?"

"You can guess what I mean, Captain, an' if you're lucky you'll guess
right. Point is, I'm leavin' the force to-day."

"Kinda sudden, ain't it, Tex?"

"At six o'clock to-night. Make a note of the time, Captain. After that
I'm playin' my own hand. Understand?"

"I understand you're sore as a thumb with a bone felon. Take yore time,
son. Don't go off half-cocked." The little Captain rose and put his hand
on the shoulder of the boy. "I reckon things have got in a sort of kink
for you. Give 'em time to unravel, Tex."

The eyes of the Ranger softened. "I've got nothin' against you, Captain.
You're all there. We won't go into any whyfors, but just let it go as it
stands. I want to quit my job--right away. This round-up of the
Dinsmores about cleans the Panhandle anyhow."

"You're the doctor, Tex. But why not take yore time? It costs nothin'
Tex to wait a day or two an' look around you first."

"I've got business--to-night. I'd rather quit when I said."

"What business?" asked Ellison bluntly. "You mentioned law-breakin'.
Aimin' to shoot up the town, are you?"

"At six to-night, Captain, my resignation takes effect."

The little man shrugged. "I hear you, Jack. You go off the pay-roll at
six. I can feel it in my bones that you're goin' to pull off some fool
business. Don't run on the rope too far, Jack. Everybody that breaks the
law looks alike to my boys, son."

"I'll remember."

"Good luck to you." Ellison offered his hand.

Roberts wrung it. "Same to you, Cap. So long."

The young man walked downtown, ate his dinner at the hotel, and from
there strolled down to the largest general store in town. Here he bought
supplies enough to last for a week--flour, bacon, salt, sugar, tobacco,
and shells for rifle and revolvers. These he carried to his room, where
he lay down on the bed and read a month-old Trinidad paper.

Presently the paper sagged. He began to nod, fell asleep. When he opened
his eyes again it was late in the afternoon. His watch told him that it
was just six o'clock.

He got up, took off the buckskin suit that had served him for a uniform,
and donned once more the jeans and chaps he had worn as a line-rider.

"Good-bye, Mr. Ranger," he told himself. "I reckon you can't have much
worse luck as a citizen than as an officer."

He buckled round his waist the belt that held his revolvers, and from
the corner of the room where it stood took his rifle. Carrying the
supplies he had that afternoon b