Then the town was to suffer a short deadly spell of violence,
directed anywhere, for the purpose of intimidating those people who had
begun to be restless under the influence of the Ranger. After that, big
herds of stock were to be rustled off the ranches to the north and
driven to El Paso.
Then the big man, who evidently was the leader of the present
convention, got up to depart. He went as swiftly as he had come, and was
followed by the slender fellow. As far as it was possible for me to be
sure, I identified these two as Snecker and his son. The others,
however, remained. Blome removed his mask, which action was duplicated
by the two rustlers who had stayed with him. They were both young,
bronzed, hard of countenance, not unlike cowboys. Evidently this was now
a social call on Sampson. He set out cigars and liquors for his guests,
and a general conversation ensued, differing little from what might have
been indulged in by neighborly ranchers. There was not a word spoken
that would have caused suspicion.
Blome was genial, gay, and he talked the most. Wright alone seemed
uncommunicative and unsociable. He smoked fiercely and drank
continually. All at once he straightened up as if listening.
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