"You can't slip him out unnoticed, if that's yore idee. They've got watchers round the jail," the deputy went on. "I shan't try." "Then you'll let 'em hang him?" "Oh, no!" "What in hell do you mean to do, then?" Roberts told him, in part. The deputy shook his head vehemently. "Can't be done. First place, you can't get Wadley to do it. He won't lift a hand to stop this hangin'. Second place, he couldn't stop it if he wanted to. Folks in Tascosa ain't a bit gun-shy, an' right now they've got their necks bowed. An' this Dinsmore gang--they'll eat you alive if you get in their way." "Mebbeso. You can't always be sure. I've got one card up my sleeve I haven't mentioned to you." "If you want my opinion--" The Ranger cut him off short. "I don't, Snark. Not right now. I'm too busy to listen to it. I want to know just one thing of you. Will you have the horses right where I want 'em when I want 'em?" "You're the doc," acknowledged the deputy grudgingly. "They'll be there, but just the same I think it's a fool play. You can't get away with it." Jack asked a question. "Where am I most likely to find Wadley?" "At McGuffey's store. It's a block this-a-way and a block that-a-way." He indicated directions with his hand. Wadley was not among those who sat on the porch of the general store known as McGuffey's Emporium. He had just gone to his sister's house to meet his daughter Ramona, of whose arrival he had received notice by a boy. Roberts followed him. In answer to the Ranger's "Hello, the house!" the cattleman came out in his shirt-sleeves. Jack cut straight to business. "I've come to see you about that Mexican Alviro, Mr. Wadley. Is it true they're goin' to lynch him?" The hard eyes of the grizzled Texan looked full at Roberts. This young fellow was the one who had beaten his son and later had had the impudence to burn as a spill for a cigarette the hundred-dollar bill he had sent him. "Whyfor do you ask me about it?" he demanded harshly. "Because you've got to help me stop this thing." The cattleman laughed mirthlessly. "They can go as far as they like for me. Suits me fine. Hangin' is too good for him. That's all I've got to say." Already he had refused the pleadings of his daughter, and he had no intention of letting this young scalawag change his mind. "Are you sure this Mexican is guilty--sure he's the man who killed yore son, Mr. Wadley?" "He's as guilty as hell." "I don't think it. Hasn't it ever struck you as strange that yore son was killed an' yore messenger Ridley held up the same night, an' that the two things happened not many miles from each other?" "Of course it has. I'm no fool. What of it?" "I've always thought the same men did both."