the bitterness, the defeat, the agony of the man. He had failed to
meet his obligation; nevertheless he had been swindled.

All that he suppressed, all that would have been passion had the man's
spirit not been broken, lay bare for me to see. I had now the secret of
his bitterness.

But the reason he did not openly accuse Sampson, the secret of his
reticence and fear--these I thought best to try to learn at some later
time, after I had consulted with Steele.

"Hard luck! Jim, it certainly was tough," I said. "But you're a good
loser. And the wheel turns!

"Now, Jim, here's what I come particular to see you for. I need your
advice. I've got a little money. Between you and me, as friends, I've
been adding some to that roll all the time. But before I lose it I want
to invest some. Buy some stock or buy an interest in some rancher's
herd.

"What I want you to steer me on is a good, square rancher. Or maybe a
couple of ranchers if there happen to be two honest ones in Pecos. Eh?
No deals with ranchers who ride in the dark with rustlers! I've a hunch
Linrock's full of them.

"Now, Jim, you've been here for years. So you must know a couple of men
above suspicion."

"Thank God I do, Russ," he replied feelingly. "Frank Morton an' Si
Zimmer, my friends an' neighbors all my prosperous days. An' friends
still. You can gamble on Frank and Si. But Russ, if you want advice from
me, don't invest money in stock now."

"Why?"

"Because any new feller buyin' stock in Pecos these days will be
rustled quicker'n he can say Jack Robinson. The pioneers, the new
cattlemen--these are easy pickin'. But the new fellers have to learn the
ropes. They don't know anythin' or anybody. An' the old ranchers are
wise an' sore. They'd fight if they...."

"What?" I put in as he paused. "If they knew who was rustling the stock?"

"Nope."

"If they had the nerve?"

"Not thet so much."

"What then? What'd make them fight?"

"A leader!"

I went out of Hoden's with that word ringing in my ears. A leader! In my
mind's eye I saw a horde of dark faced, dusty-booted cattlemen riding
grim and armed behind Vaughn Steele.

More thoughtful than usual, I walked on, passing some of my old haunts,
and was about to turn in front of a feed and grain store when a hearty
slap on my back disturbed my reflection.

"Howdy thar, cowboy," boomed a big voice.

It was Morton, the rancher whom Jim had mentioned, and whose
acquaintance I had made. He was a ma