Steele looked around, evidently for some kind of implement, and, espying
a heavy ax in a corner, he grasped it, and, sweeping it to and fro as if
it had been a buggy-whip, he advanced on the faro layout. The crowd fell
back, edging toward the door.

One crashing blow wrecked the dealer's box and table, sending them
splintering among the tumbled chairs. Then the giant Ranger began to
spread further ruin about him.

Martin's place was rough and bare, of the most primitive order, and like
a thousand other dens of its kind, consisted of a large room with adobe
walls, a rude bar of boards, piles of kegs in a corner, a stove, and a
few tables with chairs.

Steele required only one blow for each article he struck, and he
demolished it. He stove in the head of each keg.

When the dark liquor gurgled out, Martin cursed, and the crowd followed
suit. That was a loss!

The little cattleman, holding the men covered, backed them out of the
room, Martin needing a plain, stern word to put him out entirely. I went
out, too, for I did not want to miss any moves on the part of that gang.

Close behind me came the cattleman, the kind of cool, nervy Texan I
liked. He had Martin well judged, too, for there was no evidence of any
bold resistance.

But there were shouts and loud acclamations; and these, with the