A flash cowboy! Steele vowed I was a born actor.

But I never divulged the fact that had it not been for my infatuation
for Sally, I never could have carried on that part, not to save the
Ranger service, or the whole State of Texas.

The hardest part had not been the establishing of a reputation. The
scorn of cowboys, the ridicule of gamblers, the badinage of the young
bucks of the settlement--these I had soon made dangerous procedures for
any one. I was quick with tongue and fist and gun.

There had been fights and respect was quickly earned, though the
constant advent of strangers in Linrock always had me in hot water.

Moreover, instead of being difficult, it was fun to spend all the time
I could in the hotels and resorts, shamming a weakness for drink,
gambling, lounging, making friends among the rough set, when all the
time I was a cool, keen registering machine.

The hard thing was the lie I lived in the eyes of Diane Sampson and
Sally Langdon.

I had indeed won the sincere regard of my employer. Her father, her
cousin George, and new-made friends in town had come to her with tales
of my reckless doings, and had urged my dismissal.

But she kept me and all the time pleaded like a sister to have me mend
my vicious ways. She believed what she was told about me, but had faith
in me despite that.