JACK SERVES NOTICE
Jack Roberts liked to get his information first hand. On his way to the
jail he deflected, passed up the wide, dusty main street, and stopped at
a log "hogan" made of _bois d'arc_ timber and cedar from the brakes.
Across the front of it was printed roughly a sign:
THE SILVER DOLLAR
The Ranger took a little hitch at his guns to make sure they would slide
easily from the holsters in case of need, then strolled into the saloon,
a picture of negligent indifference.
A tall man, lank as a shad, was master of ceremonies. Steve Gurley was
in high feather. He was treating the crowd and was availing himself of
his privilege as host to do the bulk of the talking. His theme was the
righteousness of mob law, with particular application to the case of
Tony Alviro. He talked loudly, as befits one who is a leader of public
opinion.
Some wandering of attention in his audience brought him to a pause. He
turned, to see the Ranger leaning indolently against the door-jamb. Jack
was smiling in the manner of one quietly amused.
"Who invited you here?" demanded Gurley, taken aback, but unwilling to
show it.
"Me, I just dropped in to hear yore big talk. Reminds me of old
Geronimo. Like you, he gets all filled up with words about every so
often and has to steam off. Go ahead, Gurley. Don't let me interrupt
you. Make heap oration."
But Gurley's fluency was gone. His cross-eyed glance slid round the room
to take stock of his backers. Was this fellow Roberts alone, or had he a
dozen Rangers in town with him? He decided to bluff, though with no very
great confidence. For into the picture had walked a man, a personality,
dynamic and forceful. The outlaw had seen him in action once, and he had
been on that occasion as easy to handle as a cageful of panthers.
"Come to see the hangin', have you, Mr. Ranger?"
"Is there goin' to be a hangin'?"
"You betcha--to-night! Git around early, an' you can have a front seat."
Gurley added a word of explanation. "No greaser can git biggity an'
shoot up our friends without hangin' from the end of a wagon-tongue
_pronto_."
"We'll see what a judge an' jury say about it," suggested the Ranger
mildly.
"That so? No brindle-thatched guy in buckskin can interfere without
sleepin' in smoke. Understand?" The long, sallow man nervously stroked
his hair, which was flattened down on his forehead in a semicircle in
the absurd fashion of the day.
"Don't pull on yore picket-pin, Gurley," observed Roberts. "What I say
goes. There's goin' to be no hangin' till the courts say so."
A man had come into the saloon by the back door. He was a heavy-set,
slouchy man in jeans, broad-shouldered and bowlegged. He laughed grimly.
"I don't reckon you can put that over on folks of the short-grass
country, young fellow, me lad. We grow man-size, an' I don't expect
we'll ask yore say-so when we're ready for business."
Pete Dinsmore had the advantage of his colleague. He knew that Roberts
was the only Ranger in town. Also he was of tougher stuff. The leader of
the Dinsmore gang would go through.
Into the gray-blue eye of the young man came a look that chilled.
"Dinsmore, I'm not here to get into a rookus with you. But I'll serve
notice on you right now to keep yore mind off Alviro. He's in the hands
of the Texas Rangers. You know what that means."
Dinsmore met the warning with a sneer. "I was hittin' my heels on this
range when you was knee-high to a duck, kid. Don't make a mistake. Folks
don't make 'em with me twice." He thrust the head on his bull neck
forward and dropped a hand to the gun by his side.
The Ranger shook his head. "Not just now, Pete. You're a bad _hombre_; I
know that. Some day we're liable to tangle. But it will be in the way of
business. While I'm workin' for the State I've got no private feuds."
Jack turned and walked out of the place as casually as he had entered.
He knew now that Snark was right. Tascosa meant to hang the Mexican
within a few hours.
Evidently Tony had heard the news. He looked up with quick apprehension
when Snark opened the door of his cell to admit the Ranger.
"You promise' me fair trial, _senor_. Yet to-day they mean to hang me.
Not so?" he cried. The young Mexican was sweating drops of fear.
"That's why I'm here, Tony," answered Jack cheerfully. "The hangin'
programme won't go through if you do exactly as I say. I'll stand by
you. They'll not get you unless they get me. Is that fair?"
Confidence is born of confidence. Alviro felt himself buttressed by the
quiet strength of this vigorous youth. Broader shoulders than his had
assumed the responsibility.
"What is it that I am to do?" he asked, his liquid eyes filled with the
dumb worship of a dog.
"You're to walk right beside me. No matter how the crowd presses--no
matter what it does--stick right there. If you try to run, you're gone.
I can't save you. Understand?"
"_Si, senor._"
Roberts looked at his watch. "'Most time for the fireworks to begin.
You'll wait here till I come back, Tony. I'm goin' to give a little
exhibition first. Be with you _pronto_."
Little beads of sweat gathered again on the forehead of the prisoner.
The palms of his hands were hot and moist. He glanced nervously out of
the window. Ten minutes before there had been a few lookouts in sight;
now there were a hundred men or more. The mob was beginning to gather
for the storming of the sod-house. Soon the affairs of Tony Alviro would
reach a crisis.
"I--I'll nev' get out alive," said the Mexican in a dry whisper.
The Ranger grinned at him. "Don't worry. If the luck breaks right we'll
camp to-night under the stars. If it doesn't they'll bury us both,
Tony."
In that smile was life for Alviro. It expressed a soul unperturbed,
ready for anything that might come up. With this man beside him Tony
felt courage flowing back into his heart.