Finally I remembered an old stone house near the end of the main street;
it had one window and one door, and had been long in disuse. Steele
would rent it, hire men to guard and feed his prisoners; and if these
prisoners bribed or fought their way to freedom, that would not injure
the great principle for which he stood.

Both Steele and I simultaneously, from different angles of reasoning,
had arrived at a conviction of Sampson's guilt. It was not so strong as
realization; rather a divination.

Long experience in detecting, in feeling the hidden guilt of men, had
sharpened our senses for that particular thing. Steele acknowledged a
few mistakes in his day; but I, allowing for the same strength of
conviction, had never made a single mistake.

But conviction was one thing and proof vastly another. Furthermore, when
proof was secured, then came the crowning task--that of taking desperate
men in a wild country they dominated.

Verily, Steele and I had our work cut out for us. However, we were
prepared to go at it with infinite patience and implacable resolve.
Steele and I differed only in the driving incentive; of course, outside
of that one binding vow to save the Ranger Service.

He had a strange passion, almost an obsession, to represent the law of
Texas, and by so doing render something of safety and happiness to the
honest pioneers.

Beside Steele I knew I shrunk to a shadow. I was not exactly a heathen,