CHAPTER XVII. THE PLOT AT HACKAMORE. Nate Dunbar’s first inquiry, after he had put up his horse in the Hackamore corral and dropped in at the Delmonico Hotel, was for a jewelry peddler. “There was one here,” said the hotel clerk, “but one o’ Benner’s men come in arter him an’ he’s gone ter the Circle-B. He’ll be back, I reckon, as soon’s he unloads some o’ his stuff on Lige Benner.” It was after twelve o’clock, and Dunbar scoured the dust from his face and hands and went into the dining room for his dinner. The first thing he wanted to buy was a ring with a genuine “spark” for Hattie. But he’d have to postpone that and go hunting for cowboys and ranch supplies. At the general store where he got the goods for the ranch he heard of two or three experienced men who were out of a job. He found them in a saloon, and hired two of the men on the spot. The third of the trio was a fellow whose looks wouldn’t pass muster. The troubles of Perry and Dunbar were well known all up and down the Brazos. A few days before, public opinion had been solidly against them; but now, thanks to the energy of Buffalo Bill and his pards, public opinion had undergone a change. Everywhere he went Dunbar was greeted cordially. “Always knew you an’ Dick Perry would come out on top,” ran the general theme of talk. Nate Dunbar smiled grimly. He knew that nearly every one in Hackamore was under the thumb of the cattle barons, and that the spectacular work of the scout and his pards, alone, had faced every cattle baron but Lige Benner the other way around. It wasn’t for himself that the people of Hackamore showed so much sympathetic interest in him and Perry and their fortunes, but because of the potent influence of the king of scouts and his compadres. If was three o’clock in the afternoon when Dunbar saw Abraham Isaacs riding into Hackamore. Instantly the young rancher bethought himself of the diamond ring which he had set his heart on buying for his wife. He was at the hotel as soon as the Jew got there. “Got any nice stones set in a ring, Uncle?” asked Nate. “If you have, I reckon you and I can do business.” Isaacs peered at him from under his bushy brows. “Who you was, young chentleman?” he asked. “Dunbar, of the Star-A ranch,” was the answer. A flicker ran through the Jew’s eyes, and he trembled a little as he shifted his battered satchel from one hand to the other. “Ach, mein friendt,” said he, “I haf got some of der finest shtones in rings vat efer you see, yah, so. You got der money to buy, I got der rings to sell. Vat you like?” “Come off some place where we can be by ourselves,” answered Nate. “I don’t like to buy finery with so many folks lookin’ on.” The clerk offered them the use of a room, and they were soon in chairs, looking over the peddler’s stock.