“I told Neal I’d be lucky to get you,” said Steele, after a silence.

That was the only comment on my actions, the only praise, but the quiet way he spoke it made me feel like a boy undeserving of so much.

“Here, I forgot the money Neal sent,” I went on, glad to be rid of the huge roll of bills.

The Ranger showed surprise.  Besides, he was very glad.

“The Captain loves the service,” said Steele.  “He alone knows the worth of the Rangers.  And the work he’s given his life to—­the good that service really does—­all depends on you and me, Russ!”

I assented, gloomily enough.  Then I waited while he pondered.

The moon soared clear; there was a cool wind rustling the greasewood; a dog bayed a barking coyote; lights twinkled down in the town.

I looked back up at the dark hill and thought of Sally Langdon.  Getting here to Linrock, meeting Steele had not changed my feelings toward her, only somehow they had removed me far off in thought, out of possible touch, it seemed.

“Well, son, listen,” began Steele.  His calling me that was a joke, yet I did not feel it.  “You’ve made a better start than I could have figured.  Neal said you were lucky.  Perhaps.  But you’ve got brains.

“Now, here’s your cue for the present.  Work for Miss Sampson.  Do your best for her as long as you last.  I don’t suppose you’ll last long.  You have got to get in with this gang in town.  Be a flash cowboy.  You don’t need to get drunk, but you’re to pretend it.

“Gamble.  Be a good fellow.  Hang round the barrooms.  I don’t care how you play the part, so long as you make friends, learn the ropes.  We can meet out here at nights to talk and plan.

“You’re to take sides with those who’re against me.  I’ll furnish you with the money.  You’d better appear to be a winning gambler, even if you’re not.  How’s this plan strike you?”

“Great—­except for one thing,” I replied.  “I hate to lie to Miss Sampson.  She’s true blue, Steele.”

“Son, you haven’t got soft on her?”

“Not a bit.  Maybe I’m soft on the little cousin.  But I just like Miss Sampson—­think she’s fine—­could look up to her.  And I hate to be different from what she thinks.”

“I understand, Russ,” he replied in his deep voice that had such quality to influence a man.  “It’s no decent job.  You’ll be ashamed before her.  So would I. But here’s our work, the hardest ever cut out for Rangers.  Think what depends upon it.  And—­”

“There’s something wrong with Miss Sampson’s father,” I interrupted.

“Something strange if not wrong.  No man in this community is beyond us, Russ, or above suspicion.  You’ve a great opportunity.  I needn’t say use your eyes and ears as never before.”

“I hope Sampson turns out to be on the square,” I replied.  “He might be a lax mayor, too good-natured to uphold law in a wild country.  And his Southern pride would fire at interference.  I don’t like him, but for his daughter’s sake I hope we’re wrong.”