He crept to the window and drew down the blind. A small hole showed where the bullet had gone through the window and left behind it a star of shattered glass. Ramona began to whimper. Her father's arm found and encircled her. "It's all right, honey. He can't git us now." "I'm goin' out by the back door. Mebbe I can put salt on this bird's tail," said Jack. "You stay right where you are, Mr. Wadley. They can't hit either of you in that corner." "Oh, don't! Please don't go!" wailed the girl. Her words were a fillip to the Ranger. They sent a glow through his blood. He knew that at that moment she was not thinking of the danger to herself. "Don't you worry. I'll swing round on him wide. Ten to one he's already hittin' the dust fast to make his get-away." He slipped out of the room and out of the house. So slowly did he move that it was more than an hour before he returned to them. "I guessed right," he told the cattleman. "The fellow hit it up at a gallop through the brush. He's ten miles from here now." "Was he after me or you?" "Probably me. The Rangers ain't popular with some citizens. Looks to me like Steve Gurley's work." "I wouldn't be a Ranger if I was you. I'd resign," said Ramona impulsively. "Would you?" Jack glanced humorously at Wadley. "I don't expect yore father would indorse them sentiments, Miss Ramona. He'd tell me to go through." Clint nodded. "'Mona said you wanted to see me about somethin'." The young man showed a little embarrassment. The cattleman guessed the reason. He turned to his daughter. "Private business, honey." Ramona kissed her father good-night and shook hands with Jack. When they were alone the Ranger mentioned the reason for his call. "It's goin' around that Pete Dinsmore claims to have somethin' on Rutherford. The story is that he says you'd better lay off him or he'll tell what he knows." The eyes of the cattleman winced. Otherwise he gave no sign of distress. "I've got to stand the gaff, Jack. He can't blackmail me, even if the hound cooks up some infernal story about Ford. I hate it most on 'Mona's account. It'll hurt the little girl like sixty." Jack was of that opinion too, but he knew that Wadley's decision not to throw his influence to shield the Dinsmores was the right one. "She thought a heap o' Ford, 'Mona did," the cattleman went on. "He was all she had except me. The boy was wild. Most young colts are. My fault. I made things too easy for him--gave him too much money to spend. But outside of bein' wild he was all right. I'd hate to have her hear anything against him." He sighed. "Well, I reckon what must be must." "Stories the Dinsmores tell won't count with honest folks. Pete is one bad _hombre_. Everybody will know why he talks--if he does. That's a big _if_ too. He knows we've got evidence to tie his gang up with the killin' of Ford. He doesn't know how much. Consequence is he'll not want to raise any question about the boy. We might come back at him too strong."