Sampson. She's true blue, Steele."

"Son, you haven't got soft on her?"

"Not a bit. Maybe I'm soft on the little cousin. But I just like Miss
Sampson--think she's fine--could look up to her. And I hate to be
different from what she thinks."

"I understand, Russ," he replied in his deep voice that had such quality
to influence a man. "It's no decent job. You'll be ashamed before her.
So would I. But here's our work, the hardest ever cut out for Rangers.
Think what depends upon it. And--"

"There's something wrong with Miss Sampson's father," I interrupted.

"Something strange if not wrong. No man in this community is beyond us,
Russ, or above suspicion. You've a great opportunity. I needn't say use
your eyes and ears as never before."

"I hope Sampson turns out to be on the square," I replied. "He might be
a lax mayor, too good-natured to uphold law in a wild country. And his
Southern pride would fire at interference. I don't like him, but for his
daughter's sake I hope we're wrong."

Steele's eyes, deep and gleaming in the moonlight, searched my face.

"Son, sure you're not in love with her--you'll not fall in love with
her?"

"No. I am positive. Why?"