"Sure, I know you're too good a sport to send a fellow up. But Snell
deserved what he got. I saw his face when he made his talk to Sampson's
court. Snell lied. And I'll tell you what, Jim, if it'd been me instead
of that Ranger, Bud Snell would have got settled."

Jim appeared to be agitated by my forcible intimation of friendship.

"Jim, that's between ourselves," I went on. "I'm no fool. And much as I
blab when I'm hunky, it's all air. Maybe you've noticed that about me.
In some parts of Texas it's policy to be close-mouthed. Policy and
healthy. Between ourselves, as friends, I want you to know I lean some
on Steele's side of the fence."

As I lighted a cigar I saw, out of the corner of my eye, how Hoden gave
a quick start. I expected some kind of a startling idea to flash into
his mind.

Presently I turned and frankly met his gaze. I had startled him out of
his habitual set taciturnity, but even as I looked the light that might
have been amaze and joy faded out of his face, leaving it the same old
mask.

Still I had seen enough. Like a bloodhound, I had a scent. "Thet's
funny, Russ, seein' as you drift with the gang Steele's bound to fight,"
remarked Hoden.

"Sure. I'm a sport. If I can't gamble with gentlemen I'll gamble with
rustlers."