“Presently Zimmer came in with a man and they advanced to the bar.  Other men entered as others went out.  Blome, Bo Snecker, Hilliard, and Pickens had a table full in the light of the open windows.  I recognized the faces 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, with huge mustache and 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 young and 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.  His face 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 was written on his clouded brow.  He was awakening now to the truth that the day before had branded him a coward and sent him out to bolster up courage with drink.  His vanity had begun to bleed.  He knew, if his faithful comrades had not awakened to it yet, that his prestige had been ruined.  For a gunman, he had suffered the last degradation.  He had been bidden 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 swift and mercilessly fatal Ranger.  Face him, too, suddenly, as if the grave had opened to give up its dead.

“Friends and comrades of this center group passed to and fro, and there was much lazy, merry, though not loud, talk.  The whole crowd was still half-asleep.  It certainly was an auspicious hour for Steele to confront them, since that duty was imperative.  No man knew the stunning paralyzing effect of surprise better than Steele.  I, of course, must take 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 keep sharp eyes all around.  I knew, once with a gun out, Steele could kill Blome’s comrades at the table as quick as lightning, if he chose.  I rather thought my game was to watch his outside partners.  This was right, and as it turned out, enabled me to save Steele’s life.

“Moments passed and still the Ranger did not come.  I began to get nervous.  Had he been stopped?  I scouted the idea.  Who could have stopped him, then?  Probably the time seemed longer than it really was.  Morton showed the strain, also.  Other men looked drawn, haggard, waiting as if expecting a thunderbolt.  Once in my roving gaze I caught Blandy’s glinty eye on me.  I didn’t like the gleam.  I said to myself I’d watch him if I had to do it out of the back of my head.  Blandy, by the way, is—­was—­I should say, the Hope So bartender.”  I stopped to clear my throat and get my breath.