by Zane Grey
Chapter 11
THE FIGHT IN THE HOPE SO
I could plainly see the lights of his adobe house, but of course,nothing else was visible. There were no other lighted houses near.Several flashes gleamed, faded swiftly, to be followed by reports, andthen the unmistakable jingle of glass.
"I guess the fools have opened up, Steele," I said. His response was anangry grunt. It was just as well, I concluded, that things had begun tostir. Steele needed to be roused.
Suddenly a single sharp yell pealed out. Following it came a huge flareof light, a sheet of flame in which a great cloud of smoke or dust shotup. Then, with accompanying darkness, burst a low, deep, thunderousboom. The lights of the house went out, then came a crash. Points oflight flashed in a half-circle and the reports of guns blended with theyells of furious men, and all these were swallowed up in the roar of amob.
Another and a heavier explosion momentarily lightened the darkness andthen rent the air. It was succeeded by a continuous volley and a steadysound that, though composed of yells, screams, cheers, was not anythingbut a hideous roar of hate. It kept up long after there could have beenany possibility of life under the ruins of that house. It was more thanhate of Steele. All that was wild and lawless and violent hurled thisdeed at the Ranger Service.
Such events had happened before in Texas and other states; but,strangely, they never happened more than once in one locality. They wereexpressions, perhaps, that could never come but once.
I watched Steele through all that hideous din, that manifestation ofinsane rage at his life and joy at his death, and when silence once morereigned and he turned his white face to mine, I had a sensation ofdread. And dread was something particularly foreign to my nature.
"So Blome and the Sneckers think they've done for me," he muttered.
"Pleasant surprise for them to-morrow, eh, old man?" I queried.
"To-morrow? Look, Russ, what's left of my old 'dobe house is on fire. Theruins can't be searched soon. And I was particular to fix things so it'dlook like I was home. I just wanted to give them a chance. It'sincomprehensible how easy men like them can be duped. Whisky-soaked!Yes, they'll be surprised!"
He lingered a while, watching the smoldering fire and the dim columns ofsmoke curling up against the dark blue. "Russ, do you suppose they heardup at the ranch and think I'm--"
"They heard, of course," I replied. "But the girls know you're safe withme."
"Safe? I--I almost wish to God I was there under that heap of ruins,where the rustlers think they've left me."
"Well, Steele, old fellow, come on. We need some sleep." With Steele inthe lead, we stalked away into the open.
Two days later, about the middle of the forenoon, I sat upon a greatflat rock in the shade of a bushy mesquite, and, besides enjoying thevast, clear sweep of gold and gray plain below, I was otherwisepleasantly engaged. Sally sat as close to me as she could get, holdingto my arm as if she never intended to let go. On the other side MissSampson leaned against me, and she was white and breathless, partly fromthe quick ride out from the ranch, partly from agitation. She had grownthinner, and there were dark shadows under her eyes, yet she seemed onlymore beautiful. The red scarf with which I had signaled the girls wavedfrom a branch of the mesquite. At the foot of the ridge their horseswere halted in a shady spot.
"Take off your sombrero," I said to Sally. "You look hot. Besides,you're prettier with your hair flying." As she made no move, I took itoff for her. Then I made bold to perform the same office for MissSampson. She faintly smiled her thanks. Assuredly she had forgotten allher resentment. There were little beads of perspiration upon her whitebrow. What a beautiful mass of black-brown hair, with strands of red orgold! Pretty soon she would be bending that exquisite head and face overpoor Steele, and I, who had schemed this meeting, did not care what hemight do to me.
Pretty soon, also, there was likely to be an interview that would shakeus all to our depths, and naturally, I was somber at heart. But thoughmy outward mood of good humor may have been pretense, it certainly was apleasure to be with the girls again way out in the open. Both girls werequiet, and this made my task harder, and perhaps in my anxiety to wardoff questions and appear happy for their own sakes I made an ass ofmyself with my silly talk and familiarity. Had ever a Ranger such a jobas mine?
"Diane, did Sally show you her engagement ring?" I went on, bound totalk.
Miss Sampson either did not notice my use of her first name or she didnot object. She seemed so friendly, so helplessly wistful. "Yes. It'svery pretty. An antique. I've seen a few of them," she replied.
"I hope you'll let Sally marry me soon."
"_Let_ her? Sally Langdon? You haven't become acquainted with yourfiancee. But when--"
"Oh, next week, just as soon--"
"Russ!" cried Sally, blushing furiously.
"What's the matter?" I queried innocently.
"You're a little previous."
"Well, Sally, I don't presume to split hairs over dates. But, you see,you've become extremely more desirable--in the light of certainrevelations. Diane, wasn't Sally the deceitful thing? An heiress all thetime! And I'm to be a planter and smoke fine cigars and drink mintjuleps! No, there won't be any juleps."
"Russ, you're talking nonsense," reproved Sally. "Surely it's no time tobe funny."
"All right," I replied with resignation. It was no task to discard thathollow mask of humor. A silence ensued, and I waited for it to bebroken.
"Is Steele badly hurt?" asked Miss Sampson presently.
"No. Not what he or I'd call hurt at all. He's got a scalp wound, wherea bullet bounced off his skull. It's only a scratch. Then he's gotanother in the shoulder; but it's not bad, either."
"Where is he now?"
"Look across on the other ridge. See the big white stone? There, downunder the trees, is our camp. He's there."
"When may--I see him?" There was a catch in her low voice.
"He's asleep now. After what happened yesterday he was exhausted, andthe pain in his head kept him awake till late. Let him sleep a whileyet. Then you can see him."
"Did he know we were coming?"
"He hadn't the slightest idea. He'll be overjoyed to see you. He can'thelp that. But he'll about fall upon me with harmful intent."
"Why?"
"Well, I know he's afraid to see you."
"Why?"
"Because it only makes his duty harder."
"Ah!" she breathed.
It seemed to me that my intelligence confirmed a hope of hers and gaveher relief. I felt something terrible in the balance for Steele. And Iwas glad to be able to throw them together. The catastrophe must fall,and now the sooner it fell the better. But I experienced a tightening ofmy lips and a tugging at my heart-strings.
"Sally, what do you and Diane know about the goings-on in townyesterday?" I asked.
"Not much. George was like an insane man. I was afraid to go near him.Uncle wore a sardonic smile. I heard him curse George--oh, terribly! Ibelieve he hates George. Same as day before yesterday, there were menriding in and out. But Diane and I heard only a little, and conflictingstatements at that. We knew there was fighting. Dick and the servants,the cowboys, all brought rumors. Steele was killed at least ten timesand came to life just as many.
"I can't recall, don't want to recall, all we heard. But this morningwhen I saw the red scarf flying in the wind--well, Russ, I was so glad Icould not see through the glass any more. We knew then Steele was allright or you wouldn't have put up the signal."
"Reckon few people in Linrock realize just what _did_ come off," Ireplied with a grim chuckle.
"Russ, I want you to tell me," said Miss Sampson earnestly.
"What?" I queried sharply.
"About yesterday--what Steele did--what happened."
"Miss Sampson, I could tell you in a few short statements of fact or Icould take two hours in the telling. Which do you prefer?"
"I prefer the long telling. I want to know all about him."
"
But why, Miss Sampson? Consider. This is hardly a story for asensitive woman's ears."
"I am no coward," she replied, turning eyes to me that flashed like darkfire.
"But why?" I persisted. I wanted a good reason for calling up all thedetails of the most strenuous and terrible day in my border experience.She was silent a moment. I saw her gaze turn to the spot where Steelelay asleep, and it was a pity he could not see her eyes then. "Frankly,I don't want to tell you," I added, and I surely would have been glad toget out of the job.
"I want to hear--because I glory in his work," she replied deliberately.
I gathered as much from the expression of her face as from the deep ringof her voice, the clear content of her statement. She loved the Ranger,but that was not all of her reason.
"His work?" I echoed. "Do you want him to succeed in it?"
"With all my heart," she said, with a white glow on her face.
"My God!" I ejaculated. I just could not help it. I felt Sally's smallfingers clutching my arm like sharp pincers. I bit my lips to keep themshut. What if Steele had heard her say that? Poor, noble,justice-loving, blind girl! She knew even less than I hoped. I forced mythought to the question immediately at hand. She gloried in the Ranger'swork. She wanted with all her heart to see him succeed in it. She had awoman's pride in his manliness. Perhaps, with a woman's complex,incomprehensible motive, she wanted Steele to be shown to her in all thepower that made him hated and feared by lawless men. She had finallyaccepted the wild life of this border as something terrible andinevitable, but passing. Steele was one of the strange and great andmisunderstood men who were making that wild life pass.
For the first time I realized that Miss Sampson, through sharpened eyesof love, saw Steele as he really was--a wonderful and necessaryviolence. Her intelligence and sympathy had enabled her to see throughdefamation and the false records following a Ranger; she had had nochoice but to love him; and then a woman's glory in a work that freedmen, saved women, and made children happy effaced forever the horror ofa few dark deeds of blood.
"Miss Sampson, I must tell you first," I began, and hesitated--"that I'mnot a cowboy. My wild stunts, my drinking and gaming--these were allpretense."
"Indeed! I am very glad to hear it. And was Sally in your confidence?"
"Only lately. I am a United States deputy marshal in the service ofSteele."
She gave a slight start, but did not raise her head.
"I have deceived you. But, all the same, I've been your friend. I askyou to respect my secret a little while. I'm telling you becauseotherwise my relation to Steele yesterday would not be plain. Now, ifyou and Sally will use this blanket, make yourselves more comfortableseats, I'll begin my story."
Miss Sampson allowed me to arrange a place for her where she could restat ease, but Sally returned to my side and stayed there. She was anenigma to-day--pale, brooding, silent--and she never looked at me exceptwhen my face was half averted.
"Well," I began, "night before last Steele and I lay hidden among therocks near the edge of town, and we listened to and watched thedestruction of Steele's house. It had served his purpose to leave lightsburning, to have shadows blow across the window-blinds, and to have adummy in his bed. Also, he arranged guns to go off inside the house atthe least jar. Steele wanted evidence against his enemies. It was notthe pleasantest kind of thing to wait there listening to that drunkenmob. There must have been a hundred men. The disturbance and the intentworked strangely upon Steele. It made him different. In the dark Icouldn't tell how he looked, but I felt a mood coming in him that fairlymade me dread the next day.
"About midnight we started for our camp here. Steele got in some sleep,but I couldn't. I was cold and hot by turns, eager and backward, furiousand thoughtful. You see, the deal was such a complicated one, andto-morrow certainly was nearing the climax. By morning I was sick,distraught, gloomy, and uncertain. I had breakfast ready when Steeleawoke. I hated to look at him, but when I did it was like being revived.
"He said: 'Russ, you'll trail alongside me to-day and through the restof this mess.'
"That gave me another shock. I want to explain to you girls that thiswas the first time in my life I was backward at the prospects of afight. The shock was the jump of my pulse. My nerve came back. To lineup with Steele against Blome and his gang--that would be great!
"'All right, old man,' I replied. 'We're going after them, then?'
"He only nodded.
"After breakfast I watched him clean and oil and reload his guns. Ididn't need to ask him if he expected to use them. I didn't need to urgeupon him Captain Neal's command.
"'Russ,' said Steele, 'we'll go in together. But before we get to townI'll leave you and circle and come in at the back of the Hope So. Youhurry on ahead, post Morton and his men, get the lay of the gang, ifpossible, and then be at the Hope So when I come in.'
"I didn't ask him if I had a free hand with my gun. I intended to havethat. We left camp and hurried toward town. It was near noon when weseparated.
"I came down the road, apparently from Sampson's ranch. There was acrowd around the ruins of Steele's house. It was one heap of crumbled'dobe bricks and burned logs, still hot and smoking. No attempt had beenmade to dig into the ruins. The curious crowd was certain that Steelelay buried under all that stuff. One feature of that night assault mademe ponder. Daylight discovered the bodies of three dead men, rustlers,who had been killed, the report went out, by random shots. Otherparticipants in the affair had been wounded. I believed Morton and hismen, under cover of the darkness and in the melee, had sent in someshots not calculated upon the program.
"From there I hurried to town. Just as I had expected, Morton and Zimmerwere lounging in front of the Hope So. They had company, disreputableand otherwise. As yet Morton's crowd had not come under suspicion. Hewas wild for news of Steele, and when I gave it, and outlined the plan,he became as cool and dark and grim as any man of my kind could havewished. He sent Zimmer to get the others of their clique. Then heacquainted me with a few facts, although he was noncommittal in regardto my suspicion as to the strange killing of the three rustlers.
"Blome, Bo Snecker, Hilliard, and Pickens, the ringleaders, had paintedthe town in celebration of Steele's death. They all got gloriously drunkexcept old man Snecker. He had cold feet, they said. They were too happyto do any more shooting or mind what the old rustler cautioned. It wastwo o'clock before they went to bed.
"This morning, after eleven, one by one they appeared with theirfollowers. The excitement had died down. Ranger Steele was out of theway and Linrock was once more wide open, free and easy. Blome aloneseemed sullen and spiritless, unresponsive to his comrades and theiradmirers. And now, at the time of my arrival, the whole gang, with theexception of old Snecker, were assembled in the Hope So.
"'Zimmer will be clever enough to drift his outfit along one or two at atime?' I asked Morton, and he reassured me. Then we went into thesaloon.
"There were perhaps sixty or seventy men in the place, more than half ofwhom were in open accord with Blome's gang. Of the rest there were manyof doubtful repute, and a few that might have been neutral, yet all thetime were secretly burning to help any cause against these rustlers. Atall events, I gathered that impression from the shadowed faces, thetense bodies, the too-evident indication of anything but carelesspresence there. The windows were open. The light was clear. Few mensmoked, but all had a drink before them. There was the ordinary subduedhum of conversation. I surveyed the scene, picked out my position so asto be close to Steele when he entered, and sauntered round to it. Mortonaimlessly leaned against a post.
"Presently Zimmer came in with a man and they advanced to the bar. Othermen entered as others went out. Blome, Bo Snecker, Hilliard, and Pickenshad a table full in the light of the open windows. I recognized thefaces of the two last-named, but I had not, until Morton informed me,known who they were. Pickens was little, scrubby, dusty, sandy, mottled,and he resembled a rattlesnake. Hilliard was big, gaunt, bronzed, withhuge mustache a
nd hollow, fierce eyes. I never had seen a grave-robber,but I imagined one would be like Hilliard. Bo Snecker was a sleek, slim,slender, hard-looking boy, marked dangerous, because he was too youngand too wild to have caution or fear. Blome, the last of the bunch,showed the effects of a bad night.
"You girls remember how handsome he was, but he didn't look it now. Hisface was swollen, dark, red, and as it had been bright, now it was dull.Indeed, he looked sullen, shamed, sore. He was sober now. Thought waswritten on his clouded brow. He was awakening now to the truth that theday before had branded him a coward and sent him out to bolster upcourage with drink. His vanity had begun to bleed. He knew, if hisfaithful comrades had not awakened to it yet, that his prestige had beenruined. For a gunman, he had suffered the last degradation. He had beenbidden to draw and he had failed of the nerve.
"He breathed heavily; his eyes were not clear; his hands were shaky.Almost I pitied this rustler who very soon must face an incredibly swiftand mercilessly fatal Ranger. Face him, too, suddenly, as if the gravehad opened to give up its dead.
"Friends and comrades of this center group passed to and fro, and therewas much lazy, merry, though not loud, talk. The whole crowd was stillhalf-asleep. It certainly was an auspicious hour for Steele to confrontthem, since that duty was imperative. No man knew the stunningparalyzing effect of surprise better than Steele. I, of course, musttake my cue from him, or the sudden development of events.
"But Jack Blome did not enter into my calculations. I gave him, at most,about a minute to live after Steele entered the place. I meant to keepsharp eyes all around. I knew, once with a gun out, Steele could killBlome's comrades at the table as quick as lightning, if he chose. Irather thought my game was to watch his outside partners. This wasright, and as it turned out, enabled me to save Steele's life.
"Moments passed and still the Ranger did not come. I began to getnervous. Had he been stopped? I scouted the idea. Who could have stoppedhim, then? Probably the time seemed longer than it really was. Mortonshowed the strain, also. Other men looked drawn, haggard, waiting as ifexpecting a thunderbolt. Once in my roving gaze I caught Blandy's glintyeye on me. I didn't like the gleam. I said to myself I'd watch him if Ihad to do it out of the back of my head. Blandy, by the way, is--was--Ishould say, the Hope So bartender." I stopped to clear my throat and getmy breath.
"Was," whispered Sally. She quivered with excitement. Miss Sampson benteyes upon me that would have stirred a stone man.
"Yes, he was once," I replied ambiguously, but mayhap my grimnessbetrayed the truth. "Don't hurry me, Sally. I guarantee you'll be sickenough presently.
"Well, I kept my eyes shifty. And I reckon I'll never forget that room.Likely I saw what wasn't really there. In the excitement, the suspense,I must have made shadows into real substance. Anyway, there was thehalf-circle of bearded, swarthy men around Blome's table. There were thefour rustlers--Blome brooding, perhaps vaguely, spiritually, listeningto a knock; there was Bo Snecker, reckless youth, fondling a flower hehad, putting the stem in his glass, then to his lips, and lastly intothe buttonhole of Blome's vest; there was Hilliard, big, gloomy, maybewith his cavernous eyes seeing the hell where I expected he'd soon be;and last, the little dusty, scaly Pickens, who looked about to leap andsting some one.
"In the lull of the general conversation I heard Pickens say: 'Jack,drink up an' come out of it. Every man has an off day. You've gambledlong enough to know every feller gits called. An' as Steele has cashed,what the hell do you care?
"Hilliard nodded his ghoul's head and blinked his dead eyes. Bo Sneckerlaughed. It wasn't any different laugh from any other boy's. Iremembered then that he killed Hoden. I began to sweat fire. WouldSteele ever come?
"'Jim, the ole man hed cold feet an' he's give 'em to Jack,' said Bo.'It ain't nothin' to lose your nerve once. Didn't I run like a scaredjack-rabbit from Steele? Watch me if he comes to life, as the ole manhinted!'
"'About mebbe Steele wasn't in the 'dobe at all. Aw, thet's a joke! Iseen him in bed. I seen his shadder. I heard his shots comin' from theroom. Jack, you seen an' heerd same as me.'
"'Sure. I know the Ranger's cashed,' replied Blome. 'It's not that. I'msore, boys.'
"'Deader 'n a door-nail in hell!' replied Pickens, louder, as he liftedhis glass. 'Here's to Lone Star Steele's ghost! An' if I seen it thisminnit I'd ask it to waltz with me!'
"The back door swung violently, and Steele, huge as a giant, plungedthrough and leaped square in front of that table.
"Some one of them let out a strange, harsh cry. It wasn't Blome orSnecker--probably Pickens. He dropped the glass he had lifted. The cryhad stilled the room, so the breaking of the glass was plainly heard.For a space that must have been short, yet seemed long, everybody stoodtight. Steele with both hands out and down, leaned a little, in a way Ihad never seen him do. It was the position of a greyhound, but that wasmerely the body of him. Steele's nerve, his spirit, his meaning wasthere, like lightning about to strike. Blome maintained a ghastly,stricken silence.
"Then the instant was plain when he realized this was no ghost ofSteele, but the Ranger in the flesh. Blome's whole frame rippled asthought jerked him out of his trance. His comrades sat stone-still. ThenHilliard and Pickens dived without rising from the table. Their hastebroke the spell.
"I wish I could tell it as quick as it happened. But Bo Snecker, turningwhite as a sheet, stuck to Blome. All the others failed him, as he hadguessed they would fail. Low curses and exclamations were uttered by mensliding and pressing back, but the principals were mute. I was thinkinghard, yet I had no time to get to Steele's side. I, like the rest, washeld fast. But I kept my eyes sweeping around, then back again to thatcenter pair.
"Blome slowly rose. I think he did it instinctively. Because if he hadexpected his first movement to start the action he never would havemoved. Snecker sat partly on the rail of his chair, with both feetsquare on the floor, and he never twitched a muscle. There was astriking difference in the looks of these two rustlers. Snecker hadburning holes for eyes in his white face. At the last he was staunch,defiant, game to the core. He didn't think. But Blome faced death andknew it. It was infinitely more than the facing of foes, the taking ofstock, preliminary to the even break. Blome's attitude was that of atrapped wolf about to start into savage action; nevertheless, equally itwas the pitifully weak stand of a ruffian against ruthless and powerfullaw.
"The border of Pecos County could have had no greater lesson thanthis--Blome face-to-face with the Ranger. That part of the borderpresent saw its most noted exponent of lawlessness a coward, almostpowerless to go for his gun, fatally sure of his own doom.
"But that moment, seeming so long, really so short, had to end. Blomemade a spasmodic upheaval of shoulder and arm. Snecker a second laterflashed into movement.
"Steele blurred in my sight. His action couldn't be followed. But I sawhis gun, waving up, flame red once--twice--and the reports almost boomedtogether.
"Blome bent forward, arm down, doubled up, and fell over the table andslid to the floor.
"But Snecker's gun cracked with Steele's last shot. I heard the bulletstrike Steele. It made me sick as if it had hit me. But Steele neverbudged. Snecker leaped up, screaming, his gun sputtering to the floor.His left hand swept to his right arm, which had been shattered bySteele's bullet.
"Blood streamed everywhere. His screams were curses, and then ended,testifying to a rage hardly human. Then, leaping, he went down on hisknees after the gun.
"Don't pick it up," called Steele; his command would have checked anyonesave an insane man. For an instant it even held Snecker. On his knees,right arm hanging limp, left extended, and face ghastly with agony andfiendish fury, he was certainly an appalling sight.
"'Bo, you're courtin' death,' called a hard voice from the crowd.
"'Snecker, wait. Don't make me kill you!' cried Steele swiftly. 'You'restill a boy. Surrender! You'll outlive your sentence many years. Ipromise clemency. Hold, you fool!'
"But Snecker was not to be denied th
e last game move. He scrabbled forhis gun. Just then something, a breathtaking intuition--I'll never knowwhat--made me turn my head. I saw the bartender deliberately aim a hugegun at Steele. If he had not been so slow, I would have been too late. Iwhirled and shot. Talk about nick of time! Blandy pulled trigger just asmy bullet smashed into his head.
"He dropped dead behind the bar and his gun dropped in front. But he hadhit Steele.
"The Ranger staggered, almost fell. I thought he was done, and, yelling,I sped to him.
"But he righted himself. Then I wheeled again. Someone in the crowdkilled Bo Snecker as he wobbled up with his gun. That was the signal fora wild run for outdoors, for cover. I heard the crack of guns andwhistle of lead. I shoved Steele back of the bar, falling over Blandy asI did so.
"When I got up Steele was leaning over the bar with a gun in each hand.There was a hot fight then for a minute or so, but I didn't fire a shot.Morton and his crowd were busy. Men ran everywhere, shooting, ducking,cursing. The room got blue with smoke till you couldn't see, and thenthe fight changed to the street.
"Steele and I ran out. There was shooting everywhere. Morton's crowdappeared to be in pursuit of rustlers in all directions. I ran withSteele, and did not observe his condition until suddenly he fell rightdown in the street. Then he looked so white and so bloody I thought he'dstopped another bullet and--"
Here Miss Sampson's agitation made it necessary for me to halt my story,and I hoped she had heard enough. But she was not sick, as Sallyappeared to me; she simply had been overcome by emotion. And presently,with a blaze in her eyes that showed how her soul was aflame withrighteous wrath at these rustlers and ruffians, and how, whether sheknew it or not, the woman in her loved a fight, she bade me go on. So Ipersevered, and, with poor little Sally sagging against me, I went onwith the details of that fight.
I told how Steele rebounded from his weakness and could no more havebeen stopped than an avalanche. For all I saw, he did not use his gunsagain. Here, there, everywhere, as Morton and his squad cornered arustler, Steele would go in, ordering surrender, promising protection.He seemed to have no thoughts of bullets. I could not hold him back, andit was hard to keep pace with him. How many times he was shot at I hadno idea, but it was many. He dragged forth this and that rustler, andturned them all over to Morton to be guarded. More than once heprotected a craven rustler from the summary dealing Morton wanted to seein order.
I told Miss Sampson particularly how Steele appeared to me, what hiseffect was on these men, how toward the end of the fight rustlers wereappealing to him to save them from these new-born vigilantes. I believedI drew a picture of the Ranger that would live forever in her heart ofhearts. If she were a hero-worshiper she would have her fill.
One thing that was strange to me--leaving fight, action, blood, perilout of the story--the singular exultation, for want of some better term,that I experienced in recalling Steele's look, his wonderful cold,resistless, inexplicable presence, his unquenchable spirit which was atonce deadly and merciful. Other men would have killed where he saved. Irecalled this magnificent spiritual something about him, remembered itstrongest in the ring of his voice as he appealed to Bo Snecker not toforce him to kill. Then I told how we left a dozen prisoners under guardand went back to the Hope So to find Blome where he had fallen. Steele'sbullet had cut one of the petals of the rose Snecker had playfully putin the rustler's buttonhole. Bright and fatal target for an eye likeSteele's! Bo Snecker lay clutching his gun, his face set rigidly in thatlast fierce expression of his savage nature. There were five other deadmen on the floor, and, significant of the work of Steele's unknownallies, Hilliard and Pickens were among them.
"Steele and I made for camp then," I concluded. "We didn't speak a wordon the way out. When we reached camp all Steele said was for me to gooff and leave him alone. He looked sick. I went off, only not very far.I knew what was wrong with him, and it wasn't bullet-wounds. I was nearwhen he had his spell and fought it out.
"Strange how spilling blood affects some men! It never bothered me much.I hope I'm human, too. I certainly felt an awful joy when I sent thatbullet into Blandy's bloated head in time. And I'll always feel that wayabout it. But Steele's different."
