that time of day the street seemed unusually quiet. Few
pedestrians were abroad and few loungers. There was a row of saddled
horses 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 the place
so full, nor had it ever seemed so quiet. The whole long bar was lined
by shirt-sleeved men, with hats slouched back and vests flapping wide.
Those who were not drinking were talking low. Half a dozen tables held
as many groups of dusty, motley men, some silent, others speaking and
gesticulating, all earnest.

At first glance I did not see any one in whom I had especial interest.
The principal actors of my drama did not appear to be present. However,
there were rough characters more in evidence than at any other time I
had visited the saloon. Voices were too low for me to catch, but I
followed the direction of some of the significant gestures. Then I saw
that these half dozen tables were rather closely grouped and drawn back
from the center of the big room. Next my quick sight took in a smashed
table and chairs, some broken bottles on the floor, and then a dark
sinister splotch of blood.

I had no time to make inquiries, for my roving eye caught Frank Morton
in the doorway, and evidently he wanted to attract my attention. He
turned away and I followed. When I got outside, he was leaning against
the hitching-rail. One look at this big rancher was enough for me to see
that he had been told my part in Steele's game, and that he himself 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 any
time."

"Is he all right?"

"Wai, he was pretty fit a little while back," replied Morton
significantly.

"What's come off? Tell me all."

"Wai, the ball opened last night, I reckon. Jack Blome came swaggerin'
in here askin' for Steele. We all knew what he was in town for. 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 the Ranger. Blome's pals
took it up and they all enjoyed themselves some."

"Drinking hard?" I queried.

"Nope--they didn't hit it up very hard. But they laid fou