I gauged the hold the rustler gang had on Linrock by the difficult job
it was to stir this really courageous old cattleman. He had grown up
with the evil. To him it must have been a necessary one, the same as dry
seasons and cyclones.

"Russ, I'll look you up the next time I come to town," he said soberly.

We parted, and I, more than content with the meeting, retraced my steps
down street to the Hope So saloon.

Here I entered, bent on tasks as sincere as the ones just finished, but
displeasing, because I had to mix with a low, profane set, to cultivate
them, to drink occasionally despite my deftness at emptying glasses on
the floor, to gamble with them and strangers, always playing the part of
a flush and flashy cowboy, half drunk, ready to laugh or fight.

On the night of the fifth day after Steele's departure, I went, as was
my habit, to the rendezvous we maintained at the pile of rocks out in
the open.

The night was clear, bright starlight, without any moon, and for this
latter fact safer to be abroad. Often from my covert I had seen dark
figures skulking in and out of Linrock.

It would have been interesting to hold up these mysterious travelers; so
far, however, this had not been our game. I had enough to keep my own
tracks hidden, and my own comings and goings.

I liked to be out in the night, with the darkness close down to the
earth, and the feeling of a limitless open all around. Not only did I