my imagination I was rewarded
by being told that I was a regular old woman for gossip.

Much taken back by this remarkable statement I could but gape at my
comrade. Irritation had followed shortly upon his curiosity and
pleasure, and then the old sane mind reasserted itself, the old stern
look, a little sad now, replaced the glow, the strange eagerness of
youth 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, it seems 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 the hope that
somehow, God only knows how, in doing our duty as Rangers we may yet be
doing right by these two innocent girls. I ask you, as my friend, please
do not speak again to me of--Miss Sampson."

I left him and went up the quiet trail with the thick shadows all around
me and the cold stars overhead; and I was sober in thought, sick at
heart for him as much as for myself, and I tortured my mind in fruitless
conjecture as to what the end of this strange and fateful adventure
would be.

I discovered that less and less the old wild spirit abided with me and I
become conscious of a dull, deep-seated ache in my breast, a pang in the
bone.

From that day there was a change in Diane Sampson. She became feverishly
active. She wanted to ride, to see for herself what was going on in
Linrock, to learn of that wild Pecos county life at first hand.

She made such demands on my time now that I scarcely ever found an hour
to be with or near Steele until after dark. However, as he was playing a
waiting game on the rustlers, keeping out of the resorts for the
present, I had not great cause for worry. Hoden was slowly gathering men
together, a band of trustworthy ones, and until this organization was
complete and ready, Steele thought better to go slow.

It was of little use for me to remonstrate with Miss Sampson when she
refused to obey a distracted and angry father. I began to feel sorry for
Sampson. He was an unscrupulous man, but he loved this daughter who
belonged to another and better and past side of his life.

I heard him appeal to her to go back to Louisiana; to let him take her
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 of his
horses and wen