he rustle of silk. Otherwise it was a
singularly quiet night. I wondered where the coyotes were and longed for
their chorus. By and by a prairie wolf sent in his lonely lament from
the distant ridges. That mourn was worse than the silence. It made the
cold shudders creep up and down my back. It was just the cry that seemed
to be the one to express my own trouble. No one hearing that long-drawn,
quivering wail could ever disassociate it from tragedy. By and by it
ceased, and then I wished it would come again. Steele lay like the stone
beside him. Was he ever going to speak? Among the vagaries of my mood
was a petulant desire to have him sympathize with me.

I had just looked at my watch, making out in the starlight that the hour
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, and
then the unmistakable jingle of glass.

"I guess the fools have opened up, Steele," I said. His response was an
angry grunt. It was just as well, I concluded, that things had begun to
stir. Steele needed to be roused.

Suddenly a single sharp yell pealed out. Following it came a huge flare
of light, a sheet of flame in which a great cloud of smoke or dust 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 guns blended with the
yells of furious men, and all these were swallowed up in the roar of a
mob.

Another and a heavier explosion momentarily lightened the darkness and
then rent the air. It was succeeded by a continuous volley and a steady
sound that, though composed of yells, screams, cheers, was not anything
but a hideous roar of hate. It kept up long after there could have been
any possibility of life under the ruins of that house. It was more than
hate of Steele. All that was wild and lawless and violent hurled 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. They were
expressions, perhaps, that could never come but once.

I