I had no time to make inquiries, for my roving eye caught Frank Morton
in the doorway, and evidently he wanted to attract my attention. He
turned away and I followed. When I got outside, he was leaning against
the hitching-rail. One look at this big rancher was enough for me to see
that he had been told my part in Steele's game, and that he himself had
roused to the Texas fighting temper. He had a clouded brow. He looked
somber and thick. He seemed slow, heavy, guarded.
"Howdy, Russ," he said. "We've been wantin' you."
"There's ten of us in town, all scattered round, ready. It's goin' to
start to-day."
"Where's Steele?" was my first query.
"Saw him less'n hour ago. He's somewhere close. He may show up any
time."
"Is he all right?"
"Wai, he was pretty fit a little while back," replied Morton
significantly.
"What's come off? Tell me all."
"Wai, the ball opened last night, I reckon. Jack Blome came swaggerin'
in here askin' for Steele. We all knew what he was in town for. But last
night he came out with it. Every man in the saloons, every man on the
streets heard Blome's loud an' longin' call for the Ranger. Blome's pals
took it up and they all enjoyed themselves some.
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