nce eloquent of the effect of his sinister prediction.

"Sally, what did he mean?" asked Diane in a low voice.

"Steele will be killed," replied Sally, just as low-voiced.

"Killed! That magnificent fellow! Ah, I forgot. Sally, my wits are sadly
mixed. I ought to be glad if somebody kills my father's defamer. But,
oh, I can't be!

"This bloody frontier makes me sick. Papa doesn't want me to stay for
good. And no wonder. Shall I go back? I hate to show a white feather.

"Do you know, Sally, I was--a little taken with this Texas Ranger.
Miserably, I confess. He seemed so like in spirit to the grand stature
of him. How can so splendid a man be so bloody, base at heart? It's
hideous. How little we know of men! I had my dream about Vaughn Steele.
I confess because it shames me--because I hate myself!"

Next morning I awakened with a feeling that I was more like my old self.
In the experience of activity of body and mind, with a prospect that
this was merely the forerunner of great events, I came round to my own
again.

Sally was not forgotten; she had just become a sorrow. So perhaps my
downfall as a lover was a precursor of better results as an officer.

I held in abeyance my last conclusion regarding Sampson and Wright, and
only awaited Steele's return to have fixed in mind what these men were.

Wright's remark about Steele not returning did not worry me. I had heard
many such dark sayings in reference to Rangers.

Rangers had a trick of coming back. I did not see any man or men on the
present horizon of Linrock equal to the killing of Steele.

As Miss Sampson and Sally had no inclination to ride, I had even more
freedom. I went down to the town and burst, cheerily whistling, into Jim
Hoden's place.

Jim always made me welcome there, as much for my society as for the
money I spent, and I never neglected being free with both. I bought
a handful of cigars and shoved some of them in his pocket.

"How's tricks, Jim?" I asked cheerily.

"Reckon I'm feelin' as well as could be expected," replied Jim. His head
was circled by a bandage that did not conceal the lump where he had been
struck. Jim looked a little pale, but he was bright enough.

"That was a hell of a biff Snell gave you, the skunk," I remarked with
the same cheery assurance.

"Russ, I ain't accusin' Snell," remonstrated Jim with eyes that made me
thoughtful.

"Sure, I know you're too good a sport to send a fellow up. But Snell
deserved what he got