I'm leavin' Linrock. An' I'm askin' some of you to take thet good-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 Ranger years
ago thet I'd of turned round an' gone straight. But mebbe I
would--mebbe. There's a hell of a lot a man doesn't know till too late.
I'm old now, ready fer the bone pile, an' it doesn't matter. But I've
got a head on me yet, an' I want to give a hunch to thet gang who done
me. An' that hunch wants to go around an' up to the big guns of Pecos.

"This Texas Star Ranger was the feller who took me in. I'd of died like
a poisoned coyote but fer him. An' he talked to me. He gave me money to
git out of Pecos. Mebbe everybody'll think he helped me because he
wanted me to squeal. To squeal who's who round these rustler diggin'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 so much,
mebbe. But I've been with him, an' I'm old figgerin' men. Jest as sure
as God made little apples he's a goin' to put thet outfit through--or
he's a-goin' to kill them!"

Chapter 6

ENTER JACK BLOME

Strange that the narrating of this incident made Diane Sampson unhappy.

When I told her she exhibited one flash of gladness, such as any woman
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 to believe in
Steele and dared not; perhaps she had all at once seen the Ranger in his
true light, and to her undoing.

She bade me take Sally for a ride and sought her room. I had my
misgivings when I saw Sally come out in that trim cowgirl suit and look
at me as if to say this day would be my Waterloo.

But she rode hard and long ahead of me before she put any machinations
into effect. The first one found me with a respectful demeanor 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 of the
stirrup.

To be sure, it was very much unlaced. I had to take off my gloves to
lace 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 and
hold her tight