It was to go boldy into the
saloon, ask for the rustler, first pretend I had a reply from Morton and
then, when I had Snecker's ear, whisper a message supposedly from
Sampson. If Snecker was too keen to be decoyed I could at least surprise
him off his guard and kill him, then run for my horse. The plan seemed
clever to me. I had only one thing to fear, and that was a possibility
of the rustlers having seen my part in Steele's defense the other day.
That had to be risked. There were always some kind of risks to be faced.
It was scarcely a block and a half to the Hope So. Before I arrived I
knew I had been seen. When I dismounted before the door I felt cold, yet
there was an exhilaration in the moment. I never stepped more naturally
and carelessly into the saloon. It was full of men. There were men
behind the bar helping themselves. Evidently Blandy's place had not been
filled. Every face near the door was turned toward me; dark, intent,
scowling, malignant they were, and made me need my nerve.
"Say, boys, I've a word for Snecker," I called, quite loud. Nobody
stirred. I swept my glance over the crowd, but did not see Snecker. "I'm
in some hurry," I added.
"Bill ain't here," said a man at the table nearest me.
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