by yoreself, can you?" asked Snark
sarcastically. "There's only one of you, I reckon."

The little flicker in the Ranger's eye was not wholly amusement.
"There's goin' to be only one mob, too, ain't there?" he drawled.

"You can't slip him out unnoticed, if that's yore idee. They've got
watchers round the jail," the deputy went on.

"I shan't try."

"Then you'll let 'em hang him?"

"Oh, no!"

"What in hell do you mean to do, then?"

Roberts told him, in part. The deputy shook his head vehemently.

"Can't be done. First place, you can't get Wadley to do it. He won't
lift a hand to stop this hangin'. Second place, he couldn't stop it if
he wanted to. Folks in Tascosa ain't a bit gun-shy, an' right now
they've got their necks bowed. An' this Dinsmore gang--they'll eat you
alive if you get in their way."

"Mebbeso. You can't always be sure. I've got one card up my sleeve I
haven't mentioned to you."

"If you want my opinion--"

The Ranger cut him off short. "I don't, Snark. Not right now. I'm too
busy to listen to it. I want to know just one thing of you. Will you
have the horses right where I want 'em when I want 'em?"

"You're the doc," acknowledged the deputy grudgingly. "They'll be there,
but just the same I think it's a fool play. You can't get away with it."

Jack asked a question. "Where am I most likely to find Wadley?"

"At McGuffey's store. It's a block this-a-way and a block that-a-way."
He indicated directions with his hand.

Wadley was not among those who sat on the porch of the general store
known as McGuffey's Emporium. He had just gone to his sister's house to
meet his daughter Ramona, of whose arrival he had received notice by a
boy. Roberts followed him.

In answer to the Ranger's "Hello, the house!" the cattleman came out in
his shirt-sleeves.

Jack cut straight to business.

"I've come to see you about that Mexican Alviro, Mr. Wadley. Is it true
they're goin' to lynch him?"

The hard eyes of the grizzled Texan looked full at Roberts. This young
fellow was the one who had beaten his son and later had had the
impudence to burn as a spill for a cigarette the hundred-dollar bill he
had sent him.

"Whyfor do you ask me about it?" he demanded harshly.

"Because you've got to help me stop this thing."

The cattleman laughed mirthlessly. "They can go as far as they like for
me. Suits me fine. Hangin' is too good for him. That's all I've got to
say."

Already he had refused the plea