Under such conditions the rustlers were capable of any mad act
of folly.
Morton and his men sent word flying around town that a fight was
imminent and all citizens should be prepared to defend their homes
against possible violence. But despite his warning I saw many
respectable citizens abroad whose quiet, unobtrusive manner and watchful
eyes and hard faces told me that when trouble began they wanted to be
there. Verily Ranger Steele had built his house of service upon a rock.
It did not seem too much to say that the next few days, perhaps hours,
would see a great change in the character and a proportionate decrease
in number of the inhabitants of this corner of Pecos County.
Morton and I were in the crowd that watched Blome, Snecker, and a dozen
other rustlers march down to Steele's jail. They had crowbars and they
had cans of giant powder, which they had appropriated from a hardware
store. If Steele had a jailer he was not in evidence. The door was
wrenched off and Bo Snecker, evidently not wholly recovered, brought
forth to his cheering comrades. Then some of the rustlers began to urge
back the pressing circle, and the word given out acted as a spur to
haste. The jail was to be blown up.
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