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, and certainly I wanted to help harassed people, especially women and children; but mainly with me it was the zest, the thrill, the hazard, the matching of wits—­in a word, the adventure of the game.

Next morning I rode with the young ladies.  In the light of Sally’s persistently flagrant advances, to which I was apparently blind, I saw that my hard-won victory over self was likely to be short-lived.

That possibility made me outwardly like ice.  I was an attentive, careful, reliable, and respectful attendant, seeing to the safety of my charges; but the one-time gay and debonair cowboy was a thing of the past.

Sally, womanlike, had been a little—­a very little—­repentant; she had showed it, my indifference had piqued her; she had made advances and then my coldness had roused her spirit.  She was the kind of girl to value most what she had lost, and to throw consequences to the winds in winning it back.

When I divined this I saw my revenge.  To be sure, when I thought of it I had no reason to want revenge.  She had been most gracious to me.

But there was the catty thing she had said about being kissed again by her admirers.  Then, in all seriousness, sentiment aside, I dared not make up with her.

So the cold and indifferent part I played was imperative.

We halted out on the ridge and dismounted for the usual little rest.  Mine I took in the shade of a scrubby mesquite.  The girls strolled away out of sight.  It was a drowsy day, and I nearly fell asleep.

Something aroused me—­a patter of footsteps or a rustle of skirts.  Then a soft thud behind me gave me at once a start and a thrill.  First I saw Sally’s little brown hands on my shoulders.  Then her head, with hair all shiny and flying and fragrant, came round over my shoulder, softly smoothing my cheek, until her sweet, saucy, heated face was right under my eyes.