“Russ, I ain’t accusin’ Snell,” remonstrated Jim with eyes that made me thoughtful.

“Sure, I know you’re too good a sport to send a fellow up.  But Snell deserved what he got.  I saw his face when he made his talk to Sampson’s court.  Snell lied.  And I’ll tell you what, Jim, if it’d been me instead of that Ranger, Bud Snell would have got settled.”

Jim appeared to be agitated by my forcible intimation of friendship.

“Jim, that’s between ourselves,” I went on.  “I’m no fool.  And much as I blab when I’m hunky, it’s all air.  Maybe you’ve noticed that about me.  In some parts of Texas it’s policy to be close-mouthed.  Policy and healthy.  Between ourselves, as friends, I want you to know I lean some on Steele’s side of the fence.”

As I lighted a cigar I saw, out of the corner of my eye, how Hoden gave a quick start.  I expected some kind of a startling idea to flash into his mind.

Presently I turned and frankly met his gaze.  I had startled him out of his habitual set taciturnity, but even as I looked the light that might have been amaze and joy faded out of his face, leaving it the same old mask.

Still I had seen enough.  Like a bloodhound, I had a scent.  “Thet’s funny, Russ, seein’ as you drift with the gang Steele’s bound to fight,” remarked Hoden.

“Sure.  I’m a sport.  If I can’t gamble with gentlemen I’ll gamble with rustlers.”

Again he gave a slight start, and this time he hid his eyes.

“Wal, Russ, I’ve heard you was slick,” he said.

“You tumble, Jim.  I’m a little better on the draw.”

“On the draw?  With cards, an’ gun, too, eh?”

“Now, Jim, that last follows natural.  I haven’t had much chance to show how good I am on the draw with a gun.  But that’ll come soon.”

“Reckon thet talk’s a little air,” said Hoden with his dry laugh.  “Same as you leanin’ a little on the Ranger’s side of the fence.”

“But, Jim, wasn’t he game?  What’d you think of that stand?  Bluffed the whole gang!  The way he called Sampson—­why, it was great!  The justice of that call doesn’t bother me.  It was Steele’s nerve that got me.  That’d warm any man’s blood.”

There was a little red in Hoden’s pale cheeks and I saw him swallow hard.  I had struck deep again.

“Say, don’t you work for Sampson?” he queried.

“Me?  I guess not.  I’m Miss Sampson’s man.  He and Wright have tried to fire me many a time.”

“Thet so?” he said curiously.  “What for?”

“Too many silver trimmings on me, Jim.  And I pack my gun low down.”

“Wal, them two don’t go much together out here,” replied Hoden.  “But I ain’t seen thet anyone has shot off the trimmin’s.”

“Maybe it’ll commence, Jim, as soon as I stop buying drinks.  Talking about work—­who’d you say Snell worked for?”

“I didn’t say.”

“Well, say so now, can’t you?  Jim, you’re powerful peevish to-day.  It’s the bump on your head.  Who does Snell work for?”