the heart of a desert—alone inthe world—alone with their love and their agony. It was a solemnand profound moment for me. I faintly realized how great it must havebeen for them, yet all the while there hammered at my mind the vitalthing at stake. Had they forgotten, while I remembered? It might havebeen only a moment that he held her. It might have been my ownagitation that conjured up such swift and whirling thoughts. But if mymind sometimes played me false my eyes never had. I thought I saw DianeSampson die in Steele's arms; I could have sworn his heart wasbreaking; and mine was on the point of breaking, too.

How beautiful they were! How strong, how mercifully strong, yetshaken, he seemed! How tenderly, hopelessly, fatally appealing she wasin that hour of her broken life! If I had been Steele I would haveforsworn my duty, honor, name, service for her sake. Had I mind enoughto divine his torture, his temptation, his narrow escape? I seemed tofeel them, at any rate, and while I saw him with a beautiful light onhis face, I saw him also ghastly, ashen, with hands that shook as theygroped around her, loosing her, only to draw her convulsively backagain. It was the saddest sight I had ever seen. Death was nothing toit. Here was the death of happiness. He must wreck the life of thewoman who loved him and whom he loved. I was becoming half frantic,almost ready to cry out the uselessness of this scene, almost on thepoint of pulling them apart, when Sally dragged me away. Her clinginghold then made me feel perhaps a little of what Miss Sampson's musthave been to Steele.

How different the feeling when it was mine! I could have thrust themapart, after all my schemes and tricks, to throw them together, invague, undefined fear of their embrace. Still, when love beat at my ownpulses, when Sally's soft hand held me tight and she leaned tome—that was different. I was glad to be led away—glad tohave a chance to pull myself together. But was I to have that chance?Sally, who in the stife of emotion had been forgotten, might have to bereckoned with. Deep within me, some motive, some purpose, was beingborn in travail. I did not know what, but instinctively I feared Sally.I feared her because I loved her. My wits came back to combat mypassion. This hazel-eyed girl, soft, fragile creature, might be harderto move than the Ranger. But could she divine a motive scarcely yetformed in my brain? Suddenly I became cool, with craft to conceal.

"Oh, Russ! What's the matter with you?" she queried quickly. "Can'tDiane and Steele, you and I ride away from this bloody, bad country?Our own lives, our happiness, come first, do they not?"

"They ought to, I suppose," I muttered, fighting against theinsidious sweetness of her. I knew then I must keep my lips shut orbetray myself.

"You look so strange. Russ, I wouldn't want you to kiss me with thatmouth. Thin, shut lips—smile! Soften and kiss me! Oh, you're socold, strange! You chill me!"

"Dear child, I'm badly shaken," I said. "Don't expect me to benatural yet. There are things you can't guess. So much dependedupon—Oh, never mind! I'll go now. I want to be alone, to thinkthings out. Let me go, Sally."

She held me only the tighter, tried to pull my face around. Howintuitively keen women were. She felt my distress, and that growing,stern, and powerful thing I scarcely dared to acknowledge to myself.Strangely, then, I relaxed and faced her. There was no use trying tofoil these feminine creatures. Every second I seemed to grow fartherfrom her. The swiftness of this mood of mine was my only hope. Irealized I had to get away quickly, and make up my mind after that whatI intended to do. It was an earnest, soulful, and loving pair of eyesthat I met. What did she read in mine? Her hands left mine to slide tomy shoulders, to slip behind my neck, to lock there like steel bands.Here was my ordeal. Was it to be as terrible as Steele's had been? Ithought it would be, and I swore by all that was rising grim and coldin me that I would be strong. Sally gave a little cry that cut like ablade in my heart, and then she was close-pressed upon me, herquivering breast beating against mine, her eyes, dark as night now,searching my soul.

She saw more than I knew, and with her convulsive clasp of meconfirmed my half-formed fears. Then she kissed me, kisses that had nomore of girlhood or coquetry or joy or anything but woman's passion toblind and hold and tame. By their very intensity I sensed the tiger inme. And it was the tiger that made her new and alluring sweetness failof its intent. I did not return one of her kisses. Just one kiss givenback—and I would be lost.

"Oh, Russ, I'm your promised wife!" she whispered at my lips. "Soon,you said! I want it to be soon! To-morrow!" All the subtlety, theintelligence, the cunning, the charm, the love that made up the wholeof woman's power, breathed in her pleading. What speech known to thetongue could have given me more torture? She chose the strongest weaponnature afforded her. And had the calamity to consider been mine alone,I would have laughed at it and taken Sally at her word. Then I told herin short, husky sentences what had depended on Steele: that I loved theRanger Service, but loved him more; that his character, his life,embodied this Service I loved; that I had ruined him; and now I wouldforestall him, do his work, force the issue myself or die in theattempt.

"Dearest, it's great of you!" she cried. "But the cost! If you killone of my kin I'll—I'll shrink from you! If you'rekilled—Oh, the thought is dreadful! You've done your share. LetSteele—some other Ranger finish it. I swear I don't plead for myuncle or my cousin, for their sakes. If they are vile, let them suffer.Russ, it's you I think of! Oh, my pitiful little dreams! I wanted so tosurprise you with my beautiful home—the oranges, the mossy trees,the mocking-birds. Now you'll never, never come!"

"But, Sally, there's a chance—a mere chance I can do the jobwithout—"

Then she let go of me. She had given up. I thought she was going todrop, and drew her toward the stone. I cursed the day I ever saw Nealand the service. Where, now, was the arch prettiness, the gay, sweetcharm of Sally Langdon? She looked as if she were suffering from adesperate physical injury. And her final breakdown showed how, one wayor another, I was lost to her.

As she sank on the stone I had my supreme wrench, and it left menumb, hard, in a cold sweat. "Don't betray me! I'll forestall him! He'splanned nothing for to-day," I whispered hoarsely. "Sally—youdearest, gamest little girl in the world! Remember I loved you, even ifI couldn't prove it your way. It's for his sake. I'm to blame for theirlove. Some day my act will look different to you. Good-by!"

Chapter 13

RUSS SITTELL IN ACTION

I ran like one possessed of devils down that rough slope, hurdlingthe stones and crashing through the brush, with a sound in my ears thatwas not all the rush of the wind. When I reached a level I keptrunning; but something dragged at me. I slowed down to a walk. Never inmy life had I been victim of such sensation. I must flee from somethingthat was drawing me back. Apparently one side of my mind wasunalterably fixed, while the other was a hurrying conglomeration offlashes of thought, reception of sensations. I could not get calm.

By and by, almost involuntarily, with a fleeting look backward as ifin expectation of pursuit, I hurried faster on. Action seemed to makemy state less oppressive; it eased the weight upon me. But the fartherI went on, the harder it was to continue. I was turning my back uponlove, happiness, success in life, perhaps on life itself. I was doingthat, but my decision had not been absolute. There seemed no use to goon farther until I was absolutely sure of myself. I received a clearwarning thought that such work as seemed haunting and driving me couldnever be carried out in the mood under which I labored. I hung on tothat thought. Several times I slowed up, then stopped, only to tramp onagain.

At length, as I mounted a low ridge, Linrock lay bright and greenbefore me, not faraway, and the sight was a conclusive check. Therewere mesquites on the ridge, and I sought the shade beneath them. Itwas the noon hour, with hot, glary sun and no wind. Here I had to haveout my fight. If ever in my varied life of exciting adventure I stroveto think, to understand myself, to see through difficulties, Iassuredly strove then. I was utterly unlike myself; I could not bringthe old self back; I was not the same man I once had been. But I couldunderstand why. It was because of Sally Langdon, the gay and roguishgirl who had bewitched me, the girl whom love had made awoman—the kind of woman meant to make life beautiful for me.

I saw her changing through all those weeks, holding many of the oldtraits and graces, acquiring new character of mind and body, to becomewhat I had just fled from—a woman sweet, fair, loyal, loving,passionate.

Temptation assailed me. To have her to-morrow—my wife! She hadsaid it. Just twenty-four little hours, and she would be mine—theonly woman I had ever really coveted, the only one who had ever foundthe good in me. The thought was alluring. I followed it out, a long,happy stage-ride back to Austin, and then by train to her home where,as she had said, the oranges grew and the trees waved with streamers ofgray moss and the mocking-birds made melody. I pictured that home. Iwondered that long before I had not associated wealth and luxury withher family. Always I had owned a weakness for plantations, for theagricultural life with its open air and freedom from towns.

I saw myself riding through the cotton and rice and cane, home tothe stately old mansion, where long-eared hounds bayed me welcome and awoman looked for me and met me with happy and beautiful smiles. Theremight—therewould be children. And something new, strange,confounding with its emotion, came to life deep in my heart. Therewould be children! Sally their mother; I their father! The kind of lifea lonely Ranger always yearned for and never had! I saw it all, felt itkeenly, lived its sweetness in an hour of temptation that made me weakphysically and my spirit faint and low.

For what had I turned my back on this beautiful, all-satisfyingprospect? Was it to arrest and jail a few rustlers? Was it to meet thatmocking Sampson face to face and show him my shield and reach for mygun? Was it to kill that hated Wright? Was it to save the people ofLinrock from further greed, raids, murder? Was it to please and aid myold captain, Neal of the Rangers? Was it to save the Service to theState?

No—a thousand times no. It was for the sake of Steele. Becausehe was a wonderful man! Because I had been his undoing! Because I hadthrown Diane Sampson into his arms! That had been my great error. ThisRanger had always been the wonder and despair of his fellow officers,so magnificent a machine, so sober, temperate, chaste, so unremittinglyloyal to the Service, so strangely stern and faithful to his conceptionof the law, so perfect in his fidelity to duty. He was the model, theinspiration, the pride of all of us. To me, indeed, he represented theRanger Service. He was the incarnation of that spirit which fightingTexas had developed to oppose wildness and disorder and crime. He wouldcarry through this Linrock case; but even so, if he were not killed,his career would be ruined. He might save the Service, yet at the costof his happiness. He was not a machine; he was a man. He might be aperfect Ranger; still he was a human being.

The loveliness, the passion, the tragedy of a woman, great as theywere, had not power to shake him from his duty. Futile, hopeless, vainher love had been to influence him. But there had flashed over me withsubtle, overwhelming suggestion that not futile, not vain wasmylove to save him! Therefore, beyond and above all other claims, and byreason of my wrong to him, his claim came first.

It was then there was something cold and deathlike in my soul; itwas then I bade farewell to Sally Langdon. For I knew, whateverhappened, of one thing I was sure—I would have to kill eitherSampson or Wright. Snecker could be managed; Sampson might be trappedinto arrest; but Wright had no sense, no control, no fear. He wouldsnarl like a panther and go for his gun, and he would have to bekilled. This, of all consummations, was the one to be calculated upon.And, of course, by Sally's own words, that contingency would put meforever outside the pale for her.

I did not deceive myself; I did not accept the slightest intimationof hope; I gave her up. And then for a time regret, remorse, pain,darkness worked their will with me.

I came out of it all bitter and callous and sore, in the mostfitting of moods to undertake a difficult and deadly enterprise. MissSampson completely slipped my mind; Sally became a wraith as of someone dead; Steele began to fade. In their places came the bushy-beardedSnecker, the olive-skinned Sampson with his sharp eyes, and dark, evilfaced Wright. Their possibilities began to loom up, and with myspeculation returned tenfold more thrilling and sinister the oldstrange zest of the man-hunt.

It was about one o'clock when I strode into Linrock. The streets forthe most part were deserted. I went directly to the hall where Mortonand Zimmer, with their men, had been left by Steele to guard theprisoners. I found them camping out in the place, restless, somber,anxious. The fact that only about half the original number of prisonerswere left struck me as further indication of Morton's summary dealing.But when I questioned him as to the decrease in number, he said bluntlythat they had escaped. I did not know whether or not to believe him.But that didn't matter. I tried to get in some more questions, only Ifound that Morton and Zimmer meant to be heard first. "Where's Steele?"they demanded.

"He's out of town, in a safe place," I replied. "Too bad hurt foraction. I'm to rush through with the rest of the deal."

"That's good. We've waited long enough. This gang has been split,an' if we hurry they'll never get together again. Old man Sneckershowed up to-day. He's drawin' the outfit in again. Reckon he's waitin'for orders. Sure he's ragin' since Bo was killed. This old fox will bedangerous if he gets goin'."

"Where is he now?" I queried.

"Over at the Hope So. Must be a dozen of the gang there. But he'sthe only leader left we know of. If we get him, the rustler gang willbe broken for good. He's sent word down here for us to let ourprisoners go or there'd be a damn bloody fight. We haven't sent ouranswer yet. Was hopin' Steele would show up. An' now we're sure gladyou're back."

"Morton, I'll take the answer," I replied quickly. "Now there're twothings. Do you know if Sampson and Wright are at the ranch?"

"They were an hour ago. We had word. Zimmer saw Dick."

"All right. Have you any horses handy?"

"Sure. Those hitched outside belong to us."

"I want you to take a man with you, in a few moments, and ride roundthe back roads and up to Sampson's house. Get off and wait under thetrees till you hear me shoot or yell, then come fast."

Morton's breast heaved; he whistled as he breathed; his neckchurned. "God Almighty! Sothere the scent leads! We alwayswondered—half believed. But no one spoke—no one had anynerve." Morton moistened his lips; his face was livid; his big handsshook. "Russ, you can gamble on me."

"Good. Well, that's all. Come out and get me a horse."

When I had mounted and was half-way to the Hope So, my plan, as faras Snecker was concerned, had been formed. It was to go boldy into thesaloon, ask for the rustler, first pretend I had a reply from Mortonand then, when I had Snecker's ear, whisper a message supposedly fromSampson. If Snecker was too keen to be decoyed I could at leastsurprise him off his guard and kill him, then run for my horse. Theplan seemed clever to me. I had only one thing to fear, and that was apossibility of the rustlers having seen my part in Steele's defense theother day. That had to be risked. There were always some kind of risksto be faced.

It was scarcely a block and a half to the Hope So. Before I arrivedI knew I had been seen. When I dismounted before the door I felt cold,yet there was an exhilaration in the moment. I never stepped morenaturally and carelessly into the saloon. It was full of men. Therewere men behind the bar helping themselves. Evidently Blandy's placehad not been filled. Every face near the door was turned toward me;dark, intent, scowling, malignant they were, and made me need mynerve.

"Say, boys, I've a word for Snecker," I called, quite loud. Nobodystirred. I swept my glance over the crowd, but did not see Snecker."I'm in some hurry," I added.

"Bill ain't here," said a man at the table nearest me. "Air youcomin' from Morton?"

"Nit. But I'm not yellin' this message."

The rustler rose, and in a few long strides confronted me.

"Word from Sampson!" I whispered, and the rustler stared. "I'm inhis confidence. He's got to see Bill at once. Sampson sends word he'squit—he's done—he's through. The jig is up, and he means tohit the road out of Linrock."

"Bill'll kill him surer 'n hell," muttered the rustler. "But we allsaid it'd come to thet. An' what'd Wright say?"

"Wright! Why, he's cashed in. Didn't you-all hear? Reckon Sampsonshot him."

The rustler cursed his amaze and swung his rigid arm with fistclenched tight. "When did Wright get it?"

"A little while ago. I don't know how long. Anyway, I saw him lyin'dead on the porch. An' say, pard, I've got to rustle. Send Bill upquick as he comes. Tell him Sampson wants to turn over all his stockan' then light out."

I backed to the door, and the last I saw of the rustler he wasstanding there in a scowling amaze. I had fooled him all right. If onlyI had the luck to have Snecker come along soon. Mounting, I trotted thehorse leisurely up the street. Business and everything else was at astandstill in Linrock these days. The doors of the stores werebarricaded. Down side streets, however, I saw a few people, abuckboard, and stray cattle.

When I reached the edge of town I turned aside a little and took alook at the ruins of Steele's adobe house. The walls and debris had allbeen flattened, scattered about, and if anything of, value had escapeddestruction it had disappeared. Steele, however, had left very littlethat would have been of further use to him. Turning again, I continuedon my way up to the ranch. It seemed that, though I was eager ratherthan backward, my mind seized avidly upon suggestion or attraction, asif to escape the burden of grim pondering. When about half-way acrossthe flat, and perhaps just out of gun-shot sound of Sampson's house, Iheard the rapid clatter of hoofs on the hard road. I wheeled, expectingto see Morton and his man, and was ready to be chagrined at theircoming openly instead of by the back way. But this was only one man,and it was not Morton. He seemed of big build, and he bestrode a finebay horse. There evidently was reason for hurry, too. At about onehundred yards, when I recognized Snecker, complete astonishmentpossessed me.

Well it was I had ample time to get on my guard! In wheeling myhorse I booted him so hard that he reared. As I had been warm I had mysombrero over the pommel of the saddle. And when the head of my horseblocked any possible sight of movement of my hand, I pulled my gun andheld it concealed under my sombrero. This rustler had bothered me in mycalculations. And here he came galloping, alone. Exultation would havebeen involuntary then but for the sudden shock, and then the coldsettling of temper, the breathless suspense. Snecker pulled his hugebay and pounded to halt abreast of me. Luck favored me. Had I ever hadanything but luck in these dangerous deals?

Snecker seemed to fume; internally there was a volcano. His widesombrero and bushy beard hid all of his face except his eyes, whichwere deepset furnaces. He, too, like his lieutenant, had been carriedcompletely off balance by the strange message apparently from Sampson.It was Sampson's name that had fooled and decoyed these men. "Hey!You're the feller who jest left word fer some one at the Hope So?" heasked.

"Yes," I replied, while with my left hand I patted the neck of myhorse, holding him still.

"Sampson wants me bad, eh?"

"Reckon there's only one man who wants you more."

Steadily, I met his piercing gaze. This was a rustler not to be longvictim to any ruse. I waited in cold surety.

"You thet cowboy, Russ?" he asked.

"I was—and I'm not!" I replied significantly.

The violent start of this violent outlaw was a rippling jerk ofpassion. "What'n hell!" he ejaculated.

"Bill, you're easy."

"Who're you?" he uttered hoarsely.

I watched Snecker with hawk-like keenness. "United States deputymarshal. Bill, you're under arrest!"

He roared a mad curse as his hand clapped down to his gun. Then Ifired through my sombrero. Snecker's big horse plunged. The rustlerfell back, and one of his legs pitched high as he slid off the lungingsteed. His other foot caught in the stirrup. This fact terriblyfrightened the horse. He bolted, dragging the rustler for a dozenjumps. Then Snecker's foot slipped loose. He lay limp and still andshapeless in the road. I did not need to go back to look him over.

But to make assurance doubly sure, I dismounted, and went back towhere he lay. My bullet had gone where it had been aimed. As I rode upinto Sampson's court-yard and turned in to the porch I heard loud andangry voices. Sampson and Wright were quarrelling again. How my luckystar guided me! I had no plan of action, but my brain was equal to ahundred lightning-swift evolutions. The voices ceased. The men hadheard the horse. Both of them came out on the porch. In an instant Iwas again the lolling impudent cowboy, half under the influence ofliquor.

"It's only Russ and he's drunk," said George Wrightcontemptuously.

"I heard horses trotting off there," replied Sampson. "Maybe thegirls are coming. I bet I teach them not to run off again—Hello,Russ."

He looked haggard and thin, but seemed amiable enough. He was in hisshirt-sleeves and he had come out with a gun in his hand. This he laidon a table near the wall. He wore no belt. I rode right up to the porchand, greeting them laconically, made a show of a somewhat tangle-footedcowboy dismounting. The moment I got off and straightened up, I askedno more. The game was mine. It was the great hour of my life and I metit as I had never met another. I looked and acted what I pretended tobe, though a deep and intense passion, an almost ungovernable suspense,an icy sickening nausea abided with me. All I needed, all I wanted wasto get Sampson and Wright together, or failing that, to maneuver intosuch position that I had any kind of a chance. Sampson's gun on thetable made three distinct objects for me to watch and two of them couldchange position.

"What do you want here?" demanded Wright. He was red, bloated,thick-lipped, all fiery and sweaty from drink, though sober on themoment, and he had the expression of a desperate man in his last stand.Itwas his last stand, though he was ignorant of that.

"Me—Say, Wright, I ain't fired yet," I replied, in slow-risingresentment.

"Well, you're fired now," he replied insolently.

"Who fires me, I'd like to know?" I walked up on the porch and I hada cigarette in one hand, a match in the other. I struck the match.

"I do," said Wright.

I studied him with apparent amusement. It had taken only one glancearound for me to divine that Sampson would enjoy any kind of a clashbetween Wright and me. "Huh! You fired me once before an' it didn't go,Wright. I reckon you don't stack up here as strong as you think."

He was facing the porch, moody, preoccupied, somber, all the time.Only a little of his mind was concerned with me. Manifestly there werestrong forces at work. Both men were strained to a last degree, andWright could be made to break at almost a word. Sampson laughedmockingly at this sally of mine, and that stung Wright. He stopped hispacing and turned his handsome, fiery eyes on me. "Sampson, I won'tstand this man's impudence."

"Aw, Wright, cut that talk. I'm not impudent. Sampson knows I'm agood fellow, on the square, and I have you sized up about O.K."

"All the same, Russ, you'd better dig out," said Sampson. "Don'tkick up any fuss. We're busy with deals to-day. And I expectvisitors."

"Sure. I won't stay around where I ain't wanted," I replied. Then Ilit my cigarette and did not move an inch out of my tracks.

Sampson sat in a chair near the door; the table upon which lay hisgun stood between him and Wright. This position did not invite me tostart anything. But the tension had begun to be felt. Sampson had hissharp gaze on me. "What'd you come for, anyway?" he asked suddenly.

"Well, I had some news I was asked to fetch in."

"Get it out of you then."

"See here now, Mr. Sampson, the fact is I'm a tender-hearted fellow.I hate to hurt people's feelin's. And if I was to spring this news inMr. Wright's hearin', why, such a sensitive, high-tempered gentleman ashe would go plumb off his nut." Unconcealed sarcasm was the dominantnote in that speech. Wright flared up, yet he was eagerly curious.Sampson, probably, thought I was only a little worse for drink, and butfor the way I rubbed Wright he would not have tolerated me at all.

"What's this news? You needn't be afraid of my feelings," saidWright.

"Ain't so sure of that," I drawled. "It concerns the lady you'resweet on, an' the ranger you ain't sweet on."

Sampson jumped up. "Russ, had Diane gone out to meet Steele?" heasked angrily.

"Sure she had," I replied.

I thought Wright would choke. He was thick-necked anyway, and thegush of blood made him tear at the soft collar of his shirt. Both menwere excited now, moving about, beginning to rouse. I awaited mychance, patient, cold, all my feelings shut in the vise of my will.

"How do you know she met Steele?" demanded Sampson.

"I was there. I met Sally at the same time."

"But why should my daughter meet this Ranger?"

"She's in love with him and he's in love with her."

The simple statement might have had the force of a juggernaut. Ireveled in Wright's state, but I felt sorry for Sampson. He had notoutlived his pride. Then I saw the leaping thought—would thisdaughter side against him? Would she help to betray him? He seemed toshrivel up, to grow old while I watched him.

Wright, finding his voice, cursed Diane, cursed the Ranger, thenSampson, then me.

"You damned, selfish fool!" cried Sampson, in deep, bitter scorn."All you think of is yourself. Your loss of the girl! Think once ofme—my home—my life!"

Then the connection subtly put out by Sampson apparently dawned uponthe other. Somehow, through this girl, her father and cousin were to bebetrayed. I got that impression, though I could not tell how true itwas. Certainly, Wright's jealousy was his paramount emotion.

Sampson thrust me sidewise off the porch. "Go away," he ordered. Hedid not look around to see if I came back. Quickly I leaped to myformer position. He confronted Wright. He was beyond the table wherethe gun lay. They were close together. My moment had come. The game wasmine—and a ball of fire burst in my brain to race all overme.

"To hell with you!" burst out Wright incoherently. He was frenzied."I'll have her or nobody else will!"

"You never will," returned Sampson stridently. "So help me God, I'drather see her Ranger Steele's wife than yours!"

While Wright absorbed that shock Sampson leaned toward him, all ofhate and menace in his mien. They had forgotten the half-drunkencowboy. "Wright, you made me what I am," continued Sampson. "I backedyou, protected you, finally I went in with you. Now it's ended. I quityou. I'm done!" Their gray, passion-corded faces were still asstones.

"Gentlemen," I called in clear, high, far-reaching voice, theintonation of authority, "you're both done!"

They wheeled to confront me, to see my leveled gun. "Don't move! Nota muscle! Not a finger!" I warned. Sampson read what Wright had not themind to read. His face turned paler gray, to ashen.

"What d'ye mean?" yelled Wright fiercely, shrilly. It was not in himto obey my command, to see impending death. All quivering and strung,yet with perfect control, I raised my left hand to turn back a lapel ofmy open vest. The silver shield flashed brightly.

"United States deputy marshal in service of Ranger Steele!"

Wright howled like a dog. With barbarous and insane fury, withsheer, impotent folly, he swept a clawing hand for his gun. My shotbroke his action as it cut short his life. Before Wright even tottered,before he loosed the gun, Sampson leaped behind him, clasped him withhis left arm, quick as lightning jerked the gun from both clutchingfingers and sheath. I shot at Sampson, then again, then a third time.All my bullets sped into the upheld nodding Wright. Sampson hadprotected himself with the body of the dead man. I had seen redflashes, puffs of smoke, had heard quick reports. Something stung myleft arm. Then a blow like wind, light of sound yet shocking in impact,struck me, knocked me flat. The hot rend of lead followed the blow. Myheart seemed to explode, yet my mind kept extraordinarily clear andrapid.

I raised myself, felt a post at my shoulder, leaned on it. I heardSampson work the action of Wright's gun. I heard the hammer click, fallupon empty shells. He had used up all the loads in Wright's gun. Iheard him curse as a man cursed at defeat. I waited, cool and sure now,for him to show his head or other vital part from behind his bolster.He tried to lift the dead man, to edge him closer toward the tablewhere the gun lay. But, considering the peril of exposing himself, hefound the task beyond him. He bent, peering at me under Wright's arm.Sampson's eyes were the eyes of a man who meant to kill me. There wasnever any mistaking the strange and terrible light of eyes likethose.

More than once I had a chance to aim at them, at the top ofSampson's head, at a strip of his side. But I had only two shells left.I wanted to make sure. Suddenly I remembered Morton and his man. Then Ipealed out a cry—hoarse, strange, yet far-reaching. It wasanswered by a shout. Sampson heard it. It called forth all that was inthe man. He flung Wright's body off. But even as it dropped, beforeSampson could recover to leap as he surely intended for the gun, Icovered him, called piercingly to him. I could kill him there or as hemoved. But one chance I gave him.

"Don't jump for the gun! Don't! I'll kill you! I've got two shellsleft! Sure as God, I'll kill you!"

He stood perhaps ten feet from the table where his gun lay. I sawhim calculating chances. He was game. He had the courage that forced meto respect him. I just saw him measure the distance to that gun. He wasmagnificent. He meant to do it. I would have to kill him.

"Sampson, listen!" I cried, very swiftly. "The game's up! You'redone! But think of your daughter! I'll spare your life, I'll give youfreedom on one condition. For her sake! I've got you nailed—allthe proofs. It was I behind the wall the other night. Blome, Hilliard,Pickens, Bo Snecker, are dead. I killed Bo Snecker on the way up here.There lies Wright. You're alone. And here comes Morton and his men tomy aid.

"Give up! Surrender! Consent to demands and I'll spare you. You cango free back to your old country. It's for Diane's sake! Her life,perhaps her happiness, can be saved! Hurry, man! Your answer!"

"Suppose I refuse?" he queried, with a dark and terribleearnestness.

"Then I'll kill you in your tracks! You can't move a hand! Your wordor death! Hurry, Sampson! I can't last much longer. But I can kill youbefore I drop. Be a man! For her sake! Quick! Another secondnow—By God, I'll kill you!"

"All right, Russ! I give my word," he said, and deliberately walkedto the chair and fell into it, just as Morton came running up with hisman.

"Put away your gun," I ordered them. "The game's up. Snecker andWright are dead. Sampson is my prisoner. He has my word he'll beprotected. It's for you to draw up papers with him. He'll divide allhis property, every last acre, every head of stock as you and Zimmerdictate. He gives up all. Then he's free to leave the country, and he'snever to return."

Chapter 14

THROUGH THE VALLEY

Sampson looked strangely at the great bloody blot on my breast andhis look made me conscious of a dark hurrying of my mind. Morton camestamping up the steps with blunt queries, with anxious mien. When hesaw the front of me he halted, threw wide his arms.

"There come the girls!" suddenly exclaimed Sampson. "Morton, help medrag Wright inside. They mustn't see him."

I was facing down the porch toward the court and corrals. MissSampson and Sally had come in sight, were swiftly approaching,evidently alarmed. Steele, no doubt, had remained out at the camp. Iwas watching them, wondering what they would do and say presently, andthen Sampson and Johnson came to carry me indoors. They laid me on thecouch in the parlor where the girls used to be so often.

"Russ, you're pretty hard hit," said Sampson, bending over me, withhis hands at my breast. The room was bright with sunshine, yet thelight seemed to be fading.

"Reckon I am," I replied.

"I'm sorry. If only you could have told me sooner! Wright, damn him!Always I've split over him!"

"But the last time, Sampson."

"Yes, and I came near driving you to kill me, too. Russ, you talkedme out of it. For Diane's sake! She'll be in here in a minute. This'llbe harder than facing a gun."

"Hard now. But it'll—turn out—O.K."

"Russ, will you do me a favor?" he asked, and he seemedshamefaced.

"Sure."

"Let Diane and Sally think Wright shot you. He's dead. It can'tmatter. And you're hard hit. The girls are fond of you. If—if yougo under—Russ, the old side of my life is coming back. It'sbeen coming. It'll be here just about when she enters this room.And by God, I'd change places with you if I could."

"Glad you—said that, Sampson," I replied. "Andsure—Wright plugged me. It's our secret. I've a reason, too,not—that—it—matters—much—now."

The light was fading. I could not talk very well. I felt dumb,strange, locked in ice, with dull little prickings of my flesh, withdim rushing sounds in my ears. But my mind was clear. Evidently therewas little to be done. Morton came in, looked at me, and went out. Iheard the quick, light steps of the girls on the porch, and murmuringvoices.

"Where'm I hit?" I whispered.

"Three places. Arm, shoulder, and a bad one in the breast. It gotyour lung, I'm afraid. But if you don't go quick, you've a chance."

"Sure I've a chance."

"Russ, I'll tell the girls, do what I can for you, then settle withMorton and clear out."

Just then Diane and Sally entered the room. I heard two low cries,so different in tone, and I saw two dim white faces. Sally flew to myside and dropped to her knees. Both hands went to my face, then to mybreast. She lifted them, shaking. They were red. White and mute shegazed from them to me. But some woman's intuition kept her fromfainting.

"Papa!" cried Diane, wringing her hands.

"Don't give way," he replied. "Both you girls will need your nerve.Russ is badly hurt. There's little hope for him."

Sally moaned and dropped her face against me, clasping meconvulsively. I tried to reach a hand out to touch her, but I could notmove. I felt her hair against my face. Diane uttered a lowheart-rending cry, which both Sampson and I understood.

"Listen, let me tell it quick," he said huskily. "There's been afight. Russ killed Snecker and Wright. They resisted arrest.It—it was Wright—it was Wright's gun that put Russ down.Russ let me off. In fact, Diane, he saved me. I'm to divide myproperty—return so far as possible what I've stolen—leaveTexas at once and forever. You'll find me back in oldLouisiana—if—if you ever want to come home."

As she stood there, realizing her deliverance, with the dark andtragic glory of her eyes passing from her father to me, my own sightshadowed, and I thought if I were dying then, it was not in vain.

"Send—for—Steele," I whispered.

Silently, swiftly, breathlessly they worked over me. I wasexquisitely sensitive to touch, to sound, but I could not see anything.By and by all was quiet, and I slipped into a black void. Familiarheavy swift footsteps, the thump of heels of a powerful and stridingman, jarred into the blackness that held me, seemed to split it to letme out; and I opened my eyes in a sunlit room to see Sally's face alllined and haggard, to see Miss Sampson fly to the door, and thestalwart Ranger bow his lofty head to enter. However far life had ebbedfrom me, then it came rushing back, keen-sighted, memorable, withagonizing pain in every nerve. I saw him start, I heard him cry, but Icould not speak. He bent over me and I tried to smile. He stood silent,his hand on me, while Diane Sampson told swiftly, brokenly, what hadhappened.

How she told it! I tried to whisper a protest. To any one on earthexcept Steele I might have wished to appear a hero. Still, at thatmoment I had more dread of him than any other feeling. She finished thestory with her head on his shoulder, with tears that certainly were inpart for me. Once in my life, then, I saw him stunned. But when herecovered it was not Diane that he thought of first, nor of the end ofSampson's power. He turned to me.

"Little hope?" he cried out, with the deep ring in his voice. "No!There's every hope. No bullet hole like that could ever kill thisRanger. Russ!"

I could not answer him. But this time I did achieve a smile. Therewas no shadow, no pain in his face such as had haunted me in Sally'sand Diane's. He could fight death the same as he could fight evil. Hevitalized the girls. Diane began to hope; Sally lost her woe. Hechanged the atmosphere of that room. Something filled it, somethinglike himself, big, virile, strong. The very look of him made mesuddenly want to live; and all at once it seemed I felt alive. And thatwas like taking the deadened ends of nerves to cut them raw and quickenthem with fiery current.

From stupor I had leaped to pain, and that tossed me into fever.There were spaces darkened, mercifully shutting me in; there wereothers of light, where I burned and burned in my heated blood. Sally,like the wraith she had become in my mind, passed in and out; Dianewatched and helped in those hours when sight was clear. But always theRanger was with me. Sometimes I seemed to feel his spirit grapplingwith mine, drawing me back from the verge. Sometimes, in strangedreams, I saw him there between me and a dark, cold, sinistershape.

The fever passed, and with the first nourishing drink given me Iseemed to find my tongue, to gain something.

"Hello, old man," I whispered to Steele.

"Oh, Lord, Russ, to think you would double-cross me the way youdid!"

That was his first speech to me after I had appeared to face roundfrom the grave. His good-humored reproach told me more than any otherthing how far from his mind was thought of death for me. Then he talkeda little to me, cheerfully, with that directness and forcecharacteristic of him always, showing me that the danger was past, andthat I would now be rapidly on the mend. I discovered that I caredlittle whether I was on the mend or not. When I had passed the state ofsomber unrealities and then the hours of pain and then that firstinspiring flush of renewed desire to live, an entirely different moodcame over me. But I kept it to myself. I never even asked why, forthree days, Sally never entered the room where I lay. I associated thisfact, however, with what I had imagined her shrinking from me, herintent and pale face, her singular manner when occasion made itnecessary or unavoidable for her to be near me.

No difficulty was there in associating my change of mood with herabsence. I brooded. Steele's keen insight betrayed me to him, but allhis power and his spirit availed nothing to cheer me. I pretended to becheerful; I drank and ate anything given me; I was patient and quiet.But I ceased to mend.

Then, one day she came back, and Steele, who was watching me as sheentered, quietly got up and without a word took Diane out of the roomand left me alone with Sally.

"Russ, I've been sick myself—in bed for three days," she said."I'm better now. I hope you are. You look so pale. Do you still think,brood about that fight?"

"Yes, I can't forget. I'm afraid it cost me more than life."

Sally was somber, bloomy, thoughtful. "You weren't driven to killGeorge?" she asked.

"How do you mean?"

"By that awful instinct, that hankering to kill, you once told methese gunmen had."

"No, I can swear it wasn't that. I didn't want to kill him. But heforced me. As I had to go after these two men it was a foregoneconclusion about Wright. It was premeditated. I have no excuse."

"Hush—Tell me, if you confronted them, drew on them, then youhad a chance to kill my uncle?"

"Yes. I could have done it easily."

"Why, then, didn't you?"

"It was for Diane's sake. I'm afraid I didn't think of you. I hadput you out of my mind."

"Well, if a man can be noble at the same time he's terrible, you'vebeen, Russ—I don't know how I feel. I'm sick and I can't think. Isee, though, what you saved Diane and Steele. Why, she's touchinghappiness again, fearfully, yet really. Think of that! God only knowswhat you did for Steele. If I judged it by his suffering as you laythere about to die it would be beyond words to tell. But, Russ, you'repale and shaky now. Hush! No more talk!"

With all my eyes and mind and heart and soul I watched to see if sheshrank from me. She was passive, yet tender as she smoothed my pillowand moved my head. A dark abstraction hung over her, and it was sostrange, so foreign to her nature. No sensitiveness on earth could haveequaled mine at that moment. And I saw and felt and knew that she didnot shrink from me. Thought and feeling escaped me for a while. Idozed. The old shadows floated to and fro.

When I awoke Steele and Diane had just come in. As he bent over me Ilooked up into his keen gray eyes and there was no mask on my own as Ilooked up to him.

"Son, the thing that was needed was a change of nurses," he saidgently. "I intend to make up some sleep now and leave you in bettercare."

From that hour I improved. I slept, I lay quietly awake, I partookof nourishing food. I listened and watched, and all the time I gained.But I spoke very little, and though I tried to brighten when Steele wasin the room I made only indifferent success of it. Days passed. Sallywas almost always with me, yet seldom alone. She was grave where onceshe had been gay. How I watched her face, praying for that shade tolift! How I listened for a note of the old music in her voice! SallyLangdon had sustained a shock to her soul almost as dangerous as hadbeen the blow at my life. Still I hoped. I had seen other women'sdeadened and darkened spirits rebound and glow once more. It began todawn upon me, however, that more than time was imperative if she wereever to become her old self again.

Studying her closer, with less thought of myself and her reaction tomy presence, I discovered that she trembled at shadows, seemed like afrightened deer with a step always on its trail, was afraid of thedark. Then I wondered why I had not long before divined one cause ofher strangeness. The house where I had killed one of her kin would everbe haunted for her. She had said she was a Southerner and that bloodwas thick. When I had thought out the matter a little further, Ideliberately sat up in bed, scaring the wits out of all my kindnurses.

"Steele, I'll never get well in this house. I want to go home. Whencan you take me?"

They remonstrated with me and pleaded and scolded, all to littleavail. Then they were persuaded to take me seriously, to plan,providing I improved, to start in a few days. We were to ride out ofPecos County together, back along the stage trail to civilization. Thelook in Sally's eyes decided my measure of improvement. I could havestarted that very day and have borne up under any pain or distress.Strange to see, too, how Steele and Diane responded to the stimulus ofmy idea, to the promise of what lay beyond the wild and barrenhills!

He told me that day about the headlong flight of every lawlesscharacter out of Linrock, the very hour that Snecker and Wright andSampson were known to have fallen. Steele expressed deep feeling,almost mortification, that the credit of that final coup had gone tohim, instead of me. His denial and explanation had been only a fewsoundless words in the face of a grateful and clamorous populace thattried to reward him, to make him mayor of Linrock. Sampson had maderestitution in every case where he had personally gained at the loss offarmer or rancher; and the accumulation of years went far towardreturning to Linrock what it had lost in a material way. He had been apoor man when he boarded the stage for Sanderson, on his way out ofTexas forever.

Not long afterward I heard Steele talking to Miss Sampson, in a deepand agitated voice. "You must rise above this. When I come upon youalone I see the shadow, the pain in your face. How wonderfully thisthing has turned out when it might have ruined you! I expected it toruin you. Who, but that wild boy in there could have saved us all?Diane, you have had cause for sorrow. But your father is alive and willlive it down. Perhaps, back there in Louisiana, the dishonor will neverbe known. Pecos County is far from your old home. And even in SanAntonio and Austin, a man's evil repute means little.

"Then the line between a rustler and a rancher is hard to draw inthese wild border days. Rustling is stealing cattle, and I once heard awell-known rancher say that all rich cattlemen had done a littlestealing. Your father drifted out here, and like a good many others, hesucceeded. It's perhaps just as well not to split hairs, to judge himby the law and morality of a civilized country. Some way or other hedrifted in with bad men. Maybe a deal that was honest somehow tied hishands and started him in wrong.

"This matter of land, water, a few stray head of stock had to bedecided out of court. I'm sure in his case he never realized where hewas drifting. Then one thing led to another, until he was face to facewith dealing that took on crooked form. To protect himself he bound mento him. And so the gang developed. Many powerful gangs have developedthat way out here. He could not control them. He became involved withthem.

"And eventually their dealings became deliberately and boldlydishonest. That meant the inevitable spilling of blood sooner or later,and so he grew into the leader because he was the strongest. Whateverhe is to be judged for I think he could have been infinitelyworse."

When he ceased speaking I had the same impulse that must havegoverned Steele—somehow to show Sampson not so black as he waspainted, to give him the benefit of a doubt, to arraign him justly inthe eyes of Rangers who knew what wild border life was.

"Steele, bring Diane in!" I called. "I've something to tell her."They came quickly, concerned probably at my tone. "I've been hoping fora chance to tell you something, Miss Sampson. That day I came here yourfather was quarreling with Wright. I had heard them do that before. Hehated Wright. The reason came out just before we had the fight. It wasmy plan to surprise them. I did. I told them you went out to meetSteele—that you two were in love with each other. Wright grewwild. He swore no one would ever have you. Then Sampson said he'drather have you Steele's wife than Wright's.

"I'll not forget that scene. There was a great deal back of it, longbefore you ever came out to Linrock. Your father said that he hadbacked Wright, that the deal had ruined him, made him a rustler. Hesaid he quit; he was done. Now, this is all clear to me, and I want toexplain, Miss Sampson. It was Wright who ruined your father. It wasWright who was the rustler. It was Wright who made the gang necessary.But Wright had not the brains or the power to lead men. Because bloodis thick, your father became the leader of that gang. At heart he wasnever a criminal.

"The reason I respected him was because he showed himself a man atthe last. He faced me to be shot, and I couldn't do it. As Steele said,you've reason for sorrow. But you must get over it. You mustn't brood.I do not see that you'll be disgraced or dishonored. Of course, that'snot the point. The vital thing is whether or not a woman of yourhigh-mindedness had real and lasting cause for shame. Steele says no. Isay no."

Then, as Miss Sampson dropped down beside me, her eyes shining andwet, Sally entered the room in time to see her cousin bend to kiss megratefully with sisterly fervor. Yet it was a woman's kiss, given forits own sake. Sally could not comprehend; it was too sudden, toounheard-of, that Diane Sampson should kiss me, the man she did notlove. Sally's white, sad face changed, and in the flaming wave ofscarlet that dyed neck and cheek and brow I read with mighty pound ofheart that, despite the dark stain between us, she loved me still.

Chapter 15

CONVALESCENCE

Four mornings later we were aboard the stage, riding down the mainstreet, on the way out of Linrock. The whole town turned out to bid usfarewell. The cheering, the clamor, the almost passionate fervor of thepopulace irritated me, and I could not see the incident from theirpoint of view. Never in my life had I been so eager to get out of aplace. But then I was morbid, and the whole world hinged on one thing.Morton insisted on giving us an escort as far as Del Rio. It consistedof six cowboys, mounted, with light packs, and they rode ahead of thestage.

We had the huge vehicle to ourselves. A comfortable bed had beenrigged up for me by placing boards across from seat to seat, andfurnishing it with blankets and pillows. By some squeezing there wasstill room enough inside for my three companions; but Steele expressedan intention of riding mostly outside, and Miss Sampson's expressionbetrayed her. I was to be alone with Sally. The prospect thrilled whileit saddened me. How different this ride from that first one, with allits promise of adventure and charm!

"It's over!" said Steele thickly. "It's done! I'm glad, for theirsakes—glad for ours. We're out of town."

I had been quick to miss the shouts and cheers. And I had been justas quick to see, or to imagine, a subtle change in Sally Langdon'sface. We had not traveled a mile before the tension relaxed about herlips, the downcast eyelids lifted, and I saw, beyond any peradventureof doubt, a lighter spirit. Then I relaxed myself, for I had keyed upevery nerve to make myself strong for this undertaking. I lay back withclosed eyes, weary, aching, in more pain than I wanted them todiscover. And I thought and thought.

Miss Sampson had said to me: "Russ, it'll all come right. I can tellyou now what you never guessed. For years Sally had been fond of ourcousin, George Wright. She hadn't seen him since she was a child. Butshe remembered. She had an only brother who was the image of George.Sally devotedly loved Arthur. He was killed in the Rebellion. She nevergot over it. That left her without any family. George and I were hernearest kin.

"How she looked forward to meeting George out here! But hedisappointed her right at the start. She hates a drinking man. I thinkshe came to hate George, too. But he always reminded her of Arthur, andshe could never get over that. So, naturally, when you killed Georgeshe was terribly shocked. There were nights when she was haunted, whenI had to stay with her. Vaughn and I have studied her, talked abouther, and we think she's gradually recovering. She loved you, too; andSally doesn't change. Once with her is for always. So let me say to youwhat you said to me—do not brood. All will yet be well, thankGod!"

Those had been words to remember, to make me patient, to lessen myinsistent fear. Yet, what did I know of women? Had not Diane Sampsonand Sally Langdon amazed and nonplused me many a time, at the verymoment when I had calculated to a nicety my conviction of their action,their feeling? It was possible that I had killed Sally's love for me,though I could not believe so; but it was very possible that, stillloving me, she might never break down the barrier between us. Thebeginning of that journey distressed me physically; yet, gradually, asI grew accustomed to the roll of the stage and to occasional jars, Ifound myself easier in body. Fortunately there had been rain, whichsettled the dust; and a favorable breeze made riding pleasant, whereordinarily it would have been hot and disagreeable.

We tarried long enough in the little hamlet of Sampson for Steele toget letters from reliable ranchers. He wanted a number of references toverify the Ranger report he had to turn in to Captain Neal. Thisprecaution he took so as to place in Neal's hands all the evidenceneeded to convince Governor Smith. And now, as Steele returned to usand entered the stage, he spoke of this report. "It's the longest andthe best I ever turned in," he said, with a gray flame in his eyes. "Ishan't let Russ read it. He's peevish because I want his part put onrecord. And listen, Diane. There's to be a blank line in this report.Your father's name will never be recorded. Neither the Governor, northe adjutant-general, nor Captain Neal, nor any one back Austin waywill ever know who this mysterious leader of the Pecos gang might havebeen.

"Even out here very few know. Many supposed, but few knew. I've shutthe mouths of those few. That blank line in the report is for asupposed and mysterious leader who vanished. Jack Blome, the reputedleader, and all his lawless associates are dead. Linrock is free andsafe now, its future in the hands of roused, determined, and capablemen."

We were all silent after Steele ceased talking. I did not believeDiane could have spoken just then. If sorrow and joy could be perfectlyblended in one beautiful expression, they were in her face. By and by Idared to say: "And Vaughn Steele, Lone Star Ranger, has seen his lastservice!"

"Yes," he replied with emotion.

Sally stirred and turned a strange look upon us all. "In that case,then, if I am not mistaken, there were two Lone Star Rangers—andboth have seen their last service!" Sally's lips were trembling, theway they trembled when it was impossible to tell whether she was aboutto laugh or cry. The first hint of her old combative spirit or her oldarchness! A wave of feeling rushed over me, too much for me in myweakened condition. Dizzy, racked with sudden shooting pains, I closedmy eyes; and the happiness I embraced was all the sweeter for thesuffering it entailed. Something beat into my ears, into my brain, withthe regularity and rapid beat of pulsing blood—not too late! Nottoo late!

From that moment the ride grew different, even as I improved withleaps and bounds. Sanderson behind us, the long gray barren betweenSanderson and the Rio Grande behind us, Del Rio for two days, where Iwas able to sit up, all behind us—and the eastward trail toUvalde before us! We were the only passengers on the stage from Del Rioto Uvalde. Perhaps Steele had so managed the journey. Assuredly he hadbecome an individual with whom traveling under the curious gaze ofstrangers would have been embarrassing. He was most desperately inlove. And Diane, all in a few days, while riding these long, tediousmiles, ordinarily so fatiguing, had renewed her bloom, had gained whatshe had lost. She, too, was desperately in love, though she rememberedher identity occasionally, and that she was in the company of a badlyshot-up young man and a broken-hearted cousin.

Most of the time Diane and Steele rode on top of the stage. Whenthey did ride inside their conduct was not unbecoming; indeed, it wassweet to watch; yet it loosed the fires of jealous rage and longing inme; and certainly had some remarkable effect upon Sally. Gradually shehad been losing that strange and somber mood she had acquired, tobrighten and change more and more. Perhaps she divined something aboutDiane and Steele that escaped me. Anyway, all of a sudden she wastransformed. "Look here, if you people want to spoon, please get out ontop," she said.

If that was not the old Sally Langdon I did not know who it was.Miss Sampson tried to appear offended, and Steele tried to lookinsulted, but they both failed. They could not have looked anything buthappy. Youth and love were too strong for this couple, whomcircumstances might well have made grave and thoughtful. They weremagnet and steel, powder and spark. Any moment, right before my eyes, Iexpected them to rush right into each other's arms. And when theyrefrained, merely substituting clasped hands for a dearer embrace, Iclosed my eyes and remembered them, as they would live in my memoryforever, standing crushed together on the ridge that day, white lips towhite lips, embodying all that was beautiful, passionate andtragic.

And I, who had been their undoing, in the end was their salvation.How I hugged that truth to my heart!

It seemed, following Sally's pert remark, that after an interval ofdecent dignity, Diane and Steele did go out upon the top of the stage."Russ," whispered Sally, "they're up to something. I heard a few words.I bet you they're going to get married in San Antonio."

"Well, it's about time," I replied.

"But oughtn't they take us into their confidence?"

"Sally, they have forgotten we are upon the earth."

"Oh, I'm so glad they're happy!"

Then there was a long silence. It was better for me to ride lyingdown, in which position I was at this time. After a mile Sally took myhand and held it without speaking. My heart leaped, but I did not openmy eyes or break that spell even with a whisper. "Russ, I mustsay—tell you—"

She faltered, and still I kept my eyes closed. I did not want towake up from that dream. "Have I been very—very sad?" she wenton.

"Sad and strange, Sally. That was worse than my bullet-holes." Shegripped my hand. I felt her hair on my brow, felt her breath on mycheek.

"Russ, I swore—I'd hate you if you—if you—"

"I know. Don't speak of it," I interposed hurriedly.

"But I don't hate you. I—I love you. And I can't give youup!"

"Darling! But, Sally, can you get over it—can you forget?"

"Yes. That horrid black spell had gone with the miles. Little bylittle, mile after mile, and now it's gone! But I had to come to thepoint. To go back on my word! To tell you. Russ, you never,never had any sense!"

Then I opened my eyes and my arms, too, and we were reunited. Itmust have been a happy moment, so happy that it numbed me beyondappreciation. "Yes, Sally," I agreed; "but no man ever had such awonderful girl."

"Russ, I never—took off your ring," she whispered.

"But you hid your hand from my sight," I replied quickly.

"Oh dear Russ, we're crazy—as crazy as those lunatics outside.Let's think a little."

I was very content to have no thought at all, just to see and feelher close to me.

"Russ, will you give up the Ranger Service for me?" she asked.

"Indeed I will."

"And leave this fighting Texas, never to return till the day of gunsand Rangers and bad men and even-breaks is past?"

"Yes."

"Will you go with me to my old home? It was beautiful once, Russ,before it was let run to rack and ruin. A thousand acres. An old stonehouse. Great mossy oaks. A lake and river. There are bear, deer,panther, wild boars in the breaks. You can hunt. And ride! I've horses,Russ, such horses! They could run these scrubby broncos off their legs.Will you come?"

"Come! Sally, I rather think I will. But, dearest, after I'm wellagain I must work," I said earnestly. "I've got to have a job."

"You're indeed a poor cowboy out of a job! Remember your deceit. Oh,Russ! Well, you'll have work, never fear."

"Sally, is this old home of yours near the one Diane speaks of somuch?" I asked.

"Indeed it is. But hers has been kept under cultivation and inrepair, while mine has run down. That will be our work, to build it up.So it's settled then?"

"Almost. There are certain—er—formalities—needfulin a compact of this kind." She looked inquiringly at me, with a softflush. "Well, if you are so dense, try to bring back that Sally Langdonwho used to torment me. How you broke your promises! How you leanedfrom your saddle! Kiss me, Sally!"

Later, as we drew close to Uvalde, Sally and I sat in one seat,after the manner of Diane and Vaughn, and we looked out over the westwhere the sun was setting behind dim and distant mountains. We werefast leaving the wild and barren border. Already it seemed far beyondthat broken rugged horizon with its dark line silhouetted against therosy and golden sky. Already the spell of its wild life and the grimand haunting faces had begun to fade out of my memory. Let newerRangers, with less to lose, and with the call in their hearts, go onwith our work 'till soon that wild border would be safe!

The great Lone Star State must work out its destiny. Some distantday, in the fulness of time, what place the Rangers had in that destinywould be history.

THE END

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