“Yes, you’ve got to ruin her happiness, if not her life.”

“Why?  Speak out, Russ.  All this comes like a blow.  There for a little I hoped you had worked out things differently from me.  No hope.  Ruin her life!  Why?”

I could explain this strange agitation in Steele in no other way except that realization had brought keen suffering as incomprehensible as it was painful.  I could not tell if it came from suddenly divined love for Diane Sampson equally with a poignant conviction that his fate was to wreck her.  But I did see that he needed to speak out the brutal truth.

“Steele, old man, you’ll ruin Diane Sampson, because, as arrest looks improbable to me, you’ll have to kill her father.”

“My God!  Why, why?  Say it!”

“Because Sampson is the leader of the Linrock gang of rustlers.”

That night before we parted we had gone rather deeply into the plan of action for the immediate future.

First I gave Steele my earnest counsel and then as stiff an argument as I knew how to put up, all anent the absolute necessity of his eternal vigilance.  If he got shot in a fair encounter with his enemies—­well, that was a Ranger’s risk and no disgrace.  But to be massacred in bed, knifed, in the dark, shot in the back, ambushed in any manner—­not one of these miserable ends must be the last record of Vaughn Steele.

He promised me in a way that made me wonder if he would ever sleep again or turn his back on anyone—­made me wonder too, at the menace in his voice.  Steele seemed likely to be torn two ways, and already there was a hint of future desperation.

It was agreed that I make cautious advances to Hoden and Morton, and when I could satisfy myself of their trustworthiness reveal my identity to them.  Through this I was to cultivate Zimmer, and then other ranchers whom we should decide could be let into the secret.

It was not only imperative that we learn through them clues by which we might eventually fix guilt on the rustler gang, but also just as imperative that we develop a band of deputies to help us when the fight began.

Steele, now that he was back in Linrock, would have the center of the stage, with all eyes upon him.  We agreed, moreover, that the bolder the front now the better the chance of ultimate success.  The more nerve he showed the less danger of being ambushed, the less peril in facing vicious men.

But we needed a jail.  Prisoners had to be corraled after arrest, or the work would be useless, almost a farce, and there was no possibility of repeating trips to Del Rio.

We could not use an adobe house for a jail, because that could be easily cut out of or torn down.

Finally I remembered an old stone house near the end of the main street; it had one window and one door, and had been long in disuse.  Steele would rent it, hire men to guard and feed his prisoners; and if these prisoners bribed or fought their way to freedom, that would not injure the great principle for which he stood.