know if it keeps
a record."

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

Snecker got up, not without a furtive glance at Duane, and he had
shuffled forward a few steps toward the Mayor. He had an evil front, but
not the boldness even of a rustler.

"It ain't so, Longstreth," he began, loudly. "I went in Laramie's place
fer grub. Some feller I never seen before come in from the hall an' hit
Laramie an' wrestled him on the floor. I went out. Then this big ranger
chased me an' fetched me here. I didn't do nothin'. This ranger's
hankerin' to arrest somebody. Thet's my hunch, Longstreth."

Longstreth said something in an undertone to Judge Owens, and that
worthy nodded his great bushy head.

"Bo, you're discharged," said Longstreth, bluntly. "Now the rest of you
clear out of here."

He absolutely ignored the ranger. That was his rebuff to Duane--his slap
in the face to an interfering ranger service. If Longstreth was crooked
he certainly had magnificent nerve. Duane almost decided he was above
suspicion. But his nonchalance, his air of finality, his authoritative
assurance--these to Duane's keen and practiced eyes were in significant
contrast to a certain tenseness of line about his mouth and a slow
paling of his olive skin. In that momentary lull Duane's scrutiny of
Longstreth gathered an impression of the man's intense curiosity.

Then the prisoner, Snecker, with a cough that broke the spell of
silence, shuffled a couple of steps toward the door.

"Hold on!" called Duane. The call halted Snecker, as if it had been a
bullet.

"Longstreth, I saw Snecker attack Laramie," said Duane, his voice still
ringing. "What has the court to say to that?"

"The court has this to say. West of the Pecos we'll not aid any ranger
service. We don't want you out here. Fairdale doesn't need you."

"That's a lie, Longstreth," retorted Duane. "I've letters from Fairdale
citizens all begging for ranger service."

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

Floyd Lawson rushed in and up to the table. The blood showed black and
thick in his face; his utterance was incoherent, his uncontrollable
outbreak of temper seemed out of all proportion to any cause he should
reasonably have had for anger. Longstreth shoved him back with a curse
and a warning glare.

"Where's your warrant to arrest Snecker?"