Steele had asked this woman, whose name was Price, how much her husband
had lost, and, being told, he assured her that if he found evidence of
cheating, not only would he get back the money, but also he would shut
up Martin's place.

Steele instructed me to go that night to the saloon in question and get
in the game. I complied, and, in order not to be overcarefully sized up
by the dealer, I pretended to be well under the influence of liquor.

By nine o'clock, when Steele strolled in, I had the game well studied,
and a more flagrantly crooked one I had never sat in. It was barefaced
robbery.

Steele and I had agreed upon a sign from me, because he was not so adept
in the intricacies of gambling as I was. I was not in a hurry, however,
for there was a little frecklefaced cattleman in the game, and he had
been losing, too. He had sold a bunch of stock that day and had
considerable money, which evidently he was to be deprived of before he
got started for Del Rio.

Steele stood at our backs, and I could feel his presence. He thrilled
me. He had some kind of effect on the others, especially the dealer, who
was honest enough while the Ranger looked on.

When, however, Steele shifted his attention to other tables and players
our dealer reverted to his crooked work. I was about to make a
disturbance, when the little cattleman, leaning over, fire in his eye
and gun in hand, made it for me.

Evidently he was a keener and nervier gambler than he had been taken