"Sure. Jim Hoden pointed him out to me yesterday. Both the Sneckers are
in town. From now on we're going to be busy, Russ."
"It can't come too soon for me," I replied. "Shall I chuck my job? Come
out from behind these cowboy togs?"
"Not yet. We need proof, Russ. We've got to be able to prove things.
Hang on at the ranch yet awhile."
"This Bo Snecker was scared stiff till he recognized Wright. Isn't that
proof?"
"No, that's nothing. We've got to catch Sampson and Wright red-handed."
"I don't like the idea of you trailing along alone," I protested.
"Remember what Neal told me. I'm to kick. It's time for me to hang round
with a couple of guns. You'll never use one."
"The hell I won't," he retorted, with a dark glance of passion. I was
surprised that my remark had angered him. "You fellows are all wrong. I
know _when_ to throw a gun. You ought to remember that Rangers have a
bad name for wanting to shoot. And I'm afraid it's deserved."
"Did you shoot at Snecker?" I queried.
"I could have got him in the back. But that wouldn't do. I shot three
times at his legs--tried to let him down. I'd have made him tell
everything he knew, but he ran. He was too fast for me.
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