no
what he thinks now."

"And the other?"

"Carries the brand of Overstreet."

"Where are these anxious citizens, Jumbo?"

"Last I saw of 'em they were at the Bird Cage lappin' up another of the
same. They've got business with Clint Wadley, too, they said."

Jack guessed that business was blackmail. It occurred to him that since
these visitors had come to town to see him, he had better gratify their
desire promptly. Perhaps after they had talked with him they might not
have time to do their business with Wadley.

As Jumbo waddled uptown beside him, Roberts arranged the details of his
little plan. They separated at the corner of the street a block from the
Bird Cage. Wilkins had offered to lend a hand, but his friend defined
the limit of the help he might give.

"You come in, shake hands with me, an' ask that question. Then you're
through. Understand, Jumbo?"

"Sure. But I want to tell you again Overstreet is no false-alarm
bad-man. He'll fight at the drop of the hat. That's his reputation,
anyhow--wears 'em low an' comes a-shootin'."

"I'll watch out for him. An' I'll look for you in about three minutes."

"Me, I'll be there, son, and I wish you the best of luck."

Gurley was at the bar facing the door when the Ranger walked into the
Bird Cage. He had been just ready to gulp down another drink, but as his
eyes fell on this youth who came forward with an elastic step the heart
died within him. It had been easy while the liquor was in his brain to
brag of what he meant to do. It was quite another thing to face in
battle this brown, competent youth who could hit silver dollars in the
air with a revolver.

His companion read in Gurley's sallow face the dismay that had attacked
him. Overstreet turned and faced the newcomer. The outlaw was a short,
heavy-set man with remarkably long arms. He had come from Trinidad,
Colorado, and brought with him the reputation of a killer. His eyes
looked hard at the red-haired youngster, but he made no comment.

Jack spoke to the bartender. He looked at neither of the bad-men, but he
was very coolly and alertly on guard.

"Joe, I left my blacksnake at home," he said. "Have you got one handy?"

"Some guys are lucky, Steve," jeered Overstreet, taking his cue from the
Ranger. "Because you fell over a box and this fellow beat you up while
you was down, he thinks he's a regular go-getter. He looks to me like a
counterfeit four-bit piece, if anybody asks you."

Jumbo Wilkins pu