ford had told him I was one of the Dinsmore
gang. Seems I'm all right except for bein' a rowdy an' a bully an' a
thief an' a bad egg generally."

"H'mp! Said you was a rustler, did he?" The Ranger caressed his goatee
and reflected on this before he pumped a question at the line-rider.
"Are you?"

"No more than Rutherford Wadley."

The Captain shot a swift slant look at this imperturbable young man. Was
there a hidden meaning in that answer?

"What's the matter with Wadley? Does he expect you to let Ford run it
over you? That ain't like Clint."

"He's likely listened to a pack o' lies."

"And you haven't heard from him since?"

"Yes, I have. He sent me my check an' a hundred-dollar bill."

Ellison sat up. "What for?"

"For my fancy bulldoggin'." The hard eyes of the young fellow smouldered
with resentment.

"By dog, did Clint send you money for savin' 'Mona?"

"He didn't say what it was for--so I rolled up the bill an' lit a
cigarette with it."

"You take expensive smokes, young man," chuckled the officer.

"It was on Wadley. I burned only half the bill. He can cash in the other
half, for I sent it back to him. When he got it, he sent for me."

"And you went?"

"You know damn well I didn't. When he wants me, he knows where to find
me."

"Most young hill-billies step when Clint tells 'em to."

"Do they?" asked the range-rider indifferently.

"You bet you. They jump when he whistles. What are you figurin' to do?"

"Haven't made up my mind yet. Mebbe I'll drift along the trail to the
Pecos country."

"What was Clint payin' you?"

"Sixty a month an' found."

"How'd you like to have yore wages lowered?"

"Meanin'--"

"That I'll give you a job."

Young Roberts had a capacity for silence. He asked no questions now, but
waited for Ellison to develop the situation.

"With the Rangers. Dollar a day an' furnish yore own bronc," explained
the Captain.

"The State of Texas is liberal," said the cowboy with dry sarcasm.

"That's as you look at it. If you're a money-grubber, don't join us. But
if you'd like to be one of the finest fightin' force in the world with
somethin' doin' every minute, then you'd better sign up. I'll promise
that you die young an' not in yore bed."

"Sounds right attractive," jeered the red-haired youngster with amiable
irony.

"It is, for men with red blood in 'em," retorted the gray-haired
fire-eater hotly.

"All right. I'll take your word for it, Captain. You've hire